just let me stop caring

anonymous asked:

Are you really telling us off for having an opinion on Kendall?

Calling a girl a SLUT goes WAY BEYOND having an OPINION. Its extremely disrespectful and degrading. She’s HUMAN, like all of us. She might not care enough to browse through every comment on her instagram, but once in a while, i’m sure she sees the comments of immature and jealous fans who call her slut, whore, bitch, etc. I WILL NOT tolerate people going into my inbox badmouthing a woman who didn’t do anything but INVITE your fave to her 21st birthday party. 

Oh btw, just in case you didn’t know:

What’s acceptable: “I don’t like Kendall Jenner” “I don’t ship Kendall Jenner with Harry Styles”

What isn’t acceptable: “Kendall Jenner is a slut” “Kendall Jenner should kill herself” “Kendall Jenner is a fucking whore” 

Know the difference.

anonymous asked:

Anybody in adoption au telling momma May that they're not straight

“anybody” B) 

from the Let Us Love series 

~1500 words 

read on AO3 

Eleven-year-old Jemma paces back and forth in the living room, her breathing measured, her hands wringing. She thought about just telling May first, or telling Fitz, but she wants this out in the open. It’s easiest to just rip it off like a bandaid.

“Is it something bad?” Skye asks nervously, sat between May and Fitz on the couch. Antoine is sitting in the recliner, rocking it back and forth.

“No,” Jemma quickly says, then stops, winces, and keeps pacing. “I mean, I- I don’t think so.”

“Whatever it is,” May says, “we’ll deal with it as a family.”

“I don’t know if it’s something to be ‘dealt with’ per se.”


“It’s just- I’m just a little nervous, that’s all.”

“Spit it out, Jem,” Skye whines, sliding down into a slump. “Fairly OddParents is about to come on.”

Fitz smacks her lightly. “Sh-She can take her time.”

Jemma shoots him a grateful smile, and then stops pacing, facing them all. “Okay. Okay, well, see—” She lets out a small huff, gives a decisive nod, and then continues, “There’s this girl I like.”

She’s met with blank stares, and she shakes her head and starts again.

“I mean- Really like.” She motions with her hands. “Like like.”

“Oh,” May says.

Jemma continues before anyone can say any more, “And it hasn’t just been a one-time thing. It’s happened before, this isn’t just an isolated incident or anything. I put the evidence together and I came to the conclusion that I like girls.”

“So—” May starts.

“So you’re gay?” Antoine asks.

“No,” Jemma says. “I like boys, too. I’m- um—” She puffs herself up a bit, ready to take whatever might come. “I’m bi.”

“What’s that mean?” Fitz asks, his brows scrunching together.

Keep reading


Title: Missed Connection
Character: Matt Murdock
A/n: I tweaked the request just a little bit because I liked the flow of this better.
Prompt: 26 - “Why shouldn’t I be so reckless?! You’re reckless all the time! Why can’t I be like you?”

You don’t necessarily remember how the argument started, but you knew that it was bound to happen at some point. You had grown suspicious of Matt’s behavior ever since Foggy told you how Matt was always showing up late to work and how he would just seem to disappear into thin air during times of crisis.

You tried to find a reasonable explanation for it at first, Matt was a sweet person and you couldn’t imagine him doing anything that awful. But after dozens of missed calls and a few trips to his apartment where no one answered the door, you began to worry.

Everytime you tried confronting him at the firm, asking if he was okay or where he’d been, Matt would just flash you that charming smile and insist he was fine, just had some business to attend to.

You saw right through it, you had always been good at sensing when something didn’t feel right.

But still, you went along with it, knowing you weren’t going to figure out anything if you came off as suspicious.

You grew up with four other siblings, so sneaking around was a natural skill.

Needless to say, when you found a masked guy who sounded an awful lot like Matt beating up some other dude who was apparently trying to take advantage of a drunken girl on the street.

You were able to put two and two together.

It took one hell of an explination from Matt at his apartment for you to understand it all.

He told you that what he did was dangerous, and that you couldn’t tell anyone for their own safety.

And you complied.

At first, you tried to offer him help. You weren’t a talented fighter like Matt, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t help him strategize and help him be more smart with how he handled his affairs.

But, of course, you were met with a simple, but stern.

“Absolutely not, I don’t want you to get more involved in this then you already are. Just let me take care of it.”

That wasn’t going to stop you from trying.

Some time had passed and one too many close calls on Matt’s life, you decided that enough was enough. He was going to accept your help weither he wanted it or not.

It was by no means your proudest moment. But you managed to follow Matt the next time he went out and ended up in an abandoned hotel on the outskirts of the city.

Matt never told you any of the details of his affairs with the bad people, but you did know that more often then not it ended in at least two people being severely injured.

You kept your distance though, knowing that if Matt saw you he might actually kill you, then proceed to give your corpse a five hour lecture about how he specifically told you not to get involved

One thing lead to another and you saw Matt was getting his ass kicked so you ripped the fire extinguisher from the wall and then snuck up behind the attacker while he was kicking Matt, who was on the ground.

There was a loud thud and both the man and the extinguisher came crashing down onto the ugly, green carpet of the hotel lobby.

Matt tore off the peice of black fabric that covered his eyes and took a minute to catch his breath before he pushed himself off the ground, leaning against the wall as he collected himself.

“I thought…I told you…to let me handle this.” Matt said, hands coming to clutch at his side as he moved to stand in front of you.

“You can’t be here.” Matt grabbed at your wrist and started dragging you away from the hotel, his focus slightly distracted by the adrenaline he could tell was coursing through you.

You both ended up at his apartment and that’s when all hell began to break loose.

“I cannot believe you would do something so stupid? I told you I had everything under control! There was no need for you to put yourself in danger like that.”

“What are you talking about? I helped you! You weren’t doing too well on your own so I decided to step in!”

“You shouldn’t have been there in the first place!”

You could see his face clearly, nothing was obstructed by a mask or glasses, but you could tell he was properly upset with you.

You sighed deeply, hands coming to tug at the lower hem of your cardigan. “Nothing absolutely terrible happened!

“It doesn’t matter! You can’t just saunter into dangerous situations you don’t understand anything about! It’s reckless and you could have gotten yourself killed!”

“Why shouldn’t I be so reckless?!” You said, harshly jabbing your finger into his chest. “You’re reckless, all the time! Why can’t I be like you?”

“Because I am not as breakable as you are, ever since you found out about this it’s been my responsibility to make sure you’re safe.”

You shook your head, and you could tell that your vision was turning watery. “I never asked you to.”

Matt’s brows lifted slightly when he heard how soft your voice had become, his hand reached out till it found yours and he instantly pulled you in for a hug. “I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you got hurt because of me, I don’t even want to think of that outcome.”

Your arms slowly came to wrap around his neck as the familiar feeling of security and warmth started to form. “Oh right, so I’m just supposed to let you get beaten up while I stand by and twiddle my thumbs.”

Matt chuckled, and his cheek nuzzled into your hair as he took in the feeling of you. Your hair was soft, and you felt nice to hold. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t have to see that part of my life at all.”

You held him tighter, the whole situation suddenly feeling very real. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. Well, that part’s inevitable, but just don’t die or anything, if you can manage it. Then I’ll be satisfied.”

Matt pulled back just enough so he could look at you, your noses barely touching one another and he could hear the sound of your steady breathing and fast heart rate. “Whatever you want.”

His voice came out as a whisper, and that was when you realized how how close he was and how intimate the whole moment felt.

Matt leaned down further and captured your lips with his, both of his hands came up to hold your face for a loving moment before he pulled away.

Your eyes had fluttered shut, but when you felt him leave, you subconsciously moved foward to graze his lips against yours again.

Matt smiled, his thumbs lightly brushing your cheeks as he felt your heart continue to beat at a fast rhythm.

But then, your eyes flew open and you pushed yourself from him.

“What’s wrong, are you alright?” Matt asked, trying to step towards you, but you moved away again.

“What?” You said with a dismissive laugh as you tried to brush it off. “Me? I-I’m fine, I just uh,” You looked back at him, a lot of emotions came flying at you at full speed. “Nothing, I’ll take your advice, keep myself in line more, nothing to worry about.”

Matt heard you shuffle about the apartment, knowing that you probably tripped over something due to the lack of light.


“I’ll see you tomorrow, I really have to go now. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Matt tried to downplay the immense amount of hurt and rejection in his voice as he heard the door shut.

I find it so….. odd that I see people talking about discourse in fandoms because one: I’ve never seen any, and two: WHY ARE PEOPLE FIGHTING??? YOU’RE FANS OF THE SAME FUCKIN THING?????

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

I was in the mood to Kill a Man today so ofc I drew my fave, Lila Killed-Like-17-Men (Before Lunch) Bard

Yes, Goddamn It

Word count: 2230

Pairing: Sam X Reader

Summary: Sam is hurt by a monster and the reader takes care of him. (Not smut this time, my lovelies. Sorry!)


“Is he okay?” Dean asks, his gaze flickering up to his rearview mirror as he sped down the nearly empty road.

“I’m fine,” Sam mutters in response, but you shoot him a look, warning him not to speak.

“We’re keeping pressure on the wounds until we can get them stitched, but if you don’t get your ass in gear, things could turn south real quick,” you inform his brother, keeping one of a twin set of wounds held shut with your hands and staunching the blood flow with a torn piece of your shirt.

“It’s not… not that bad,” Sam disagrees. “She’s overreacting.”

“I’m about to overreact with a foot in your ass if you don’t shut up,” you snap, gnawing nervously on your lip as Dean continues to speed down county back roads in an effort to get back to the motel quicker.

“That’s not even physically possible,” Sam mutters, and you ache to just slap a hand over his mouth and keep him from talking, so that he can save his energy.

“We’re here,” Dean says as he makes a final turn into the motel parking lot, snapping into park before killing the engine.

He’s in that back seat with you and Sam within seconds, helping his brother out of the car amidst groans of pain from Sam.

“Careful,” you warn, managing your way out of the seat while maintaining a firm pressure over his chest where the flesh is ripped open. “Sam, can you walk?”

“Yeah, it’s just a few scratches; I’m okay,” he tries to lie, but you can see how much he’s actually struggling.

Dean unlocks the door and props it open while helping guide Sam through, and you help him make it the rest of the way to the bed as Dean closes the blinds and locks the door.

Carefully, you lay him down on his back, moving one hand from his chest to brush it over his forehead and check for a fever.

“You’re not warm,” you inform him as Dean walks in with the necessary tools to patch his brother up and copious amounts of alcohol. “You doing this or me, Dean?”

“I can do it,” he states, and you nod as he cuts away Sam’s shirt. You don’t have the time to check him out, not while he’s in such danger.

“Do his side first, so he can relax a little. I’ve got this one,” you tell Dean, checking the wound you were covering to see if it’s still bleeding.

“Ready, Sammy?” Dean asks, and Sam manages a groan of pain back. “Drink up.”

After helping Sam to take a large drink of whiskey, Dean sets to work patching his brother up, closing the large gash with quick but steady movements.

Sam grunts in pain occasionally, and his silence starts to worry you. His eyes are squeezed shut, his breathing short and hands clenched tightly.

“Sam, you okay?” you ask, keeping the wound closed with one hand while sliding the other along his cheek and into his hair.

His eyes flicker open, catching and holding yours for a moment.

“That feels good,” he states, tilting his head into your grip slightly.

“There, one side is done,” Dean says, offering his brother another large gulp of alcohol.

You move out of the way carefully, letting Dean take over holding the wound, and both of your hands move to Sam’s head.

His eyes close once again, and you slowly rub his temples with your thumbs, scratching the back of his head with your remaining fingers gingerly.

“God, [Y/N], that feels so good,” he repeats, his voice thick and lined with pain as Dean worked his healing magic.

“Shh, I know,” you tell him, watching Dean as he finished off his job.

“You need to get cleaned up and then rest,” Dean states as he begins to clear away his tools. “We can head back for the bunker in the morning, after we’ve all had some sleep.”

“Dean, get yourself cleaned up, I’ve got Sam,” you toss him the key to your room, the one right next to this one. “Go ahead, I barely got hit by anything, and you’re covered in blood still.”

“You sure you’ve got him?” he asks, looking to his brother.

“Yeah, I’ll get him washed up and in bed,” you return, giving him a nod.

He ventures out toward your room, taking the whiskey with him, and you look at Sam.

“You think you can manage to get up?” you ask him, tracing a fingertip over his nose.

You’ve always been one for little touches, a brush here, a nudge there, the occasional cuddle during a movie. It makes you feel better to know that you can physically feel them, that they are real and beside you.

“Yeah,” he finally answers, his voice thick. You help him to sit up, supporting his weight as he took a few seconds to steady himself. “[Y/N], I’m okay. I can shower.”

“You and Dean both play so tough all the time, but I know that you’re hurt. I’m not, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make things easier for you,” you tell him, letting him drape an arm over your shoulders as he took achingly slow steps to the bathroom.

He finally makes it, and you let him lean against the sink as you get the water ready.

“I can do this,” he gestures you out, and you give him a knowing look.

“You can?” There’s no sense of humor in your voice. “Show me.”

He groans lowly as he unbuttons his pants and pulls the zipper down, the movement making his chest burn with pressure. He looks up at you, as though trying to convince you that the simple act was enough proof that he was okay.

“All of it, Sam,” you tell him, and he falters for a moment.

“[Y/N], I can’t just do this with you watching me,” he finally admits. You sigh.

“Sam, this really isn’t the best time to get gooey and admit our feelings for each other,” you explain, slinking an arm around his hips to urge his pants down. “You need to get showered and then relax, we can talk after you lay down.”

His hazel eyes hold yours for a few long seconds, and then he nods. You exhale in relief and get him undressed, trying not to give too much attention to what’s below the belt.

“Come on,” you tell him, making him walk toward the shower and helping him in. “Can you stand by yourself for thirty seconds?”

He agrees in a tight voice, and you quickly strip down to just a bra and underwear, since you were dirty and could use this shower as well.

You slip into the shower in front of him, and his gaze travels down your body unabashedly.

“Hey, you okay?” you ask him, reaching up to his shoulder when he sways. “Don’t you fucking fall on me, I can’t catch you.”

“I’m okay, [Y/N],” he repeats, leaning his head back against the tiled shower wall. “Just give me a few seconds.”

You groan as you use some of the scented body wash left for your shower courtesy of the motel, carefully moving over his chest and abdomen to clean the wounds without tearing any stitches.

“Still with me?” you ask him, noticing that his eyes are closed. “Sam? Sam, I need you to talk to me.”

“I’m here,” he croaks as your hands move to his back to wash him. “[Y/N], does this seriously not affect you at all?”

“Sam, you’re asking the wrong questions at the wrong time,” you tell him, kneeling down to smooth some soap over his gorgeously long legs. “Like I said, let me get you cleaned up, and once you’re laying down we can get mushy and admit our feelings.”

“But there are feelings?” he asks, grunting when you catch a deep bruise on his hip.

“Sam, yes, goddamn it,” you state, shaking your head as you look up at him. “Now just shut up and stop wasting your energy. Let me take care of you.”

“You’re a bossy nurse,” he murmurs and you stand up, angling him under the spray of water so that his hair gets wet.

“I’m fucking scared, Sam!” you snap, and his eyes widen slightly at the tone of your voice. “There, I said it. I’m fucking terrified right now because I’m worried you’re gonna fall out on me and hurt yourself more. I’ve never seen you like this because of a hunt, Sam, and I know you’re trying to play it off as less than it really is but you’re seriously wounded!”

“[Y/N],” he breathes, watching as you shifted behind him so that you can shampoo his hair without having to look him in the eyes.

The rest of the shower is spent in silence, and once you finally get him clean, you turn off the water and dry his chest off gently before he wraps the towel around his waist.

“Come on, let’s get you in bed,” you tell him softly, guiding his form toward the motel bed carefully. You help him to lower onto it and lay down, tucking the covers around him gingerly. “I’m gonna get dressed and then we can talk, okay?”

He nods and you sigh softly, brushing his hair out of his eyes before placing a soft kiss on the bridge of his nose.

It takes a few minutes to get dressed and brush out your hair, then brush your teeth, but eventually you return to Sam, who lays patiently waiting.

“Okay,” you sigh as you sit down beside him, and he shuffles until his head lays in your lap. You smile slightly and brush your fingers through his hair. “So, I’ll start. You need to rest for at least a few minutes.”

He nods once, his hand moving to settle on your shin.

“There’s always been something there, Sam,” you tell him as you continue to smooth your fingers through his hair. “Always. But I didn’t want to make things weird, and I’m already a pretty touchy person as it is. You never said to stop, but you never really gave an indication to continue, either. Whatever, that’s the past.”

He listens quietly, thumb sliding back and forth across your flesh.

“Anyways, I was content with how we were. I was okay with just being your friend, knowing that there wasn’t going to be anything past that,” you try to explain. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t love you. God, I still love you. But I was just happy to be around you. I’ve thought about this all a lot, Sam. I’ve had years to get used to this, so when you sit here and ask me if I feel things, like… Like you think that I don’t feel them… I do. I just… I’ve gotten used to them, and I’ve gotten really good at hiding them, I think. So yes, I feel things for you, and yes I love you. I don’t know what happened to change your mind all of a sudden and want to know, but the answer is yes, Sam.”

You exhale quietly, feeling a weight lift from your chest with your admission.

“I almost lost you,” he whispers, and you give a choked laugh.

“You’re the one who was practically dying in my arms and you say that you almost lost me?” you ask.

“I let you talk, now let me,” he states, looking up at you. Your cheeks flush the slightest pink, and he swallows. “I was always too scared to say anything. Like you said, you’re a touchy person, and I couldn’t figure out where the line was. I couldn’t tell if it was friendly or flirty most of the time.”

A small smile creeps to your face.

“I didn’t want to be mistaken or assume the wrong thing,” he squeezes your shin lightly, since it was the only part of you he was touching. “But when that werewolf hit me, I realized that could be it. I realized that I could’ve died without ever knowing for sure. I realized that if I died, I would have spent all of eternity regretting never telling you that I loved you.”

A small smile crawls to your lips again, and your fingers move to trace his strong jaw.

“So, here it is,” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “[Y/N], I love you.”

“I love you too, Sam,” you whisper, sliding your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Now get some rest. We can work this out as we go, starting tomorrow.”

“Can I kiss you just once tonight?” he asks, and you grin tiredly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. His lips are soft and his taste sweet, his eyes flickering closed as you pull away.

“There, now get some rest, please,” you tell him. “I’ll be right here beside you.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” he requests, and you brush a hand through his hair.

“I won’t,” you tell him, and his body relaxes with that piece of information.

“I love you, [Y/N],” he whispers, and a smile greets your lips as you continue to smooth down his hair.

“I love you too, Sam.”

jojo would get a bunch of piercings just to impress marissa

carryonmy-destielson  asked:

Fluffly destiel headcanon: Human!Cas getting sore feet after running a lot in hunts so one night after Cas is complaining about his feel hurting, Dean takes off his boots and gives him a foot massage which eventually turns into a full body massage. Nothing sexual just plain and simple back rubs and affectionate touches. This becomes their routine and Dean would even buy those little bottle of sweet smelling oil for Cas :)

Dean: Just relax and let me take care of you for once, ok? And stop wiggling your toes. 

Cas: *laughs* that tickles, Dean!

Dean: *grins*

Cas: Is that watermelon scent?

Dean: … 

Dean: No.

Cas, smiling: Thanks, Dean. You’re very sweet. 

Dean: *blushes, shrugging, but looks secretly pleased* Yeah, well, now that you’re a human, you complain a lot. I was just trying to shut you up.

Cas, pulling Dean in for a kiss with a devious look: There’s more than one way to do that.

Originally posted by moan-s

hey !  remember  not  to  abide  ‘ friends ’  policing  who  you  interact  with .  that’s  not  chill  and  in  every  real  ,  healthy  friendship  ,  there  is  open  discussion .  obviously  certain  circumstances  might  adjust  these  ,  but  a  big  red  flag  of  a  toxic  friendship  is  being  told  to  stop  talking  to  other  friends  of  yours .  it’s  not  okay .

creideamhgradochas  asked:

well, you already know I vote for a follow up to #30 (almost sex in a morgue drawer) But also, #37. “Because I love you god damn it!” with my man Bucky, please?

looook can i top almost-sex in a morgue drawer? idk…. but i’ll give it a shot ;) and i kindaaa changed the prompt a little bit for this but not too much! i hope you enjoy :)

#37: “Because I love you god damn it!”

You come back from your mission feeling completely wrecked. All you want is to collapse in your bed and not have to be conscious for at least day. You’ve got bruises in places you shouldn’t have  bruises, it hurts to breathe, and you’re pretty sure you’ve done something dodgy to your wrist. It’s not that big of a deal - the rest of the team have had plenty worse - but you ache and you just want your bed.

But first, water. Then you can pass out for as long as you like.

Only when you enter the compound’s kitchen, someone is waiting for you. Bucky sits at the counter with his hood up, glare already on, and silently slides the glass of water he’s already poured for you across the benchtop. You don’t even bother hiding your groan as you stop the water glass from sliding off the end of the counter. You are so not in the mood for Bucky’s shit.

“Why aren’t you in medical?” Bucky asks, his voice gravelly like he’d just woken up. FRIDAY probably woke him up to tell him you’d arrived back, because apparently he can’t leave well enough alone.

“I’m not injured,” you say, and take a long sip of water. It feels like cool heaven and instantly perks you back up - which unfortunately means you’re more aware of Bucky’s unimpressed glare, the lean line of his body as he gets up off the stool to approach you, the way he smells a bit like sleep and cigarettes when he comes to a stop right in front of you.

Bucky reaches for you, probably to check if you’re lying or not, and you flinch away. His hand comes way too close to your sore ribs, but the movement to get away from him jerks your body anyway and you fail to hide your wince. Bucky frowns, stepping closer to you even as you move further away, and reaches for you again.

“You’re lying,” he grumbles, glaring up at you through his eyelashes. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” you snap, crossing your arms over your torso to ward him off as you back away. Your back hits the fridge, jolting you further but you manage to bite your lip and stave off your reaction to the pain that flares through your body. Unfortunately, Bucky now has you cornered and he’s a stubborn bastard, so he won’t leave you alone.

Bucky raises one eyebrow at you and grabs your wrists, gently pulling your arms away from your body. His grip is still a bit too tight on your potentially sprained wrist, so you suck in a deep breath to stop yourself from groaning in pain. Bucky, of course, notices. He drops your uninjured wrist to inspect the sprained one, massaging his thumbs gently into the ligament to find where the pain is. You try and bite your lip to stop yourself, but when he hits the sprained part you gasp anyway.

You take your wrist out of Bucky’s grip and cradle it by your stomach, avoiding his eyes. Bucky doesn’t say anything, but you can feel the concern and frustration radiating off him in waves. You’re so tired, and you hurt all over, but the last thing you want is for Bucky to know and the overbearing weight of his concern for you makes tears sting at the back of your eyes. You just want to go to bed and be fine like everyone else but Bucky won’t let you, and it’s so frustrating all you want to do is scream.

Bucky goes for your ribs next, softly sliding his hands on either side to feel for tender spots. The whole area is tender and you flinch away from him again, but he chases you back against the fridge so you’re crowded into it. All you can see is him. It’s overwhelming, and you try to remove his hands with your one good one but it doesn’t work. He rubs his thumbs into your skin and presses his fingers in until you cry out, thunking your head back against the fridge door as the pain gets too much.

“It hurts that much?” he murmurs softly, and you almost wish he was still angry with you because it’s easier to deal with than pity. Or sympathy, or concern, or whatever the fuck it is that always has Bucky chasing after you and sticking his hands in things that don’t concern him.

Tears well in your eyes without your permission as you glare at him, which probably lessens the impact. “It’s fine, it’s just a couple of bruises. I’m just fucking tired, ok? Let me go to bed.”

“It’s not,” Bucky says, growing frustrated again. Part of you is pleased, but part of you just wants to sob like a child. “Just admit you aren’t fine for once in your damn life. Are you really so proud that you can’t accept you get hurt?”

“I’m not proud,” you sneer, “I’m just not fucking injured, alright? I’m sore, that’s it - I’m fine.

“Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice interrupts, oddly quiet like she’s nervous of interrupting - if AI’s can get nervous. “(Y/N) has a fractured rib on her right side. Her wrist is sprained, and there is significant bruising to the rest of her ribcage.”

“Fucking hell,” Bucky breathes, like it’s been punched out of him. You have to blink up at the ceiling to stop the tears that threaten to fall, especially when Bucky slides his hands up your arms to grip your shoulders and squeeze.

“It’s fine,” you whisper - any louder and your voice might crack. “I’m fine, Bucky, please just stop.”

“You aren’t fucking fine,” Bucky growls. You know he isn’t really angry at you, but you still recoil from the force of it.

“Please,” you beg, “It’s not that bad, everyone else goes through a lot worse and comes out fine-“

“That’s a load of fucking bullshit and you know it,” Bucky snaps, still gripping you tightly so you can’t slip away. “Everyone else goes to medical when they’re hurt and gets fixed up! You hide serious injuries like you can just sleep them off but you can’t, that’s how you fucking die, (Y/N)!”

“If I went to medical every time I got hurt I’d never leave the damn place!” you hiss. “Don’t you get it? I’m not like you or Steve with the serum that heals everything in a day, or Tony in his suit, or Bruce when he’s hulked out. I’m not a god, I’m not Natasha or Clint who can’t be beat at what they do - I’m just human, I get beaten, I get hurt. It makes me a fucking liability, and I’m sick of letting people down.”

“You aren’t letting anyone down by admitting when you’re hurt. It’s worse when you don’t, because then we can’t take care of you and you hurt yourself more,” Bucky says, softer now, like you might break. You hate it, you hate the way he rubs his thumbs into your the hollow of your collarbones and ducks his head to look into your eyes so you can see just how much he means it. You hate it because you really, really don’t, and you feel pathetic for it. Why does letting him take care of you feel like the end of the world?

“Why do you care anyway?” you say harshly, “You can’t do anything about it, and me being hurt doesn’t affect your life any way-“

“You really think that?” Bucky snaps, his grip tightening on you slightly. “You’ve got to be fucking dumb to think it doesn’t affect me.”

“Oh yeah?” you seethe, leaning into his face as anger courses through your body. “If I’m so dumb, then fucking explain it to me, asshole! Why do you care? Give me one good-“

“Because I love you!” Bucky cries, stepping away and throwing his hands in the air. They fall to his side with a thump, so much louder now that you’ve fallen silent in absolute shock. Softer, with a little, self-depreciating laugh, Bucky says, “God damn it, I fucking love you and it kills me when you do this. It makes me crazy, I can’t- I just want you to be ok and you won’t let yourself. Please, just- let me take care of you. Or someone, anyone, just stop doing this to yourself. If not for you, then for me.”

You can’t breathe, and not just because of the fractured rib. Bucky looks broken apart, standing there in his soft hoodie looking at you like you’re reaching into his chest and ripping his heart out with your bare hands. You want to tuck his hair behind his ear and hug him until he stops cracking apart, and you don’t know why you want those things so badly but you do. And he looks like he wants to do the same to you - the scariest feeling in the world is realising that, actually, you want that too.

“Say it again,” you say, and this time a few tears do fall before you can hold them back.

Bucky screws his face up in confusion and says, “What, you really want me to repeat all-“

“No, dumbass,” you say, rolling your eyes with a watery laugh. Now you can’t stop smiling as you ask, “Just the first bit - say it again.”

Bucky blinks, as if he can’t quite understand what you’re asking of him. But then he grins, big and lopsided and beautiful, and you never want to be responsible for taking that smile away from him again.

“I love you,” he says, stepping closer to you until your chests are bumping together every time you breathe. He cradles your cheek in his flesh hand and rubs his thumb along your jaw. He’s looking at you in that way that used to infuriate you, like you’re breakable - but now you get it, you get him. You’re just too precious for him to let shatter, no matter what it took.

He says again, leaning in to brush his nose against yours and breathe you in, “I love you.”

You sigh, closing your eyes at the feeling of him so close - his hand on your face, his breath on your lips, his metal hand sliding down to grip your hip and pull you close to him. You grin, and your lips catch against his. Just that little brush of contact sends sparks all the way down your spine, so much so you forget just how tired and sore you were a minute ago. This is all that matters now.

“I love you too, idiot,” you say, and not at all surprised to find that you mean it.

Bucky presses his lips to yours and it’s warmth and a calm, soothing light that numbs you all the way down to your toes. You tingle like when sunshine hits cold skin and it sparks you up for a second before settling into that comforting, all-over glow. All because he’s touching you, holding you, smiling against your mouth as you kiss and kiss until you can’t feel your lips, they’re so swollen.

“Let me put ice on your ribs and feed you grilled cheese,” Bucky mumbles against your mouth, between bruising, quick kisses.

You feel him grin before he’s even finished speaking, and you’re laughing before you remember how fucking much your ribs hurt and have to stop right away. But you can’t stop smiling, and it doesn’t feel like weakness when Bucky leads you back to his bed and makes you lie down and shut up while he fusses over you. It feels like love.

Comfort - Tommy Shelby

Tommy comforting you after you’ve had a bad day. For my able anon. 

Comfort - Tommy Shelby | part of the Able series

Tommy got in later than usual, going straight into the kitchen to make himself some tea. He assumed that you had already gone to bed until he heard a noise coming from the stairs. Setting the kettle on to boil he walked around the corner into the hallway and caught sight of you, still in your clothes from the day, sitting on the bottom of the stairs. When you heard footsteps in the hallway you perked up, brushing at your cheeks to rid them of tears but it was too late. Tommy had already seen.  

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Hello Hello

Jughead x Reader
A really shit, short imagine slightly based on Hello Hello by Fickle Friends (Please check out the song, and the band guys. I love them so much!)
Jughead and the reader are in a relationship but she worries about how much time he is spending on his novel. 

Originally posted by dailycwriverdale

Hello Hello 

Your a problem but your mine. I think you hide it well despite the dark around your eyes. 

“Jug?” you ask, rising your head off the arm of the couch where you had been resting minutes ago. He was sat on the other side of the couch to you, squished to the other arm of the couch since you had curled yourself up on the rest. The only light in the room coming from his laptop screen which was balanced carefully on his lap as his long, delicate fingers typed away frantically. The light only showed a faint outline of his face which was pouting with concentration as he worked his magic. No reply left his lips, keeping them pursed and tight.

“Jug” you repeat, sitting up right and leaning over to touch his arm. Despite the touch being gentle and soft, he still jumps with surprise. “Jug” you laugh, his face looking as surprised.
“What are you doing awake?” he asks, his eyes scrunched up as they adjust to the darkness of the rest of the room.
“I could ask you the same” you laugh, looking at the bottom corner of his screen which displayed the time. 2am.
“I feel like I’m really getting somewhere with my novel.”
“I feel like you need to get some sleep” making a subtle remark to the dark circles which had formed around his eyes through the countless nights of staying up late working on his novel. You supported him so much with his work, always giving him space to concentrate. Sometimes you felt kind of pushed out of the picture, left out in the background of his life. But you adored his passion for his work, so often left him to do his own thing, appreciating the special moments you had together.

“I’m fine” he lies, turning his face back to the screen.
“Jug come on” you push, grabbing the material of his sleeve and tugging on it gently. You could see a little smile start to appear on his lips as you pouted your own lips like a child. He finally gives in and closes down his laptop as you drag the both of you upstairs to bed.

Sitting on my suitcase in the doorway out of spite.

“You don’t seem to get it” you sigh, leaning against the door-frame to Archie’s room. Luckily Archie and his dad weren’t home to listen to the two of you arguing cause they would have tried to calm you down, which would have made things ten times worse. Jughead was sat on the bed, laptop to the side of him as he kept glancing between the screen and you.
“Your not even listening now, are you?” You scoff, rolling your eyes. You loved this guy to pieces yet he could barely make the time to talk to you. This relationship felt completely one sided, it wasn’t fair on you.
“This is what I need to be doing Y/N. I’m sorry” He sighs, pulling off his beanie, a gesture he only did when he was stressed as being seen without it was like a criminal offence. He rubbed a band through his jet black hair, pieces of it springing back over his forehead, over his eyes. The bags were still dark and prominent.
“I’m worried about you” you finally admit. “Forgetting about us for a second, because there doesn’t seem to be an us right now. You barely sleep. Barely eat.”
“I’m… I’m focused”
“There is a difference between focused and obsessed!” You emphasis, maybe shouting a bit louder then you intended.
“Maybe I am obsessed Y/N!” he snaps, throwing his hand out in the air. You jump at his shout, surprised at the sudden aggression. “Maybe I am. But this is all I have right now!”

Your breath feels knocked out of your lungs. Nothing. You were nothing to him, and finally he admits it. You slowly nod your head to him, taking in everything he has said. Tears from in your eyes as you grab your sweater and walk away from the room.
“You had me” you sigh, before leaving the house, and Jughead behind.
Your a winner even though you think you’re not.

You sat in a booth at Pop’s with Betty sat opposite you. You had rang her as soon as you left Archie’s, in tears, in need of a milkshake. She sat comforting you as you told her the truth about how pushed out you felt, how much you adored him and his passions but you hated watching his destroy himself and ignoring you in the process.
“Y/N” a rough, breaking voice says next to you. You look up to see Jughead stood near the booth, his cheeks red and raw, his eyes blurred. You try to force a smile but you know it looks pained. Betty gets up from the other side of the booth to give the two of you some privacy. Instead of sitting opposite you, he decides to sit close to you on your side of the booth.

“Y/N I’m so sorry” he sighs, looking deep into your eyes.
“I just care about you”
“I know.”
“Then let me. Stop pushing me away” you sigh, turning to your milkshake and taking a sip, breaking the intense gaze he had been giving you. You couldn’t look at him without feeling sorry for him, looking at how tired he was. “I know how shit things have been recently. With the drive in being destroyed, and your dad… but I’m just trying to be there for you”

“I know. I know I’ve been so focused on my novel and not focused enough on you. You are so important to me Y/N” he says seriously, gently taking your hands and stroking your skin with the rough pad of his thumb.
“I know it feels like your not winning at life right now, I get that. Your always there for me when I need you. I just wish you would let me do the same”
“I’m always a winner, because I have you” he says, one hand cupping the back of my head, gently stroking parts of my hair. I give him a small smile as he leans in closer and presses his lips gently on mine. It only lasts a second but I know he means it.
“Just listen to me when I tell you to go to sleep” I joke, a smile appearing on his lips as he laughs.

Pls send in requests 

You're Sick Part 1

Pietro x Reader

Summary: You’re sick and you refuse to let Pietro near you because you know he will want to help with cuddles and soup but he will get sick and the Avengers can’t lose another team member.

“Y/N, open this door. Now.” Pietro demanded from the other side of the door. You had shut him out and locked the door using your telekinesis. He had tried opening it several times using plenty of his force. You still haven’t told him that you are sick and he’s starting to get worried about why you locked yourself in the shared bedroom. You refused to open the door an told JARVIS to not let anyone in without your approval.

“I can’t Pietro.” You said and you hid your cough into your pillow.

“Why? You’re making me anxious and I want to be with you. Why are you shutting me out? What’s wrong?” He asked, knocking several times on the door. You heard some footsteps outside of the door and felt a sharp pain in your head, however; it had gone as quickly as it came.

“She doesn’t want to get you sick Pietro.” You heard Wanda outside of your door. You tensed thinking that Wanda will use her powers against yours and override JARVIS and let Pietro in.

“That’s more of a reason for me to go in! I have to take care of her! Y/N please let me in. Using your powers to not let me in is unhealthy. Please stop forcing me out. Just let me in I can take care of you like you take care of me. Please.” Pietro tried negotiating but you could hear the concern in his voice.

“I can take care of myself. It’s nothing big. Just some coughs and sneezes here and there.” You muttered out before you coughed into your pillow.

“Y/N Y/L/N open this door right now or I will bring the Hulk himself to tear it down for me.” Pietro threatened but you knew that Banner was never going to do that partly because he wouldn’t want to go green and accidentally hurt anyone and partly because he respects your decision with keeping Pietro out. This isn’t the first time he would ask Banner to open the door.

“Leave her be brother. She needs her rest and she won’t get it if you keep banging on the door. Just have her rest. That will surely help her get better.” You heard Wanda tell your boyfriend through the door causing her voice to sound quieter. You heard Pietro sigh followed with footsteps walking down the hallway.

You rolled over in your bed and reached for one of Pietro’s pillows. You loved his scent. It was some kind of minty smell and it just comforted you every time you inhaled it.

“Miss Y/L/N, Miss Maximoff would like to come into the room. It appears that she has brought some soup.” You heard JARVIS’ voice speak to you.

“You can let her in.” You mumbled into Pietro’s pillow. The door opened and it revealed Wanda with a tray of soup and medicine. She was always like an older sister to you, along with Nat but at the same time they were your best friends. You smiled at her until you saw a silver trail zoom by past her. We both looked at each other and rolled our eyes.

“Pietro. Go away.” You said as you started to envelope yourself in the blankets so it will become impossible for Pietro to come an cuddle you. Pietro appeared by the bathroom and looked at you with a frown.

“Why do you let my sister take care of you and not me?” Pietro asked with a frown. You gave him an apologetic smile and brought up the sheets up to my face in attempt to hide a cough. In an instant you saw the tray of food and medicine being taken away from Wanda and the spot next to you on the bed slightly sinking.

“Let me give you your medicine and your soup.” You heard Pietro beg next to you. Your eyes flickered to him and you saw him begging with big sad eyes and you sighed.

“He does have a fast and strong immune system Y/N.” Wanda commented from the doorway. You looked at her and she smiled at the both of you.

“Let him take care of you. It won’t get him sick. Besides look at how much he wants to help you.” Wanda said before Vision came and took a peak through the door.

“I hope that you will get rid of this illness soon enough, Y/N. It haunts all of us to see you suffer like this.” He comments before looking at Wanda. They both stare at each other for some time until I close the door with my telekinesis.

“If Vision doesn’t make a move soon, my sister will go crazy.” Pietro commented, looking at you. You sat up and rested your back against the headboard.  Pietro turned on the television and put on your favorite Disney movie, Peter Pan. He came back to the bed and gave you the medicine. You swallowed the medicine down with some water that he gave you. Pietro moved you forward slightly so he could put his legs on either side of you and have you rest your back on his chest. He was about to feed you the soup until you pulled the covers up and sneezed.

“Bless you, moja ljubezen.” Pietro said as he kissed the top of your head. You grabbed the soup from his hands and started to eat it slowly while you and Pietro  watched Peter Pan. He would occasionally kiss your head and ask you how you are at least once every five minutes (to which you would respond to “I’m fine” or “good”) or kiss your neck and tell you that he loves you (to which you would smile and cuddle further into his warm body). The movie was almost over and you had been done with your soup, and turned sideways on Pietro because you fell asleep. The last thing you remember before actually dozing off is Pietro kissing your temple and pulling the covers fully onto you.

You woke up with a pounding headache, and Pietro gone. You got up and slipped on some slippers before wrapping blankets around your body. You got up with a loud groan and started walking towards the door, dragging your feet along the wood floors.

“Miss Y/L/N, I believe it is in your best interest to sit down and rest. Sir Maximoff will be extremely unpleased if he is to find you wandering around the tower.” You heard JARVIS speak to you.

“I’m fine.” You mumbled back. You were making your way towards the kitchen until Nat spotted you.

“Uhm, what do you think you’re doing? Go back to bed.” She ordered you from the couch. Clint turned around, looking away from the television.

“If Maximoff sees you he will be pissed. Go back to bed, it’s for your own good.” He said.

“I’m just getting some food and water and medicine.” You said as you walked on. You heard them getting up from the couch. Using your telekinesis, you started moving couches and all sorts of things to prevent them from getting to you. You eventually made it to the kitchen and shut the door behind you, resting your back on it for a little while with your eyes closed. You coughed a couple of times and almost screamed when Pietro appeared in front of you.

“What the hell are you doing out of bed?” He said looking at you in an angry manner.

“I was going to get some medicine and food.” You said as you try to walk past him, but he blocked you. Not having the energy to argue with your stubborn boyfriend, you just leant into him, letting him wrap you into his arms. He kissed your head and mumbled into your hair,

“That’s what I’m here for.” He said before picking you up and taking you back to your room with his speed. Within nanoseconds you were back in your room. Pietro laid you back in your bed and kissed you on your lips really quickly.

“Pietro no!” You said as you looked away and pushed him gently away. He chuckled.

“Sorry I couldn’t help myself.” He said before leaving the room. In a few seconds he came back with food and your medicine.

“You don’t have to do any of this. I could just use my powers.” You said to him as you leant against the headboard, sitting up.

“I want you to get better. And knowing you, you would probably eat your food and not take the liquid medicine that you’re supposed to take.” Pietro said with a small smirk, setting the tray of food down on the nightstand.

“So you’re basically my part-time nurse and full-time boyfriend?” You asked cocking one eyebrow up.

“Yup. Best job in the world for the best guy in the world.” He said with a cocky smile. You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t recall ever calling Steve my boyfriend.” You teased him. He growled in your direction.

“When you get all better you’re going to pay for that. Big time.” Pietro said before getting into bed with you, handing you pancakes that he made along with your gross medicine.

“Can’t wait.” You said, winking at him.


AN:  Requests are open amores xox.

Why I Struggle with Writing Sometimes

The worst part is I know people are reading. You can’t even take the time to say, hey thanks for the 15 minutes of free entertainment? Call me selfish, egotistical, whatever…I dont care. That was three months of my life. I agonized over it and for what? Nothing. Damn it, if you get to the end of the page leave some love. Because creating is hard, and most people do it for free in what little spare time they have. So show some support.