legs out from under

Secure

A/N:  Sometimes when you’re having debilitating writer’s block, what you need is someone like @melissas173 whispering in your ear, sending you pictures, asking questions, and cheering you on with your feeble attempts to move past the block.  I think Secure is proof that she has a successful formula.  Thank you, Mel!!!!

As always, shoutout to my betas @little-black-dress-24, @niallandharrymakemestrong, and @emulateharry for reading, discussing and giving feedback.  No woman is an island.  Not with friends like this.

“Uhm, Jeffrey? May I, uhm, speak to you, uhm, in private?” my potential new client pulls at his lip while staring meaningfully at his manager.

I don’t flinch at the question. It’s to be expected. Still I tune my ear to their conversation when the office door doesn’t close all of the way.

“Harry,” the manager starts out reasonably, “We talked about new security since Mike is out on paternity leave.”

“Yes, but, uhm….how do I say this?” the celebrity is hesitant, obviously unwilling to voice the opinion I anticipate.

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leonard-snark  asked:

‘I came to stop this street fight because that really big punch you just recieved made me scream at a cashier. Also are you injured?’ AU

@leonard-snark || random AU || accepting!

Sara could taste blood in her mouth, coppery confirmation of imminent defeat– his, of course, not hers. She recoiled, palm finding the side of the building as she peered through swelling eyelid at the brute across from her. “You’re going to really regret that, buddy…” she growled before spitting out a mixture of blood and saliva.

He jeered at her, but she was already moving. Her palm found the bridge of his nose with a sickening crunch. Legs swiped his own out from under him, and he fell hard. Booted foot pressing threateningly to his windpipe. “So have we learned our lesson about objectifying and/or touching women without their consent?” Sara questioned with a winning smile before she even realized she was being watched by someone else.

Giving a quick kick of dismissal to the thug, she turned her attention to the viridian gaze which held the look of someone waiting for an answer. “Sorry, did you say something?”

Tips On How to Write Characters with Wings (For both fanfic writers and original content writers)

So I’ve been reading a lot of fics lately where people are either

A) Putting wings onto canon characters

B) Making OCs with wings

So I decided that, with the influx of people who are writing winged characters (and therefore the influx of errors that come with writing winged characters), I’d make a little thing to help you slap a pair of wings onto anyone!

This is also a bit personal, too, because the MC in my upcoming novel has wings!

1. Know that there are a lot of types of wings to choose from

Part of being a writer is the desire to take something (whether it be a pre-existing work or an idea in your head) and make it into your own. So, instead of just going with the classic bird wings, why not spice it up a bit? If your character is an angel, you certainly don’t have to stick to the classic depictions of angel wings. Why not give them butterfly wings or dragonfly wings?

Here’s a small list of different types of wings to choose from:

  • Bat wings
  • Beetle wings
  • Bird wings
  • Butterfly/Moth wings
  • Dragonfly wings

Note that these wings are for animals who can fly. There are also animals who can “fly” that actually glide, such as sugar gliders and flying squirrels.

Yeah, so the options are pretty limited, but feel free to make up your own kinds of wings that aren’t necessarily based on a pre-existing creature’s wings!

2. Be familiar with the anatomy of your character’s wings and their limits

If your wings are completely unique, draw them out. A diagram or picture is key when it comes to things like description. I’m not gonna tell you what everything does and give you Animal Wing Anatomy 101, that’s for you to research. Know that there are different types of wings and that they have different uses, strengths, and weaknesses.

3. Never use the full extent of your research! 

Surprise, surprise!

“But wait, Maddy!” you cry, writing utensil in hand and poised to stab me. “I thought we were supposed to were supposed to show our research!”

Well, you are. Technically that’s not wrong. But, readers don’t want to know ALL of it. Over-described wings are sometimes worse than under-described wings; what sucks more than not knowing what a character’s wings look like is having to look up wing anatomy in the middle of the chapter!

Only use the most basic of vocabulary when it comes to describing the parts of the wing. Most of the time, you just have to say “bat wing” or “feathery wing” and the readers get the basic idea. (Like seriously, do you think the readers know what a dactylopatagium brevis is????? It’s a part of skin on a bat’s wing btw)

4. Don’t bring your character’s wings up only when they’re needed!!!!

Unless your character’s wings can fade away when they’re not needed, wings are a 100% real, 24/7 thing! It’s bothersome when writers mention the wings in one chapter and then only bring them up when there’s a daring escape that needs to be performed! Most of the time, I forget that the characters even have wings at all!

There is also the fact that wings aren’t all pros and no cons. If they’re functional, they’re probably big, and if they’re muscular, they’re probably bulky. If your character is clumsy, they’ll probably knock things over constantly, and if they’re not clumsy, they’ll still knock things over constantly.

Your wings are two (or four, or five, or six quintillion) extra appendages; they’re a part of your character! You don’t have to spend every second reminding the readers that they’re there, but don’t go long stretches of time without even mentioning them.

5. Your character’s wings can be a good way to indicate their mood or to provide for that little bit of description that you think you make be lacking

Why wouldn’t you want to describe the wings? I mean, you don’t want to describe every minute detail over and over again, but it’ll boost your word count a lot more than you think. They can also be used to convey your character’s feelings without explicitly telling the reader! It’s like a new set of facial expressions!

See? You can tell he’s wary and ready to fight from the movement of his wings! Also he’s crouching next to a dead body but that’s not relevant right now

Here’s a list of wing language (?) that you can incorporate into your story that will not only increase your word count, but will also add to the sustenance of your story!

Nervous

  • Twitch
  • Flutter
  • Ripple
  • Fold tightly
  • Fidget
  • Flap

Angry

  • Flare
  • Bristle
  • Fluff up
  • Ripple
  • Beat
  • Raise up
  • Snap open

Happy

  • Flutter
  • Curl up
  • Ripple
  • Wave
  • Flap
During Battle
  • Bludgeon
  • Smack
  • Bat
  • Clout
  • Whack
  • Kick someone’s legs out from under them
  • Snap someones neck (only for muscular wings like bat and bird wings)
Problems that may come with having wings
  • Poke out from under blankets and let all of the cold air in
  • Stepped on
  • Get pins and needles from being folded for too long
  • Squashed on chairs/ in beds/ in crowded hallways
  • Vulnerable in battle
  • Molting (for bird wings)

Hope this helped!!!

Going Somewhere?

5e, party is a halfling monk, human paladin, and a dragonborn fighter. We have been pursuing the agents of a nefarious secret society in Waterdeep, and have just encountered one unexpectedly while out shopping.

DM: You see Ludvig [the guy we’re after] handing a coin purse to a back alley vendor. He’s looking around to make sure he’s not being watched. As you see him, he sees you and bolts down the street.

Monk (OOC): Hey, [DM]? Be honest with me: is this a chase sequence? City streets, back alleys, rooftops, dodging through crowds?

DM: …Yeah, why?

Monk (OOC): Is there anything especially cool that happens in this chase?

DM: Not really.

Monk (OOC): Perfect. How far away is Ludvig from me?

DM: One hundred feet.

Monk (OOC): Perfect. I’m going to save us all a half hour of dice rolling then.

Monk: I move 35 feet, use a ki point to dash another 70, and use my attack to crane kick Ludvig in the back of the knees with my full momentum. (rolls to hit, succeeds)

DM: *rolls* …Jeeeesus Christ.

DM: …I assume all of you have skinned a knee before?

Party: Yeah.

DM: The rest of the party sees nothing but a blur before Ludvig’s legs are taken out from under him as he’s running full speed. He skins his knees, his hands and arms, and his face on the cobblestone as he skids fifteen feet face-down across the pavement. He is unconscious and bleeding out.

Fighter: I guess I’m gonna go interrogate that back alley dealer.

Paladin: I guess I’m gonna go heal the villain.

Hormones

Hiyaaaaaaaaaaaaa… I did it! Finally managed to finish this one! Thank you for everyone who enjoyed the preview, I really hope you buys enjoy the full thing. Please let me know what you thought of it! Lots of love, B xx

***

Originally posted by grabiajulia

Hormones.

They’re funny little things. 

Sometimes they take over your body and make you do things that you wouldn’t ever do if it weren’t for the obscene amount of hormones coursing through your bloodstream - you’d never eat a plate full of pasta and a whole chocolate bar right after or cry at the butter commercial cause that family looks just so damn happy that they have their butter and each other… And you would not, under any circumstances, be thinking about how much you want your friend to fuck you into oblivion if it weren’t for the hormones.

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Day One: Homesickness

Thought I’d start off @vldangstweek with something that turns from angsty to fluffy, just because, based on the rest of this weeks prompts, it’s gonna get waaayyyy angstier (knowing me, anyway). Everything will be tagged with vldangstweek and any of my usual angst tags (angst, langst, klangst, etc)

Let my children go home, they’re stressed and tired (under a cut for length).


“Come on Lance, one more time! You need to defeat this gladiator before I can allow anyone to go to dinner!” Allura shouted down from the observation deck.

The quiet groans of his teammates filled his head and Lance winced, stepping back to stand his ground against the bot attacking him. His vision wavered over his helmet and his fingers trembled against his bayard, unable to form it because of the close range combat style. He grunted, rolling as the bot dove for him, sweeping it’s legs out from under it and sending it to the ground. Briefly, he heard Hunk’s cheer of encouragement in his comms, and then the bot was back up again, charging at him.

Lance sighed, side stepping the bot and pressing his shaking hands to his head, trying to stop the swimming feeling in his brain, the burn at the back of his throat and eyes, the tightness in his chest. He took a hit, hard, and fell backwards onto his ass, teeth clacking together.

“Dude, seriously, we’re starving!” Pidge called out. “You need to beat this!”

Lance took a shaky breath, shooting a glare at the deck. “You want me to beat it? Fine. I’ll beat it.”

Before the bot could get any closer, Lance whipped out his bayard, transforming it in the process and ignoring Allura’s shouts of this being a hand to hand fight. Within seconds, the bot was in a smoking heap on the floor and Lance was shaking, sweat curling down his forehead. Allura stormed out of the observation deck and onto the main floor, eyebrows furrowed. “That was not the assignment, Lance. You’ll have to do it again.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

Lance ripped off his helmet and chucked it to the ground. When he looked up, Allura took a step back at the ferocity in his face, the tears in his eyes. “I said, no. I’m not doing this bull shit anymore. They’re not either,” he snapped, pointing towards the deck. “You don’t get to treat us this way, we’re the only reason you’re not dead or still in those stupid pods. You called us family, Allura.”

His voice broke and his lip quivered as he stumbled back, shaking his head. “You don’t get to treat family like this. Not when we’re doing all of this for you.”

He swallowed and spun on his heel, storming from the room. Allura hesitated, glancing back at the deck only to find the rest of the paladins and Coran standing behind her. She studied the group, noted the lines on their faces and the bags under their eyes, and frowned. “Do you all agree with him?”

They remained silent for a moment, glancing at each other. Hunk spoke up first, his voice gentle. “Yeah. I do, at least.”

“Me too,” Pidge piped up, staring at the floor and fiddling with her bayard.

Keith nodded silently, rubbing a hand up and down one arm and looking off to the side. Hunk huffed. “Allura, we…I would say we’re homesick, but I don’t know if that covers all of us.”

“We’re Earth sick,” Keith offered. “And Lance…”

Shiro spoke for the first time. “Lance has the most family to miss out of the five of us.”

“And honestly?” Hunk muttered. “You yelling all the time, you pushing him, and us, all the time? No breaks, no relaxation time at all? I’m amazed he didn’t snap before this.”

Allura swallowed. “I’m…”

“It’s okay,” Hunk promised. “We understand, you want to stop the Galra, stop Zarkon.”

“But you have to remember that we’re all volunteering to do this,” Pidge said, fidgeting from foot to foot. “There’s nothing keeping anyone here other than empathy. Don’t give Lance a reason to stop caring, or he will leave.”

Allura bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder. “I should go-”

“No,” Keith said firmly, stepping forwards and resting a hand on Allura’s arm. “We got this. You two go get dinner.”

She and Coran studied the paladins for a moment before nodding in agreement and leaving the training deck.

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When They Try to Take Us Down

Summary: Phil doesn’t like when hate preachers come to campus. They make him nervous and uncomfortable. But this time, Dan is there to help him through it in an unexpected, yet pleasant way.
Word Count: 2,201
Warnings: homophobic slurs, hate speech, anxiety
Title creds: Let the Flames Begin - Paramore
A/N: Thank you to @snowbunnylester (as always) for prompting me this! I’ve been on a writing splurge lately and I honestly don’t know how I’m doing it. Lemme know it you like this!

Read it on AO3

-

There is an angry aura surrounding campus in the form of ignorant slurs and angry responses. This only happens on the occasion, but it makes Phil nervous each time, a pit in his stomach and his throat closing up as he tries to walk as fast as possible past the angry crowd.

There was a man, dressed in preacher’s clothes and holding a sign with a list of the types of people who were going to “go to hell”. Phil didn’t have to look to know that homosexuals and masturbators and adulterers were on the list. He swallowed and ducked his head, trying to move as fast as he could. Dan was ahead of him, probably shaking his head and scoffing as he does every time they passed by a preacher like this. Sometimes Phil thinks he’s more upset about this kind of thing than Phil is, despite being the heterosexual one in their friendship, just by the way he wasn’t afraid to shout his opinions right back.

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Bad Girls Get Punished

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Smut, nsfw, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, use of toys, dom / sub, punishment, slight bondage, unprotected sex 

Word Count: 1400

Summary: Bucky punishes you after you’ve been a bad girl 


I sat on the edge of the bed in nothing but my matching black lace bra and panties, hands tucked under my thighs like commanded. The cool air in the bedroom was tickling my bare skin, causing a shiver to roll down my spine, goosebumps rising over my arms and legs. I had been sitting here waiting for twenty minutes and the anticipation of what was coming was making it hard to sit still. My arousal already pooling hot in the pit of my belly.

I closed my eyes and bit hard on my bottom lip, taking a long breath as I pictured Bucky’s face clearly in my mind. We’d been at the club, drinking, celebrating. And maybe I’d pushed his buttons by looking at Pietro a little too fondly, and maybe Pietro’s hands had wandered a little too low while we were dancing; whatever it was though Bucky had passed jealous within seconds and arrived furious. He tugged me back against his chest and away from Pietro’s sticky fingers, making sure I felt the press of his erection along the crease of my ass as he whispered heavily in my ear that I was going to pay for it later. Honestly, that had been the exact reaction I’d been hoping for. 

I moaned quietly, clenching my thighs together as I imagined what he might be doing later. Bucky never kept punishments the same, he mixed it up so I never knew what to expect, so I never knew what was coming.

“What are you thinking about?”

My eyes popped open as Bucky’s voice broke my train of thought, the breath catching in my throat as I watched him walk towards me, only dressed in his dark jeans from earlier, the hard planes of his chest illuminated in the soft light in the bedroom. Suddenly remembering what he’d asked I shook my head quickly.
“Nothing,” I stammered out. Bucky clicked his tongue, shaking one of his metal fingers at me.
“Nothing?” He repeated. “Are you sure you weren’t thinking about Pietro’s hands all over you?”

I shook my head again, wetting my lips with my tongue.
“N - no, I wasn’t thinking of him.”
“Good girl.”

Bucky knelt in front of me, tracing each of his hands up the fronts of my legs until he reached my knees, the corners of his lips picking up into a smirk as he pulled them apart. I inhaled sharply through my nose as he lent forward between my legs, pulling out a wooden box from under the bed.

Bucky rifled through it for a second before looking up at me, nodding towards the top of the bed.

“Go and lie down, hands above your head.”
I did so without question, getting myself comfortable on the pillows before lifting my arms up, my eyes staying on Bucky as he lent over me, his breath ghosting over my face as he secured my wrists to the headboard with the silk scarves he had hold of. I tested them as soon as he was finished; they were tight but not enough that it was cutting any circulation off.

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alphaandhismate  asked:

Hey Rachel got a question for ya. Do you think Stiles would feel inadequate compared to all the buff sexy werewolves and push himself​ to the breaking point trying to look like he belongs? Cause I have this headcanon where he decides to work out to make himself look like he belongs beside the wolves but it doesn't work out to well and he winds up doing more harm than good. Which upsets Derek when he finds out (because he loves the idiot but he won't admit it)

Aw I can absolutely see this. Stiles, already prone to insecurity and the feeling of not being good enough, slowly being worn down by that itching knowledge in his skull of being that he’s not as strong as any of his friends, not as attractive as any of his friends, and sure as hell not as useful as any of them, right? Sure, he’s smart. He knows that. But what the hell use is that in battle? He can’t dive in front of a bullet to keep the others from hurting, can’t stand beside the others and fight at anything close to their level.

And no matter how much he smirks at enemies’ jibes and plays off as enjoying being the group’s token human (”means I get to leave all the heavy lifting to you guys, right?”) it’s a feeling that would keep building up over time, pushing at the back of his skull every time the pack insists he be left behind on a certain mission, that he should stay where he’s safe, or gets offhandedly told he’ll just slow the others down. Every time they go running out in the preserve and he gets to sit behind and watch the car. Every time he goes out with the group and finds himself wondering what he looks like in everyone else’s eyes: this circle of beautiful beyond belief, supernaturally perfect people and then… him.

He couldn’t share his worries with the others –– Scott would get that worried look in his eyes and insist Stiles is perfect the way he is. Lydia might not share the same speed and strength as the others but she’s always been supernaturally beautiful, and she’s got her own banshee tricks to help out in a fight. So he keeps it inside, bottles it up… and he starts to push himself. Stays after school lifting weights until his limbs are wrecked from it, goes out running until his legs are shaking under him. Thinking one more lift, one more mile, one step closer to belonging.

And it starts working, too. He’s able to keep up with the pack sometimes, on their more casual runs. He’s gaining muscle, losing any last hints of baby fat. But there are hollowed shadows under his eyes too and he’s not eating enough, probably, but that’s fine. It’s fine when he wrestles with Liam and ends up with a purpled bruise blooming out across his ribs from a too-hard tackle. It’s fine that he can’t really sleep anymore because his muscles are always burning. It’s fine because he’s started looking at pictures of the group after pack events and almost seeing a group of people who fit together, not a handful of perfect people around a lanky, awkward him. Who the hell wouldn’t sacrifice a little comfort and the ability to lift his arms above his head for that?

.-

Derek’s the one who notices first, because of course he is. Drops in through the bedroom window one night like the supernatural stalking creeper he used to be, and finds Stiles collapsed to an exhausted heap against the side of his bed. Too tired and too sore to have stripped off his sweat-stained shirt or make it the extra step to lay down on it. He forces a smile when he spots Derek, but it’s more pained than it should be. Wavers at the edges. Derek ignores his opening jibe, doesn’t comment on the way Stiles tries to push himself up on unsteady palms and falters, a spasm of motion that starts and dies just as fast. Just moves silent, sits down next to him on the floor at the foot of the bed. There’s a world of words in his silence, a disapproving air Stiles can feel deep in his bones, and he finds himself saying “I’m fine,” low and head ducked, like it’s a lie.

It’s not a lie. But it’s not exactly true either, is it?

Derek’s eyes are on Stiles’ face now, flicking down his damp shirt, over his faintly trembling limbs, and it’s like he’s seeing too much suddenly, seeing through walls Stiles is too tired to pull up. People aren’t supposed to see him at this point in the day; they’re supposed to see him in the morning when he has the energy to grin and bounce and keep up with the rest of them like it’s effortless. They’re not supposed to see the tired bruises under his eyes or the way he shakes from hours of trying to hold himself at a werewolf’s level.

He wets his lips, a flash of frustration burning bitter through him.

“Look, I’m not strong like you guys.” It’s not news. It’s been a constant refrain for the past two years of his life, ever since Scott was bit and turned into a superhero sports star girl magnet and left Stiles standing awkwardly in his dust. Stiles couldn’t ask for the bite, Scott wouldn’t understand. And he doesn’t think he wants it either, not really. He doesn’t want the claws or the anchors or the pulls to the moon. He just wants to be able to keep up with them. Wants to not be the funny one in a group of supermodels. Doesn’t want to be the weak one in a group of heroes. Doesn’t want to be the one holding them back.

He bites over a frustrated sound, frowns at Derek’s faintly pinched brows, manages to lift one bone-dead arm and snaps out even more harshly: “I’m not… hot.”

It’s not the whole issue, it barely touches the issue, but it’s too much already and he scowls after he says it, daring Derek to snort or mock him or roll his eyes and agree, obviously, but that searching look only seems to sink deeper and Derek murmurs, “You’re wrong.”

Which is just… it’s worse than laughing. Because Stiles could handle people dismissing him, mocking him. He’s used to that. What he can’t take is Derek fucking Hale feeling so goddamned bad about his patheticness that he’s reduced to lying to try and comfort him.

“Oh, right, sure. I’m hot. You guys are all freaking Greek gods with all the muscle and the… faces.” He snorts, falling back against an overworked spine that protests the pressure. “You can’t even talk. You’ve always been the hottest person ever. You’ve got no idea what it’s like to be the one no one ever wants.”

Derek’s eyes flick down Stiles again, reassessing, and Stiles winces over the realization that Derek’s trying to find something, anything likable on his wiry frame.

Don’t––” He starts, because he physically cannot handle that, but Derek’s saying “You’re wrong,” again, and it’s soft and warm in a way that doesn’t sound like pity.

But Stiles doesn’t let himself feel it. The “oh yeah?” he shoots back is sure and challenging, almost smug in its confidence because maybe he’s not beautiful beyond all reason like the man next to him, maybe he’s not strong and desirable and wanted but at least he’s smart enough to realize that.

Derek lets out a growl of frustration and turns where he’s sitting, crowds in close with palms pressed to either side of Stiles’ thigh, and Stiles is on the edge of rolling his eyes because does Derek seriously think he can intimidate Stiles into changing his mind about himself, but then “you’re wrong” falls out a third time, a too-warm growl of a whisper, and Derek closes the space between their lips.

Stiles loses his conviction in the contact.

Derek’s hands move over him while they kiss, dragging soothing tips and scolding pinches over his wrecked muscles in ways that leave him groaning, touches sinking you’re beautiful and you’re wanted under his skin in ways the best words probably never could. Hands trail down to play across Stiles’ fingers, silently praising the cleverness of them. Beard-rough lips drift up to kiss across his temple and a warmth of admiration seems to melt into him with each press. And Stiles can barely move, arms aching protest as he lifts them to thread into Derek’s hair, body quivering in ways that shift between exhaustion and want.

When Derek finally leans back Stiles whimpers, wanting more but too worn down to chase him. But Derek’s watching him from inches away in the dark room, and there’s no reflected flaws in those dark eyes now. Just you’re beautiful, you’re wanted. You’re important

Stiles runs light thumbs down Derek’s beard, lets out a light laugh he barely recognizes.

“Guess I believe you,”

(And from now on, on nights when the pack goes out running, Stiles and Derek find a more interesting way to occupy themselves by the cars.)

The Five Things You Know, and the One You Don’t

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2567

A/N:  back for round twoooo…..I feel like we all need some Bucky fluff right now

Originally posted by yourlipbalm

“Dammit!”

You lost your second out of four lives in this Nerf war, thanks to someone—someone most likely named Steve.  He’s a sneaky one. It’s pouring outside and nobody was in the mood to do anything productive, naturally the first suggestion had been a Nerf war.

“Y/N, you will be avenged!”

Pietro vaults over the couch, very action movie-esque, which would have been impressive if he hadn’t been shot right after.

“Oh. Sorry, I’m out,” he sighs.  

“It’s okay, I appreciate the backup,” you say, sending your teammate a smile. By your count, it was only Bucky and you left on your team, versus Steve, Sam and Wanda on the other.  You weren’t sure how many lives each of them had, but you all promised to be honest.

“Y/N,” Bucky hisses. He waves his Nerf gun in a complicated circle.

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12.16 coda

AAAAAND we’re back, lovelies! As usual, if you’d like to be added to my master taglist, shoot me a message and I’ll stick you onto the next one!

It feels wrong for some reason not telling Castiel that Claire shows up on their case in Wisconsin, but he’s been swallowing that bullshit about “giving people space” for months now and he’s trying to do right by her at least. Let her make her own choices. Besides, it’s kind of nice having her tag along. She’s a pretty cool kid.

He should have called the minute he figured out what Mick was up to. He knows he should have. But it all happens so fast with the bite and the cure and he’s too busy blaming everyone in that room for what’s happening to his - to Claire. His hand, his hand shoved that poisonous needle into Claire’s skin, he as good as killed her himself. “I need some air.” He yanks on the doorknob like he wants to rip Mick’s head off his body and and steps out into the cold night air.

For a minute all he can do is stand on the threshold, chest heaving. He’s frozen to the front step, a terrible ringing in his ears.

And then he hears another high-pitched, agonized scream. It scares him into moving.

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Captain's Pick Up lines
  • Bokuto: Hoot hoot! You're cute!
  • Akaashi: Get out of my house Bokuto-san
  • -
  • Daichi: Did you sit in a pile of sugar? Cause that ass is sweet
  • Suga: *covering Asahi's ears* Not around the children!
  • -
  • Oikawa: Nobody's perfect except me. But you're pretty damn close
  • Iwaizumi: *kicks Oikawa's legs out from under him*
  • -
  • Kuroo: Did it hurt when you fell for me?
  • Tsukishima: No, but I scraped my knees when I crawled up the stairs of hell
  • Bonus
  • Ushijima: If you had come to Shiratorizawa, you could've been my star setter
  • Oikawa: HOW DID YOU GET IN MY HOUSE
Butterfly wings

Shiro-
When it came to sparing there was an unspoken rule that going against Shiro meant you go down hard and fast if you wanted to avoid serious injury.
Everyday when they would split off to do their old things, everyone actively avoided being pulled into the training room by Shiro and stuck spending the next hour or so being thrown to the ground.
Today Lance was the unlucky victim and despite his protests and even saying he was going to help Coran with ship repairs, he was still dragged along unable to prevent the inevitable.
He stood opposite the leader of voltron in his civilian clothes with a sad excuse for a fighting stance.
“Ok Lance I just want to try out a new move on you ok?”
Lance shook his head no but Shiro only responded with a soft chuckled as he swung his leg at Lance’s ribs.
Lance managed to block with his forearms but had his legs pulled out from under him.
“Umph” Lance gasped as he fell to the ground all the air forced out of his lungs.
If the pain of being sent to the floor wasn’t bad enough having his hero laugh at him sure did.
“Ha ha very funny.” Lance rolled his eyes a small grin at the corner of his mouth. He was about to stand when Shiro’s expression quickly morphed into worry.
“Lance… oh God your skin.”
Lance cringed looking down seeing his shirt had rided up just enough to show the pale patches across his stomach.
He scrambled to pull his shirt down backing away. “It’s nothing!” He said too quickly with panic clear in his voice.
“Lance scars like that aren’t nothing, what happened?” Shiro asked calmly dropping to one knee as to be eye level with him. He felt guilty for not having noticed them before, he was the leader and if Lance had kept an injury from him it could of gotten the whole team killed.
Lance looked at him for a moment in stunned silence before he began to crumble in on himself. Arms wrapped around his stomach and shoulders shaking with his head bent down.
Shiro placed a comforting hand on the blue Paladins shoulder not sure what else to do.
A snort suddenly escaped Lance, followed by a round of uncontrollable laughter.
Shiro fell back in surprise staring at Lance as if he had gone crazy.
“Ok…ok I’m good now.” Lance gasped between giggles “it’s not scars It’s just how my skin is.”
Shiro looked at Lance for a moment before hitting himself in the head for being so stupid “you already told me.”
Lance nodded “yep, but theirs no shame in not knowing what vitiligo means, the shames in pretending to know what it is for a a month.”
Shiro blushed remembering when Lance had come to him late one night with a whispered confession of his condition. At the time Lance had needed acceptance and despite not knowing what his condition was Shiro was more then happy to give it to him.
Of course he had intended to research exactly what it was later on, but there never seemed to be a spare minute.
“Sorry.” Shiro mumbled.
“Nah don’t worry about it, this is the best laugh I’ve had in ages.”

This is for the beautiful @stylesforinfinity who is an absolute babe and who yesterday was super sweet about my writing, so this is the only form of thank you that seems adequate. 

This isn’t how Andrew expected the day to go…

The day starts normal enough. Or as normal as it can with house guests. He and Neil picked up Nicky and Erik from the airport yesterday, and with the jetlag, both are up especially early. It’s them puttering about in the kitchen–the gurgling of the coffee maker, the clinking of mugs, and their whispered voices–that wakes Andrew. Andrew opens his eyes to Neil still fast asleep beside him. The striker’s cheek is creased from where it’s pressed into the pillow, and his bangs have curled over his eyes. Andrew’s fingers twitch to fix it. 

It’s only a few moments before Neil’s eyes flutter open, the blue of them softened by the early morning sun bleeding in through the curtains. 

“Morning,” Neil mumbles, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. 

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Celibacy (Brett Talbot Imagine)

Brett Talbot x Reader


Warnings: Sexual content, dirty talk, masturbation, NSFW.

Summary: Brett’s neglecting you sex because his Lacrosse coach told the team it would affect their results on the field, and you decide to take the ‘problem’ into your own hands.


_



“Please Y/N, get off me.” Brett grunted when you once again tried to straddle his lap in the sofa. Pulling you down beside him and shoved a pillow to cover your almost naked body.

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The Broken & the Healing {NESSIAN Oneshot}

Wrote this on a whim, there was not a lot of planning involved. I sat down to write an essay for economics, and this flowed out instead.

Cassian’s POV. Little smut. Lots of sass. 

I hope you enjoy!


“Hit me.”

Nesta blinked at my outstretched hands. “This is ridiculous.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her serious, and highly annoyed, expression. “You said you wanted me to train you. I’m training you. You are a beginner. I am your instructor. Do as I say.”

Her lips twisted into a sadistic smile. “Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?”

“Nesta. Hit.”

She rolled her eyes, flinging out her hand, her palm hitting mine.

“What, are you giving me a high five?” I raised my eyebrows.

She bared her teeth, sending a chill down my spine. Not from terror, but from something far more animalistic. 

I remembered who I was dealing with.

“Try, Nesta,” I ordered, pushing aside the images that had popped into my mind. “I don’t expect you to be perfect, but I know you can do a hell of a lot better than that.”

I thought of her during the war, when she saved me, when she protected me. When she fought by my side as my equal in battle. When I thought her face would be the last one that I’d see before eternity swept me away.

She gave me a look that said I am perfect, but kept her mouth shut as she made a second attempt.

I chuckled. “You hit like a girl.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she yelled, frustrated, throwing her arms in the air. “I have seen Mor, Amren, and Feyre all give you serious bruises. And, yes, I was there when Amren knocked you on your ass last week.”

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BambiBaby_666

Summary: You’re a cam girl who ‘somehow’ managed to convince your neighbour Simon and his friend Negan to make a surprise appearance on your cam show, after a night of long drinking of course. A week after the wonderful experience, you decide to watch the show on your own to let off some built-up steam. (Pre-Apocalypse)

Pairing: Negan x Reader x Simon

Word Count: 4,098 (Got carried away, sorry!)

Type: One shot, smut

Warnings: Pre-Apocalypse, unprotected sex, swearing, excessive drinking, explicit smut, voyeurism, masturbation.

Rating: NSFW

Fic Notes: Long passages of italics are flashbacks/memories, block quotes & italics together are what’s happening on screen.

Italics

Block Quotes & italics 

Author’s Notes: Heya, here is my submission for @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash Negan Writing Challenge Round 2! My Prompt was Negan x OC x Simon. I decided to write some awesome smutty three way – are my voyeurism and masturbation kinks showing? For some reason, I was super nervous about this because it was my first time writing with flashbacks ect… Please feel free to give me feedback!

 Masterlist

You lay in bed, laptop resting on a pile of pillows as you scroll through your Tumblr dashboard. The occasional porn gif or image sprouting its head, buried between pictures of cats and the odd aesthetic nature photograph. Your mind wondered to the two people you had been thinking about most the week, Simon and Negan. It had been 1 week since your sensual encounter with them. You hadn’t uttered a word to them since, although there were some sneaky winks and side eyes from Simon’s window that looked onto your balcony – there was never a follow up fuck.

Whether it had been the alcohol that made you instigate the three-way or your dire need to be well and truly fucked, you hadn’t built up the same amount of courage to re-do the wonderful experience. Both Simon and Negan were intimidating in every way possible, and although you always try to come across as confident and in control, those two seemed to steal those traits away from you without even trying.


“Y’know they say drinking alone is an early sign of being a fucking alcoholic.”

Perking up from the hard-wooden chair on your balcony and looking up over the rim of your glass you see Simon’s friend, Negan. He seems to have opened the window of Simon’s apartment that overlooks your small balcony.

“Well, shit. I don’t want that – Guess I need some drinking buddies to downplay this depressing situation?” You yell back, swallowing the rising burp that was in your throat.

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because this post is relevant to my interests and I want in on it

Danny Fenton was well known for many things among his school peers.

His absurdly frequent bathroom breaks, his strange ghost hunting parents, all the pencils he owned having their ends chewed clean off, his habit of falling asleep in literally every class…

One thing he was never even remotely well known for was his talent in gym, namely because he had never shown any skill in the realm of sports in his entire teenage life, due mostly to his habit of kicking anything but the ball and his inability to even show up half the time.

Which is why Mrs. Tetslaff’s class stared in stunned confusion as they tried to process how the only person left facing down Dash the-dodgeball-champion Baxter could possibly be scrawny, little Danny can’t-catch-a-ball-to-save-his-life Fenton.

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Second-Hand Apology (Zach DempseyxFem!Reader)

Originally posted by veronicsalodge


Okay so, don’t hate me for this. But I started watching 13 Reasons Why, and I fell in love with Zach Dempsey fast & hard. Naturally, I started thinking about him. Then I started writing about him in a reader insert kinda way…. and now I have an actual fic. Because I’m in love with him. It isn’t as long as the other one’s I’ve written, but I had to get it out of my system. SO HERE IT IS KIDDIES I LOVE ZACH DEMPSEY AND IM NOT SORRY ABOUT IT. 

Let me know if y’all like it and want more 13 Reasons Why fics!

This fic is rated SFW!

Trigger Warnings: Sexual objectivity/ Sexual Harassment/ Bullying )

You felt nauseous.

Ever since yesterday afternoon, when you’d caught wind of a “Hot or Not” list about the girls in your grade. And you heard somewhere you were on it.

The following afternoon, when you saw just about every guy in the sophomore class crowded around Alex Standall’s locker, you felt like any minute you’d keel over and hurl. And when you decided to see what all the fuss was about, just about every guy let out a wolf whistle when they saw you, obviously staring you up and down. 

You felt a sour taste in your mouth over just how uncomfortable you felt, and when you shoved through everybody. Bryce, leaning next to Alex’s locker, had that predatory look on his face that always gave you chills. Justin was patting Alex’s back, Monty was cackling as he read them aloud. He seemed to notice your presence, though, and hesitated his reading with a smirk on his face. 

“What great timing, huh boys?” 

Bryce was staring you up and down, and Montgomery’s voice was resonating in your ears. “I’d say Alex got this dead on. ‘Best Tits - Y/N.’”

 The crowd of boys all heckled and laughed along with Justin, you noticed Zach Dempsey standing behind him with a weird look on his face.

 Bryce started towards you, “Gotta agree, bro.” Your legs were frozen in place, And your heart was pounding in your chest as his hands slipped up the outline of your hips, waist, to the sides of your bust, “Really a… work of art. What’d you eat to get so-“ His hands made contact there, the heels of his hands pressing against the sides of your bosom firmly, “filled in?”

 There was an outcry of ‘Hell yeah!’s and ‘Daaaamn’s and you felt like the world was closing in on you. Bryce’s eyes were staring down at you so coldly, devoid of anything but wolfish lust, and it was enough for you to throw your hands out and shove his chest. He took a step or two back, a confident smile on his face. You were speecheless, frantically looking around to see a sea of eager eyes staring straight at your chest, smug smirks, small chuckles under breaths. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you all?” You managed, your hands shaking. Marcus slipped past you, casually brushing his hand against your ass, giving Alex a high-five when he reached him, “Hell yeah, man! Nice fuckin’ job, you made some good calls.” You were staring at Alex, and he was avoiding your gaze.

“S’a compliment, babe, don’t be so seeerious.” Justin sneered, gesturing to you when he drew out the “e”. Bryce clapped his hand onto Justin’s shoulder, his eyebrows cocked cruelly, “Yeah, let off some steam, maybe you’d get a lil cooler without your shirt on.” 

The crowd of guys let out a loud cloud of agreement, and when you whipped around to stare at them all with wide eyes, you even noticed a few girls at the edge of the crowd regarding you judgementally. 

Soon enough, the boys were chanting, “Take it off! Take it off!” 

The walls were closing in, and your vision was clouding, and once again you felt someone brush the side of your bust with a hand. You slapped at it, letting out a choked cry, “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” 

The crowd only seemed to laugh harder. You wiped the tears from your eyes with the back of your hand and you glared at Alex. 

“Fuck you, Alex. What the hell did I ever fucking do to you?”

He was silent for a second, but with Bryce egging him on with elbow nudges and Justin waiting for his retort, he plastered on a smile with a confidence you could see right through and mumbled back. “Your fault for flaunting your tits all the time.” 

Once more, the bark of laughter hit your ear drums like a clap of thunder. Your eyes were tearing again, and you glared down the line of Marcus, Bryce, then Justin, then Alex. Your gaze shifted to Zach, who was staring at the ground. Then, as violently as you could, you shoved back through the crowd of assholes that teased you and pulled at your bra straps until you started running down the hall. 

Tears were streaming down your face by now, and it seemed every guy you ran by gave you that same disgusting leer and every girl looked at you condescendingly. It was getting hard to breathe, and you were lucky enough to find an empty classroom down a relatively quiet hallway. You shoved the door open and then closed it behind you, stumbling to the teacher’s desk and planting your hands there. 

You were blubbering quietly, hoping not to call any attention to yourself. The last thing you wanted was Porter finding you and prodding you until you snapped and got yourself suspended. But it was too hard to hold in, and your sobs echoed in the darkened room only to make it feel like the walls were closing in. Your legs gave out from under you and you fell to your knees. Curling up against the base of the desk, you cried quietly into your hands. 

What had you done to deserve that kind of harassment? You kept to your group of friends most of the time, you were kind to just about everyone in school, even polite to assholes like Bryce and Justin. But still, somehow, the universe decided to bite you in the ass. You knew this list wouldn’t blow over quickly, and guys would keep making comments that made your skin crawl. You felt slimy, and disgusting, and the tears wouldn’t seem to stop.

 The bell rang, but you were fairly sure there was no class this room during this period. However, as you sat quietly crying to yourself, you noticed a silhouette on the other side of the door and tensed when the door knob turned. You tried your best to wipe all the tears from your face as if it would make you look normal despite the definite red and puffiness of your eyes.

Judging by the large height of the person, you could assume it was a guy and you prayed you wouldn’t have to fight off a creep. However, as the door slowly opened, you were surprised to see Zach Dempsey was the one pushing it. Immediately, you straightened up against the desk and growled at him. “If you’re here to fucking harrass me, save it because I’ll rip off your fucking-“ 

He threw his hands up defensively after he closed the door behind him. “Woah, calm down. I’m not here to piss you off, I swear.” Even if the dark, your eyes traced over the lines of his face from where you were sitting.

 “So why are you here?” You ventured in a hoarse voice, sniffling, and slowly rising to your feet. He walked from the closed door, past you, to sit on the side of the teacher’s desk farthest from you. He wouldn’t seem to look at you, instead his gaze was fixed on the door and he shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I uh… I just wanted to see where you went. Make sure you were okay after all of that.” Hesitantly, you hopped onto the desk next to him with a distance between you two. His answer ticked you off. 

“Why care now? You didn’t say anything while all those dicks were groping me.” You muttered, wiping a stray tear from your cheek just after it had fallen from your eye. Zach hazarded a look then, at your face, and when your eyes met he awkwardly looked back down to his lap. “I’m sorry about them. Yeah, they’re my friends but they can be real assholes when they want to be.” 

You rolled your eyes and rubbed your upper arms. “Tell me about it.”

There was idle laughter outside the door as a few girls passed, and you clearly hear what they were laughing about. “Did you see it? She ran away crying like a baby. It’s just a fucking list!” 

There was a pang in your chest, and Zach shifted on the desk next to you. There was a stiff silence between the two of you until he spoke again, quietly, but you noticed he was facing you now. Slowly, you turned your body to look at him too. 

“They’re wrong. About that. Alex never should’ve written that list. And you don’t deserve guys grabbing you all the time.” His face indicated that he was being genuine, and he even looked a little bit remorseful. You noted his handsome features, and wondered why he bothered taking the time out of his “popular person” agenda to apologize to you. You kept your eyes on his as long as you could, the let them fall onto the desk between the two of you.

“If they’re your friends, why are you here? Shouldn’t you be, like, laughing along with them?” He shifted uncomfortably, then stood up as if he was getting restless from sitting.

His hands clasped behind his head and paced around before stopping in front of you and dropping his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Because I’m not, like, that big of an asshole like they are? You probably don’t believe me, I’m with them all the time, but I’m not like them like that, Y/N. They look at you and they see an awesome rack,” You scowled just a little bit, but he scrambled to save himself, “O-Or they look at Hannah Baker and see a really nice ass, but they don’t see that those girls on that list are people and that’s really fucked up. It’s a game to them, but when…” 

Zach took a breath, running his fingers through his hair. His eyes were pained as he stared back at you, and his voice was quiet and sincere. “Just now, when you ran away in tears.. that’s not a game. That’s not funny, and they’re pricks for laughing about it. And I’m sorry they hurt you like that… and that I didn’t tell them to fucking quit it.” 

The silence afterwards was making him shift where he stood, but you were at a loss for what to say back to him. You never expected that to come from him. He was right, that you saw him and expected him to be as much of a dick as his friends. But he wasn’t lying, you could tell in his eyes just how badly he wanted you to believe him. He was risking something by going out of his way to comfort you, and you realized then that you weren’t crying anymore. You mimicked his actions, running your fingers through your hair to smooth it out. Zach looked at you expectantly. 

“I believe you.” You murmured finally. 

Relief washed over his face, and it made you crack a bit of a smile. That seemed to make him happy, and he grew a soft half smile. Your chest tightened. He really was handsome, even in this hardly lit classroom. 

You swung your legs over the side of the teacher’s desk and murmured kindly, “Thank you, Zach. Really.” You laughed a tiny bit, “If you didn’t come along, I’d probably still be crying on the floor.”

His lips pursed into a line, and he looked sympathetic.

You looked at him curiously. “What class are you missing for this?”

 He stopped to ponder it, and his face fell when he came to the realization. “Oh fuck… bio. Shit!” 

You felt a tinge guilty, but smiled empathetically. “Sorry. But I do have to say I’m honored you’re missing such an important class for me.” 

Once again, his face shifted into a lopsided grin, and he took just a bit of a step closer to you. You could smell his cologne. He looked at you bashfully, “You’re worth it.” 

You bit your lip as your smile grew into a grin, “So are you going to go back to class? I’d hate for you to miss any more than you have to. And you’ve already helped out a ton, I feel way better.” 

Zach pulled his phone out of his pocket and clicked the home button. His nose wrinkled. “It’s like, the middle of class. Doesn’t make sense to go now.” 

The silence came back again, and you slowly slid back to your feet so you were standing in front of him. There was still an acceptable distance between you two, and you crossed your arms loosely over your chest. “Well, what, are we just gonna keep standing in the dark here?” You joked.

He scoffed as he tapped away on his phone, you assumed he was replying to a text message, “Well, we could do that. Or…” He looked up from his phone, “We could go do something else. We have what, an hour and a half left today? What do you say we ditch and go do something fun?” He had one brow perked, waiting for your response. 

Sarcastically, you perked a brow right back and put your hands on your hips. “Zach Dempsey wants to miss school just to hang out with Y/N? This is wild.” 

He chuckled and shifted his weight to one leg to lightly kick your shoe with this, “Yeah, yeah, I’m a school nerd, I get it. Y’wanna go do something or not?” 

You weighed your choices in your mind. You could stay in this dark room, all alone, until the bell rang to sit through the rest of the school day. You could wait around in class, wondering why you were dumb enough to turn down hanging with Zach Dempsey. 

Or… you could ditch this prison building full of idiots, get to know Zach and maybe even… 

You reached up boldly to prod the middle of his muscled chest with your index finger, “Show me a good time, basketball star.” 

He laughed and grabbed your hand from there, pulling you towards the door. His hand was so warm… You squeezed it, and scurried along next to him into the hallway. 

The two of you peeked out, making sure no teachers were there to catch you, and you hurried to the nearest exit. You hopped onto his Audi and drove off to your date with Zach Dempsey.