man with folded arms

How to Write a Novel:  Tips For Visual Thinkers.

1.  Plotting is your friend.

This is basically a must for all writers (or at least, it makes our job significantly easier/less time consuming/less likely to make us want to rip our hair out by the roots), but visual thinkers tend to be great at plotting.  There’s something about a visible outline that can be inexplicably pleasing to us, and there are so many great ways to go about it.   Here are a few examples: 

  • The Three-Act Structure
    • This one is one of the simplest:  it’s divided into the tried-and-true three acts, or parts, a la William Shakespeare, and includes a basic synopsis of what happens in each.  It’s simple, it’s familiar, it’s easy to add to, and it get’s the job done. 
    • It starts with Act I – i.e. the set-up, or establishing the status quo – which is usually best if it’s the shortest act, as it tends to bore audiences quickly.  This leads to Act II, typically the longest, which   introduces the disruptor and shows how characters deal with it, and is sandwiched by Act III (the resolution.)  
  • The Chapter-by-Chapter
    • This is the one I use the most.  It allows you to elucidate on the goings on of your novel in greater detail than the quintessential three act synopsis generally could, fully mapping out your manuscript one chapter at a time.  The descriptions can be as simple or as elaborate as you need them to be, and can be added to or edited throughout the progression of your novel.
    • Can easily be added to/combined with the three-act structure.
  • The Character Arc(s)
    • This isn’t one that I’ve used a lot, but it can be a lot of fun, particularly for voice-driven/literary works:  instead on focusing on the events of the plot, this one centralizes predominantly around the arc of your main character/characters.  As with its plot-driven predecessors, it can be in point-by-point/chapter-by-chapter format, and is a great way to map out character development.  
  • The Tent Moments
    • By “tent moments,” I mean the moments that hold up the foundation (i.e. the plot) of the novel, in the way that poles and wires hold up a tent.  This one builds off of the most prevalent moments of the novel – the one’s you’re righting the story around – and is great for writers that want to cut straight to the action.  Write them out in bullet points, and plan the rest of the novel around them.
  • The Mind Map
    • This one’s a lot of fun, and as an artist, I should probably start to use it more.  It allows you to plot out your novel the way you would a family tree, using doodles, illustrations, and symbols to your heart’s content.  Here’s a link to how to create basic mind maps on YouTube.

2.  “Show don’t tell” is probably your strong suit.

If you’re a visual thinker, your scenes are probably at least partially originally construed as movie scenes in your head.  This can be a good thing, so long as you can harness a little of that mental cinematography and make your readers visualize the scenes the way you do.

A lot of published authors have a real big problem with giving laundry lists of character traits rather than allowing me to just see for myself.  Maybe I’m spoiled by the admittedly copious amounts of fanfiction I indulge in, where the writer blissfully assumes that I know the characters already and let’s the personalities and visuals do the talking.  Either way, the pervasive “telling” approach does get tedious.

Here’s a hypothetical example.  Let’s say you wanted to describe a big, tough, scary guy, who your main character is afraid of.  The “tell” approach might go something like this:

Tommy was walking along when he was approached by a big, tough, scary guy who looked sort of angry.

“Hey, kid,” said the guy.  “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to a friend’s house,” Tommy replied.  

I know, right?  This is Boring with a capital ‘B.’  

On the other hand, let’s check out the “show” approach:

The man lumbered towards Tommy, shaved head pink and glistening in the late afternoon sun.  His beady eyes glinted predatorily beneath the thick, angry bushes of his brows.

“Hey, kid,” the man grunted, beefy arms folded over his pot belly.  “Where are you going?” 

“I’m going to a friend’s house,” Tommy replied, hoping the man didn’t know that he was ditching school.

See how much better that is?  We don’t need to be told the man is big, tough, and scary looking because the narrative shows us, and draws the reader a lot more in the process.  

This goes for scene building, too.  For example: 

Exhibit A:

Tyrone stepped out onto his balcony.  It was a beautiful night.

Lame.  

Exhibit B: 

Tyrone stepped out onto his balcony, looking up at the inky abyss of the night sky, dotted with countless stars and illuminated by the buttery white glow of the full moon.

Much better.

3.  But conversely, know when to tell.

A book without any atmosphere or vivid, transformative descriptors tends to be, by and large, a dry and boring hunk of paper.  That said, know when you’re showing the reader a little too much.

Too many descriptors will make your book overflow with purple prose, and likely become a pretentious read that no one wants to bother with.

So when do you “tell” instead of “show?”  Well, for starters, when you’re transitioning from one scene to the next.

For example:

As the second hand of the clock sluggishly ticked along, the sky ever-so-slowly transitioning from cerulean, to lilac, to peachy sunset.  Finally, it became inky black, the moon rising above the horizon and stars appearing by the time Lakisha got home.

These kind of transitions should be generally pretty immemorable, so if yours look like this you may want to revise.

Day turned into evening by the time Lakisha got home. 

See?  It’s that simple.

Another example is redundant descriptions:  if you show the fudge out of a character when he/she/they are first introduced and create an impression that sticks with the reader, you probably don’t have to do it again.  

You can emphasize features that stand out about the character (i.e. Milo’s huge, owline eyes illuminated eerily in the dark) but the reader probably doesn’t need a laundry list of the character’s physical attributes every other sentence.  Just call the character by name, and for God’s sake, stay away from epithets:  the blond man.  The taller woman.  The angel.  Just, no.  If the reader is aware of the character’s name, just say it, or rework the sentence. 

All that said, it is important to instill a good mental image of your characters right off the bat.

Which brings us to my next point…

4.  Master the art of character descriptions.

Visual thinkers tend to have a difficult time with character descriptions, because most of the time, they tend to envision their characters as played their favorite actors, or as looking like characters from their favorite movies or TV shows.

That’s why you’ll occasionally see characters popping up who are described as looking like, say, Chris Evans.  

It’s a personal pet peeve of mine, because A) what if the reader has never seen Chris Evans?  Granted, they’d probably have to be living on Mars, but you get the picture:  you don’t want your readers to have to Google the celebrity you’re thirsting after in order for them to envision your character.  B) It’s just plain lazy, and C) virtually everyone will know that the reason you made this character look like Chris Evans is because you want to bang Chris Evans.  

Not that that’s bad or anything, but is that really what you want to be remembered for?

Now, I’m not saying don’t envision your characters as famous attractive people – hell, that’s one of the paramount joys of being a writer.  But so’s describing people!  Describing characters is a lot of fun, draws in the reader, and really brings your character to life.

So what’s the solution?  If you want your character to look like Chris Evans, describe Chris Evans.

Here’s an example of what I’m talking about:

Exhibit A:

The guy got out of the car to make sure Carlos was alright, and holy cow, he looked just like Dean Winchester!

No bueno.  Besides the fact that I’m channeling the writing style of 50 Shades of Grey a little here, everyone who reads this is going to process that you’re basically writing Supernatural fanfiction.  That, or they’ll have to Google who Dean Winchester is, which, again, is no good.

Exhibit B:  

The guy got out of the car to make sure Carlos was alright, his short, caramel blond hair stirring in the chilly wind and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose.  His eyes were wide with concern, and as he approached, Carlos could see that they were gold-tinged, peridot green in the late afternoon sun.

Also note that I’m keeping the description a little vague here;  I’m doing this for two reasons, the first of which being that, in general, you’re not going to want to describe your characters down to the last detail.  Trust me.  It’s boring, and your readers are much more likely to become enamored with a well-written personality than they are a vacant sex doll.  Next, by keeping the description a little vague, I effectively manage to channel a Dean Winchester-esque character without literally writing about Dean Winchester.

Let’s try another example: 

Exhibit A:

Charlotte’s boyfriend looked just like Idris Elba. 

Exhibit B:  

Charlotte’s boyfriend was a stunning man, eyes pensive pools of dark brown amber and a smile so perfect that it could make you think he was deliciously prejudiced in your favor.  His skin was dark copper, textured black hair gray at the temples, and he filled out a suit like no other.

Okay, that one may have been because I just really wanted to describe Idris Elba, but you get the point:  it’s more engaging for the reader to be able to imagine your character instead of mentally inserting some sexy fictional character or actor, however beloved they may be.

So don’t skimp on the descriptions!

5.  Don’t be afraid to find inspiration in other media!

A lot of older people recommend ditching TV completely in order to improve creativity and become a better writer.  Personally, if you’ll pardon my French, I think this is bombastic horseshit.  

TV and cinema are artistic mediums the same way anything else is.  Moreover, the sheer amount of fanart and fanfiction – some of which is legitimately better than most published content – is proof to me that you can derive inspiration from these mediums as much as anything else.

The trick is to watch media that inspires you.  I’m not going to say “good media” because that, in and of itself, is subjective.  I, for example, think Supernatural is a fucking masterpiece of intertextual postmodernism and amazing characterization, whereas someone else might think it’s a hot mess of campy special effects and rambling plotlines.  Conversely, one of my best friends loves Twilight, both the movies and the books, which, I’m going to confess, I don’t get at all.  But it doesn’t matter that it isn’t good to me so long as it’s good to her.   

So watch what inspires you.  Consume any whatever movies, books, and shows you’re enthusiastic about, figure out what you love most about them, and apply that to your writing.  Chances are, readers will find your enthusiasm infectious.

As a disclaimer, this is not to say you get a free pass from reading:  I’ve never met a good writer who didn’t read voraciously.  If you’re concerned that you can’t fall in love with books the way you used to (which, sadly, is a common phenomenon) fear not:  I grappled with that problem after I started college, and I’ll be posting an article shortly on how to fall back in love reading.

So in the meanwhile, be sure to follow my blog, and stay tuned for future content!

(This one goes out to my friend, beta reader, and fellow writer @megpieeee, who is a tremendous visual thinker and whose books will make amazing movies someday.)

Cheap Pleather

Summary: You and Bucky have been given what was meant to be a simple task - but is it?

Word Count: 1,042

Warnings: Language

A/N: It’s short, it’s (hopefully) sweet, and I hope you enjoy it. The idea for this came as I was settling in to my new apartment, and dealing with the same frustrating task. 

“Just put it in.”

“Like this?”

“Ow, oh -”

“Babe?”

“No, no, I’m okay. Just go a little slower.”

“What in the hell -”

Sam’s voice broke your concentration, and you cursed when the heavy section of couch you’d been supporting slipped.

“Damn it, we were so close!” you huffed, dropping from your crouched position to sit roughly on the floor. Bucky, who’d been carefully maneuvering the back end of the couch, collapsed beside you. His face was flushed and sweat had beaded across your forehead; the pair of you were breathing all too heavily for the simple task you’d been given.

“You two still don’t got that thing together?” Sam chuckled, leaning against the wall behind him as he appraised you with amused eyes. You glared at him as Bucky spoke.

“It’s not as easy as you think.”

“It’s IKEA,” Sam snickered. “How hard could it be?”

How hard could it be?” You mimicked Sam in a dopey voice, screwing up your face stupidly as you turned your attention back to the disassembled couch. Sam guffawed and you swore you heard Bucky snicker, but when you shot him a quick glare his face was suspiciously expressionless.

“Alright, well,” Sam sighed, his voice much too jovial for your liking. “As much as I’d love to watch, I’ve got some real work to do.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky groaned, pushing himself back to his feet. You remained on the ground, glaring at the piece of hardware that had been giving you so much trouble. “Ready, doll?”

You peeked over the couch, satisfied to see that Sam was leaving, and nodded.


“It’s just gotta go - there, see?”

You were sweating again, having just carefully jammed the base of the couch into place.

“Hand me those screws,” you pointed, not daring to let go of the couch with your other arm. Bucky passed them over, and you had to practically crawl inside of the couch to put them where they belonged.

“IKEA,” you muttered under your breath, reaching blindly up into the innards of the couch and hoping the screw was going into the right place. “Swedish for fuck you.”

Bucky laughed, taking a few of the screws and getting to work on the other end of the couch.

“Just imagine what it’ll look like when it’s done,” he squinted in concentration, reaching just as blindly as you were.

“Like a cheap pleather couch,” you mumbled, starting to work on your last screw.

“Yeah, that reminds me,” Bucky said. You were somewhat annoyed that he was already placing his final screw - he’d worked so much faster than you had. “Tony could afford any piece of furniture in the world. Why in the hell did he order from some company that gets paid to deliver stuff unassembled?“

"Because he’s got a sick sense of humor,” you muttered darkly. You gave your screw a final, hard twist and then clambered to your feet, tiredly tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Bucky finished just after you did, and you stood back as he positioned the now-assembled couch against the wall.

“What do you think?” Bucky asked. He moved to your side and slipped an arm around your waist. Despite the fact that you were quite certain the air conditioning needed to be turned up and the heat radiating from Bucky didn’t help anything, you didn’t protest.

“I don’t know,” you sighed heavily, letting your head fall onto his chest. “Think it’ll hold up?”

Bucky’s chest rumbled with quiet laughter, and before you could question him, you were off your feet and in his arms.

“Only one way to find out,” he said, his face twisted into a mischievous smile. He twirled around and dropped you lightly onto the couch, which was just big enough for him to place his knees on either side of your hips. You stared up at him, your eyes narrowed despite the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach.

“Could be a bit bigger,” he shrugged, leaning over you so that his long hair fell forward and tickled your cheeks. “But I think we’ll make do.”

And then his lips were pressed gently against yours, and any stubborn sullenness you’d been holding on to vanished.

As your lips worked together, you felt a refreshingly cool hand slip beneath the hem of your shirt and you shivered. Bucky chuckled huskily, and then his tongue brushed across your bottom lip and you let out a soft moan. The hand at your waist slipped to the small of your back, pulling your body flush with his as he deepened the kiss.

“You guys about - oh, come on!”

You and Bucky broke apart instantly, your face turning a deep shade of red when you saw that Sam had returned. Bucky snorted, sitting up and pulling you with him so that you were tucked beneath his arm.

“I thought you had work to do,” you said, going for an accusatory tone that came out more like a squeak.

“I was coming to steal your man for a few hours,” Sam answered, folding his arms over his chest as his bright eyes danced between the pair of you. “Steve wants to-”

“Later,” Bucky interrupted. “We’ve got some more, uh, work to do.” You’d have thought it impossible, but your blush deepened. You smacked Bucky’s chest as he laughed and Sam made an exaggerated noise of disgust.

“You two have a room, you know,” Sam said, shaking his head and twisting on his heel to leave.

“We’ve earned this!” Bucky called after him. You rolled your eyes, listening as Sam’s footsteps quickly disappeared. Several quiet moments passed, Bucky absentmindedly strumming his fingers across your hip.

“Well,” Bucky sighed with contentment, slapping a hand down on the pleather couch cushion beside him. “I think it’s safe to say it’ll hold up just fine.”

You snorted softly, a small smile on your lips as you nestled against his chest. Your eyes were growing exceedingly heavy, and keeping them open was a losing battle. Bucky’s fingers ran soothingly through your hair, and the sound of his heartbeat gently lulled you to sleep.

“I love you,” Bucky whispered, pressing a light kiss to your temple. Even in your sleep, you smiled.


Tagging: @themilkface @writingruna @jarnesbrnes @bovaria @candycountries @pizzsa4thesoul @belfiore94 @marvelfanuniverse @strkundies @buckys-shield @feelmyroarrrr @sexyvixen7 @waituntilthedustsettles @camila1818 @happelu970 @younonothingrosie @kaywolves @thebrittybratt @fangirlwithasweettooth @capsbuchanan @chinkasaurusrexxx @stormy-thomas @plzstoptalkingnow @letsrunwithdream @hellomissmabel @catwomvn @wandaalianovna @avengersandchill @ryverpenrad @molethemollie @beccaanne814-blog @supersoldier-wifey @redroomproperty @buckysberrie @lilasiannerd @viollettes @bucky-plums-barnes

Since it’s been so long, if you’d like on/off my tagging list, let me know!

Dipped in Ink (Namjoon/Reader)

Prompt: REQUEST COMING THROUGH! Idk if you know what a stick and poke tattoo is, but I was wondering if I could have one with Joon where he gives the reader a stick and poke tattoo? I know he’s pretty clumsy but I feel like doing something like that for someone who he loves he’d be super careful. (if not pick any other member i’m cool with all my boys). I just think it’d be something sort of intimate cos it kinda hurts. and then maybe it could lead to some sexy times? THANKS LUV U

Genre: Smut

Words: 4K+

Author: Admin Kaycie

Summary: “You know,” He began carefully, voice lowering as he leaned back over your body, pushing the needle into your flesh again slowly. “I’ve heard that for some pain can be an aphrodisiac…”

Tags: Mentions of Tattooing (needles, blood, etc.), Dirty Talk, Mutual Masturbation, Daddy!Joon, Baby Girl, etc. 

Please note, I am no expert in the art of anything tattoo related, so please do not try to be rude if I messed up any of the details as far as that goes.

Originally posted by rapnamu


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Lights On

Anonymous asked: can you do an first meet encounter? it can end however you’d like!

A/N: I kinda combined this with the one where someone requested more smut?? Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: swearing, smut, oral (male receiving)

Originally posted by justcuchu

The cool summer nights were one of your favorite things about life at the moment. You made it a habit to come to this park and sit on the swing, sketching a picture out in the dim lighting of the moon. 

It calmed you, being able to watch people as dusk fell over the park and they began packing their things to go home. Soon enough, you were alone in the park and added shading to a drawing of the worn down park bench across from you that you had started a couple days ago. 

The chains that held the swing up creaked while your legs pushed your body back and forth, swaying softly with the wind. 

You heard rushed footsteps, causing you to slam your sketchbook closed and turn your attention to the sidewalk in front of you. 

Your heart was in your throat, suddenly aware of the creepy situation ahead of you. 

The footsteps walked in front of you, tripping over the raised concrete on the sidewalk. You held back a giggle, immediately stepping off the swing set and rushing to the person. 

“Are you okay?” You said, putting your hand on the stranger’s arm while they groaned in pain. 

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Four Times | Baron Corbin

Title: Four Times (I should’ve told him I loved him)

Pairing: Baron Corbin/ Reader

Summary: I want all that is not mine. I want him but we’re not right.

Word Count: 4,670

Warning: I don’t really think this needs a warning! (feel free to correct me if I’m wrong).

Tags@calwitch | @rebelfleur22 | @xfirespritex | @blondekel77 | @abschaffer2 | @alexahood21 | @taryndibiase | @isawthesights | @swedish-strong-style | @wrasslin-rollins | @megnog | @kitkat8 | @ellothelongwaydown | @wwesensualfanficsPlease let me know if I missed anyone or if you would like to be added to the tag list.

Originally posted by baellinswithstyles

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All of You (I Want All of You) | (Part 2) | (Part 3) (Part 4)

Daryl x Reader Smut Warning! 18+ Only! NSFW

A/N: This was a request, hope I get it right. :) My first post-negan era smut piece. Daryl is in the Sanctuary still and is approached by Negan’s daughter (Reader), she takes a liking to him and smut ensues. I didn’t get to the ‘Negan doesn’t approve’ part of the request, may have to make a second part if people like it.

—–

Y/N hated it here. All the men constantly eye fucking her and making lude jokes when he wasn’t around and all the women disgusted by her because she was his daughter. Not like you had any choice in the matter, if you had had a choice you would rather be out on your own taking your chances with the dead. You claw a little at your bedroom window, high above the sanctuary, staring jealously at the staggering walkers you see clawing their way toward the Sanctuary’s gate. One of your father’s men put it down immediately. You sigh in dissatisfaction and close the white lace curtain over the frame again and plop down on your bed.

I am so fucking bored. You say to yourself and begin to play absentmindedly with your hands. Suddenly your door slams open and your father makes his presence known.

“Y/N, I thought I told you I wanted to have dinner with you tonight? Get your ass over to the dining room.” Negan gruffly cried out, the vein in his neck popping from your disobedience. You roll your eyes and sit back up.

“Sorry, dad. I lost track of time.” You huff and walk out the door in front of him and head down the hallway to the small dining room his men had set up for us. You sit down at the four post wooden table and notice that the meal is already laid out for both of you, complete with placemats, utensils lined up on the right side, wine glasses, and a bowl of some sort of soup, still steaming with heat.

“What the fuck is this a five-star restaurant?” You scoff and slump down into the chair, disrespectfully.

You father sits down on the opposite side of the table, smiling to himself at the scene. His demeanor changes slightly at your words, “You’d do well to remember how good you have it Y/N.” He growled with a hint of anger.

“Oh yeah. How fucking good I have it.” You roll your eyes and begin to slurp your soup, you can taste corn, tomatoes, and green beans, as the hot liquid slides down your throat.

One of Negan’s men saunters into the room with a bottle of wine, ready to pour into both of your glasses. You allow him to fill your glass, after he pops the cork, you nod in appreciation. Alcohol was one of the only things that got your through with these assholes some days.

The man walks over to fill Negan’s glass and he looks up at the servant, covering his glass with his hand.

“Timothy, fucking tell me this is the merlot and not that fake grape shit again.” He glares at the man.

The man steps back a little, with fear in his eyes, looking again at the bottle, “Yes, sir.”

Negan removes his hand and nods, in a gesture to the man to continue. With now shaky hands the man pours Negan a glass, setting the bottle on the table.

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Negan imagines -The Blame Part 9

Originally posted by kendaspntwd

A/N: Doesn’t it feel good to be back?! I have missed this fic and I have missed The Walking Dead. I am so excited for this half of the season and so excited to see where I can take this fic :) So Happy Valentine’s day sweeties and I hope this is okay for y’all :)

Catch up here (Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)(Part 6)(Part 7)(Part 8)

Overall Summary: You’re the one who accidentally led the Saviours to the group cause Negan has an interest in you. Rick’s daughter.

In this chapter: Living with Negan has some conditions. Some conditions you’re not too happy with…

Pairing: Negan x reader, Father!Rick x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 1,622

Warnings: Explicit language, Negan being Negan, 

Your fingers circled over Negan’s chest as it rose and fell with his shallow breathing. He had his eyes closed in bliss and his arm wrapped around you. 

“Negan?” You whispered. Negan hummed in response. However before you could ask what you wanted, a knock on the door interrupted you. 

“What?!” Negan called from his bed. The door opened and in came Dwight along with two other of Negan’s men. 

“Sir. Sorry, Sir.” One of the men apologised as they had interrupted. Negan climbed from the bed and pulled on his jeans. 

“What’s so damn important you just had to interrupt when I specifically said not to?” Negan asked, he tossed you one of his shirts as he had ripped your own and then picked your panties off the floor. He threw them at you with a hearty chuckle.

“Negan.” Dwight reminded him that they had news. 

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Caffeine Challenge #15

“It’s kind of like the Hangover,” Selene observes. She’s not even breathing hard, power walking down the hall of their hotel in heels like she does this every Friday night. “You know? That move with Zack Gal–”

“Oh - my - god,” Heather pants, fingers twisted tightly in the fabric of her skirt so that it doesn’t get caught under her wedges. “Oh god, we’re in a dude movie!”

At the head of the pack, Ryan stops, spinning on her stiletto to glare. She’s the only one in a dress short enough not to have to hold it and she puts her hands on her hips.

“We are not,” she hisses, “in a dude movie. This isn’t like the Hangover because we haven’t lost her!”

Heather and Selene look at each other and then back to Ryan. They’ve been following her lead all night, respecting her place as maid of honor, but Ryan knows it’s only a matter of time before that changes.

Witches don’t particularly like playing follow the leader.

“Well,” Selene says at last, “do we know where Kim is?”

“No,” Ryan says, “but–”

“Has she responded to any of our messages?” Heather asks.

Ryan pulls her phone out of her cleavage to check her messages and winces. “Well, no, but–”

“Does anyone remember what happened this afternoon?” Selene asks.

Heather wrinkles her nose. “There was a unicorn? I think? Or a donkey with a very convincing aura.”

Selene does jazz hands. “We lost the bride and we’re in the Hangover.”

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anonymous asked:

90, andreil if u want!!!!

90: I can’t do this anymore

So I wrote about three different angsty scenarios for this prompt but then I thought - you know what, these boys have had enough hardships in their life - so this is a quick little drabble put together roughly at work today.


Andrew Minyard wasn’t Neil’s first kiss. But he was the first kiss that mattered; the first kiss that stole Neil’s breath; the first kiss Neil would risk his own safety for.

Andrew Minyard kissed like he punched - fierce, passionate, precise, powerful, hard. It was split knuckles and bitten lips, bruised skin and hungry mouths.

Andrew Minyard was a full-body kisser. Kisses were a choreographed overload of tongue, teeth and lips; fingers and hands pressing promises into scarred flesh; knees and thighs holding the weight of uttered yes’s and no’s.

Andrew Minyard tasted of cigarettes and chocolate. The bite of nicotine echoed in teeth grazing lips, soothed by a balm of sweet cocoa and wet tongue.

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Protector - Mitch Rapp Imagine

Author: dylanowhy (me)

Summary: You are one of the best hackers the world has ever heard of, but now the United States is in trouble and your head is wanted on a stick. Irene has took it upon herself to make Mitch Rapp your babysitter.

Pairings: Mitch Rapp x Reader

Warnings: Language. Angst(?)

Word Count: 3,705

A/N: I’ve wanted to do a AA series for a while now and after seeing the movie three times, that came to me in a day. There might be a few spoilers below, I tried to wait so people have been able to see it. There will be a part two from Mitch’s POV.

You sat, arms crossed as the car shook your body from side to side, you didn’t know exactly where you were going and you weren’t too keen on asking questions. You were picked up sometime last week, although it wasn’t easy. You knew how to put up a fight and used that to your advantages. “Almost there.” Irene spoke, you knew exactly who she was, just like she knew exactly who you were. Keeping tabs on each other like some jealous exes, some might find it cute. You smirked, not replying, you weren’t speaking until you knew for sure what was going on. All you knew was that you meant some level of importance to her and that was all that mattered.

The black SUV pulled up to a small cottage, somewhere by a lake, the smell of the water hitting you as you got out of the van. “What the fuck is this Irene?” You heard the voice before you saw a face, but you smiled nonetheless. In front of you was Irene looking pissed, arms folded in defense as an older man stood his ground in front of her. You recognized him as Stan Hurley and you couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself at the thought of what was going on in front of you. “I see you’ve recovered, Stan.” Irene retorted before focusing her attention on the man standing off the side behind Stan. His arms were upon his chest, body wide as he looked over what was happening in front of him. “Mitch, I’d like you to meet somebody.” Irene stepped forward, gesturing you to follow pursuit.

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Mafia pt2-Suho

Originally posted by suhocean

“You need people like me, so you can point your fucking fingers and go ‘That’s the bad guy.”

You sat in the back of the black suv that your main man was driving. You and your best fighters and shooters were on your way to do a drug deal.

“Have you heard the news, boss?” Tae, your best shooter, said to you from the front seat.

“Hm?” You questioned.

“Suho’s gang is expanding their territory west.”

Your eyes went wide, “Thats Namjoon’s territory though.”

“I know! I heard on the streets that Suho is going to make them a sub-unit to his gang.” 

You chuckled, “Namjoon would never be someone’s sub-unit.”

Namjoon didn’t have the biggest gang but we all knew that if one of us fell off, he’d be right there to claim our crown.

“I know, that’s why its shocking. We should’ve taken that territory.” Tae whined and you rolled your eyes while smiling.

Suho was a very clever man, a very strategic man. If he wasn’t in one of the most powerful gangs you’d consider dating him. 

But he is and there’s no way he’d join gangs with co-leadership, he’d want to be in control of it all. 

You got taken out of your trance as the car pulled up to the storage unit.

“You ready?” You asked your men turning to face them. 

“If they do anything sketchy.. kill them all.”You said turning back to the door and walking through it.

“Hello beautiful!” The man said, smiling at you.

You rolled your eyes and folded arms over your chest.

“You got the money?” You asked monotone. 

The man chuckled and sighed, “Well you see..-”

“He bought guns from us.” Suho said, walking out from the darkness of the background. 

Your eyes went wide as your men pulled out their guns and Suho’s gang did the same. 

The man in the middle started to sweat, Suho looked at him in disgust. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to meet up with this pretty jewel?” Suho asked the man.

“I didn..-”

Suho kicked his leg out from underneath him and he fell. 

“Were you trying to set one of us up?” Suho screamed at the man, he punched him in the face and held him up to look at what he caused.

“You see this? Huh?! She’s not going to back down and my men won’t either, you are going to start a world war.” Suho growled out, pushing the man down.

You watched silently, it shamelessly turned you on to see Suho be so dominant and aggressive. 

“Please.. please I have a wife.. she’s pregnant..” The man pleaded looking up at Suho. 

You felt disrespected, like he didn’t think you were that much of a threat, like you were weak. 

You cleared your throat, and Suho looked at you.

“Go beg for her mercy.” He demanded. 

The man crawled over to you and looked up at you and kissed your shoe.

“Please.. “

You looked down at him, he was trying to set you up. He was hoping Suho’s gang would shoot you down so he could take the money and drugs.

He thought you were weak.

You pulled the gun from the back of your pants and pulled the safety down. 

The man started to cry and hold on to your legs. 

“Don’t fucking touch her.” Suho growled out.

“Please.. my wife… my child..” He cried out again.

You cocked the gun and pointed it at the man, “I’ll make sure they’re taken care of.” you pulled the trigger.

Everything seemed to get quiet, deadly silent. 

Suho looked at you and you looked at him.

“You know, some would say this is fate.” He smirked.

“Listen, I am not going to be one of your little play things, I am not disposable after you’ve gotten your fuck. I worked my ass off to prove myself in this life and I’ll be damned if I play second to you.” You spat.

Looking around, you saw each of your men had a gun pointed at Suho’s and vise versa. 

“You could never be my second.” 

You looked at him, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’d be by my side, we control this whole city together. We’d be untouchable.” He said.

You chuckled and bit your tongue, “ So you just want me as a business partner?”

“I want you to be mine.” 

You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, to your men. 

“Let’s go.”

You walked out the front door and heard Suho say, “You’ll be mine baby girl just wait. Every king needs his queen.”

Judith is walking briskly down the sidewalk, an abomination of a dress folded over her arm, when she sees the man about to destroy the world and the man about to save it.

People would say that Judith can see the future. She’d laugh if she heard it (to hear it, she’d have to tell them), because it’s not like that at all. She’s yet to find a future that’s come true a hundred percent no has she seen something that’s unstoppable.

They’re like threads. Hundreds and thousands of pale, fragile threads arcing out of people towards future destinations, future mistakes, future successes. Some are thicker than others but that doesn’t mean they’re more likely. Instead it means that there’ll be more people involved, a party, a get together, something like that. Maybe they’ll hire ten more people at work or maybe they’ll be going to a funeral soon.

She’s gotten so used to the spiderweb of futures she sees, she barely registers them anymore. She just walks down the street registering baby shower, shoe repair, flat tire, anniversary, trips on way to school, breaks a dish, etc.

She’s doing that today, in fact, right now in the present. She’s going dress shopping for her sister’s wedding (not the bridesmaid, she dodged that one). The colors are grey and silver and hardly any shop sells a dress like that so she’s had to go into the city.

Judith is walking briskly down the sidewalk, an abomination of a dress folded over her arm, when she sees the man about to destroy the world and the man about to save it.

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Muse - “Something Sweet”

hi guys!!! this is gonna be a new series i’m starting ( if you’re into it )

what??? a lin fic with an in the heights reference for the title?? groundbreaking am i right

i’ve never written before (wish me luck) and I know i’m very very very very new here but please gimme a moment of ur time and we can see how things go !!

summary: all nighters take a toll on everyone, but who knows? maybe a cup of cheap coffee really can fix everything

word count: 1186

warnings: if you think a cute & stuttering young lin is gonna make ur heart feel too big for your rib cage then maybe this isn’t 4 u? also if you hate dumb grins, you should see urself out

Keep reading

title Kiss kiss
summary Fill in the blanks, stupid.
pairing Itasaku

Part i (here) | Part ii | Part iii | Part iv | Part v | Part vi | Part vii | Part viii | Part ix | Part x | Part xi | Part xii | Part xiii | Part xiv | Part xv | Part xvi | Part xvii | Part xviii

“Welcome! Four people?” 

“Yeah. Not really here for that. Need to talk to the person in charge here,” a gruff voice replied. 

“Okay. Hold on one moment please,” a girl giggled in return.

Sakura pulled a fresh cigarette out of the box. She listened to the footsteps tap upstairs, up to her office door. Four knocks. Quick. Nervous. 

She lit her cigarette.

“Come in,” she called. The door burst open.

“Mama, there are some suspicious people here!” Moegi huffed and puffed. 

“I heard Kansai-ben. They sounded a little rough,” Sakura agreed. Sighing, she rose from her chair. She shed her sweater and stepped into the pair of high heels waiting at the door. Moegi fidgeted, her eyes darting back and forth.

“Are you really going to be okay, Mama? Are you in trouble?” she fretted. Smiling, Sakura plucked her cigarette from her mouth. She snubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray. With her free hand, she squeezed Moegi’s cheeks together.

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I Think I Wanna Marry You (Part 8)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Wordcount: 2.9k

Read the previous parts here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 , 6 , 7

Warnings: swearing, drunken angels (because who doesn’t love those)

Tagging:  @julibelen​ , @ilostmyshoe-79​ , @scamanders26newtcase​ , @g-c-falorraquideo​ , @the-rain-pours-down , @explorersinwonderland​ , @babyblues915​ ,  @rizlowwritessortof@adoringjensen​ , @peaceloveandplumbots, @quixoticcat, @skymoonandstardust, @girliciousdreams, @captainbitchslap, @awkward–jay, @fandomlover03@daesunglg , @shamelesslydean, @casually-dying-rn, @destinyesser​,


Song: Bruno Mars - Marry You (Cover by The United)

[…well it’s a beautiful night, we looking for something dumb to do

Hey, baby, I think I wanna marry you…]

                                                        ~*~*~


The reception marks the end of their successful week. Not just for Dean and Y/N, basking in their successful fraudulence at the bar, but for Y/N’s family, for her sister, a beautiful bride and even more beautiful wife who emanates joy the entire evening. In the ambient garden, they are all victorious, all celebrating by dancing and singing. Dean joins the dance because he’s no killjoy, he may be in a conflicting state of mind, but he’s here to have fun. Liquor sloshes in glasses, spills onto fine fabrics and cloths, is ignored—right now, that’s the last thing anyone would be thinking about. They celebrate and laugh. Turn the music up. Dance—by God, they dance, the two of them.


Dean and his friend, his giggly, clumsy friend, his grinning friend who at the moment has no sense of personal space. Not that he minds. Y/N’s hands slithering up his chest and caressing his arms only fuels the fire in his belly, and soon enough he forgets why he was even feeling glum to begin with. She is the Y/N whom he knows and loves, his Y/N, infinitely.


“To us and our success.” She declares with the raise of her glass. Dean mirrors her, lifting his drink. “We’re such BAMFS.”


“To the BAMFS.”

They toast and he downs his drinks twice as fast as she does, finishing it in three gulps. Dragging a hand across his mouth, he wipes away the remnants of cherry wine in his stubble, but his smile is irrefutable.


Sam scrunches his nose up from the pungent burn. “God, that is vile.”


“Want me to help you out?” Castiel then reaches across the bar and tries to take the glass, but Y/N stops him.


“No way,” She admonishes as the angel frowns. “Cas, I think you’ve had enough.”


“Angels can’t get drunk, Y/N.”


“Then explain why you’re talking to the tiki torch instead of me.” She counters with a smug grin and laughter erupts as Cas, bashful, quickly tips his head and looks down into his glass. Clapping him on the shoulder, Sam laughs then stands.


“Well, if you guys will excuse me,” He looks at Y/N and Dean, “I’m gonna head to the dance floor.”

“Who’s gonna watch Cas?”

“I don’t mind.” Dean pipes up absently, swallowing the last drops of his drink. He hisses at the bitterness. Not strong enough to get him drunk (yet), but intense nonetheless.


Y/N eyes him curiously. “Sure?”


“Why not? You two go have fun.” He waves her off and straightens out, bumping a few burps out of his chest. “I’ll join you later.” He insists.


And with twin smiles, the pair nod then disappear into the crowd. The elder Winchester watches them go with an absent-minded smile, elbow rested on the bar top. Caught in a daze, his focus is grasped when he hears the low grumble of his friend and looks to him.


Hunched over, Cas groans out, “I’m never drinking again.”


Dean can only laugh. Then he goes back to nursing a rum and coke and watching the crowd sway to the music.


He watches Y/N. As the song blares on she moves to the beat with Sam, laughing at how languidly he moves to such a fast-paced song. The elder Winchester finds himself chuckling, too (because it’s drunk Sam and who doesn’t love drunk Sam?) and then leaning further back in his seat to observe.


Then, when the tempo slows, he sees Rick approaching. Smiling like always. Red faced, probably from drinking. He doesn’t remember seeing him with a glass?


“Is he seriously gonna ask her to dance?” Dean scoffs. Cas only grumbles. The elder Winchester’s gaze flits to his flaccid friend, death-glare in place and then he rolls his eyes and returns them to his former focus—and no surprise, they’ve started dancing.


“God, look at him. Piece of shit.”


“This coming from the man who hates the guy for no reason. Get over yourself, Dean.”


“Excuse me?” He turns to Cas almost instantly, brow creased as the angel pushes himself up. His head is throbbing and he grips it and groans, expression twisted.



“I said get over yourself. Rick has as much right to dance with Y/N as you do—or are you forgetting that the two of you aren’t actually dating?”


“Shut it, feathers.”


Castiel shrugs then holds his hands out in surrender. Dean bites his cheek, but this time he does not look back. He doesn’t want to. The grimness of the afternoon has returned and made his chest its warm home. Despondent, he weakly glances at Castiel.


“Cas?”


“Hm?”


“I’m an idiot, aren’t I? For not…for, well—Rick and Y/N.”


A caustic laugh escapes him at that. “It’s good you’ve realized. The only thing differentiating you—“he pokes Dean’s chest, then points to the crowd, “—from him, is that he’s got the courage to act on his feelings. That’s your problem, Dean. Yours and Y/N’s—you’re both huge cowards. Waiting for the other to make the first move.”


Dean silently watches him. The angel’s words dig into him. Carve themselves onto the walls of his heart, poison his blood. They’re in his system and he isn’t sure if he enjoys the brutality of their truth.


“I love her.” His tone is earnest and true. These words are just as brutal, just as honest.


He lifts his eyes from the floor to Cas, who only scoffs, before throwing back a shot of tequila.


“Yeah” He coughs, tone sardonic.  “And fucking water is wet. Don’t tell me. There is an enthralling woman waiting for you on that dance floor who would be much more delighted to hear that.”


And those words are just as true.


Watching his friend, a fondness crawls its way out of the elder Winchester’s belly. Drunk Cas, much like drunk Sam, is more than amusing. The only difference between the angel and his brother, though, is that Castiel manages to retain all his wisdom even in an intoxicated state, remains Castiel, an angel of the Lord who—on most occasions—is the voice of reason in Dean’s head.


And now is no different.


There is an upward curve to his mouth as the elder Winchester nods approvingly. “Wow. Who knew you become Yoda when you’re drunk.”


“I’m yoda even when I’m sober.” The angel assures somberly. Dean can’t help but laugh. He stands, claps a hand on his friend’s shoulder.


“Sure thing buddy.” He says. Then his eyes soften. “Thanks, anyway. You’re right.”


“I know.”


“You gonna be okay on your own here? I know I can’t trust you to stay away from the drinks…”


“I’ll be fine.”


“He’s cut off, yeah?” Dean points at the bartender, a young man with shaggy blond hair who laughs and nods, and then just like that he turns around and makes his way to the dancing crowd.


Sweaty bodies form a barricade between him and his target, pull at him, urge him to dance. Dean smiles politely and shuffles through, the air thick with the scent of sweat and various perfumes. It’s dizzying. He inches closer and closer as he tames his inner turmoil. It’s now or never.


Y/N, finally but a few inches away, throws her head back in rapture and bounces to the beat of the song. So disoriented and dislodged that it’s almost humorous. So Y/N. She doesn’t notice him come up until he taps her on the shoulder and she whips around.


Her chest stutters with heavy breaths, as a smile forms. “What are you doing here?”


“Mind if I cut in?” The question isn’t directed at her, no—he’s asking Rick.


Sweaty, bewildered Rick. Perfect Rick. Even drenched in his own perspiration and with three buttons undone he looks faultless. And that, Dean has come to learn, is okay. Rick is okay. He’s good, from what he’s seen these past days, and it’s time the strife between them melts away.


With apologetic eyes, the elder Winchester stares at the dark-haired man who tips his head back defiantly.


“Do I really have a choice?”


Inhaling deeply, Dean looks to Y/N. “Would you give us a minute?” He asks. Reluctant, she shrugs, smiles sadly and then bounces over to where Emma and Aunt Steph are dancing


His focus returns to the man before him. Dean breathes in once more. This isn’t the hard part of the evening. The hard part hasn’t even yet begun.


“Look, Rick, I owe you an apology…”


“Do you? Huh. That’s hard to believe.”


“Could you just listen?” He asks almost impatiently.


The brown eyed man folds his arms over his chest. Dean swallows.


“I’m sorry. Really. I’m sorry that for the past few days I’ve acted like a huge prick when you’ve been nothing but polite and respectful. It was…stupid of me…really stupid. You’re nothing like the guy I’ve been making you out to be in my head. You’re a good kid. You deserve to be treated like one.” Dean watches him, the heaviness in his chest melting away. Replaced by relief. Replaced by triumph. He feels a swell of calm when he sees the corners of Rick’s mouth curve up in a fond smile.


His tone is truthful as he nods. “Thank you for that. I forgive you.”


“Not pulling my leg?” Dean almost smiles as he turns his head just a little, tone ribbing.


“I wish I was.” Rick laughs. “I really want to hate you, think you’re a dick—was doing that pretty well up until a few minutes ago.” They both chuckle. The moment is brief, a flash of a second, but it’s a testament to the atonement.


“But even then,” He goes on, “I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that the guy Y/N was crazy about was actually an ass.”


“Well, I have my moments.”


“We all do, don’t we? No, you’re a good guy, too, Dean. I know that just from seeing how much she adores you.”


With a fond smile Rick’s eyes then slowly move to Y/N behind Dean. The elder Winchester glances over his shoulder, finding her dancing, laughing. Happy. When he looks back, he flashes the elder Winchester  a furtive smile, salutes and then vanishes into the crowd.


He watches him leave, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips when suddenly there’s a tug on his wrist. Dean whips around.


Smiling up at him, Y/n looks at the retreating man then her friend. “Everything okay?”


“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”


“Do you wanna dance?”


It isn’t until she asks that Dean notices the shift in the music’s tempo, the steady strum of a guitar and the way everyone’s movements slow. People pair up. A calmness floats over the scene and even Sam, smiling down at a redhead he’d seen him with earlier, moves in and begins to sway with her.


The elder Winchester’s breath catches in his throat. He looks down at Y/N, licks his lips, and can’t help the unsure smiles that forces its way onto his face.


He nods.


Takes her hand. Leads her into position, calloused hands resting on her waist as she winds hers around his neck. They move to the beat of the music. Languid. Lazed. The world around them seems to blur, nothing but them and them and them…


No one else matters. No one needs to other than Y/N, a smile rested on her gentle features as she looks up at him and God, Dean wants to say it, he has to.


“You’re a good dancer.” He says idly, smiling at her.


“I wish I could say the same about you.”


“Oh, shut up…”


Bowing her head, she laughs then meets his gaze again. “I’m kidding. You’re actually better than I thought you’d be.”

“Is that so?”

Dean’s heart grows warmer and warmer by the second. He watches her, feels her blood run under her fingers, notices the way her skin buzzes beneath his touch and hopes it’s not just the alcohol taking its toll.


“We did it.” He says.

The space between them gets thinner and thinner and Y/N wordlessly nods as she leans in closer, the elder Winchester feeling his blood pulse. A familiar thrill courses through him like a vice, like anxiety bubbling in the pit of his belly, like heat flooding his face.


He plants his soles firmly into the ground and restrains himself. It’s a battle, but he has been a fighter since he started to walk, and he is no stranger to the pain of it all.


“Yeah.” Shaking her head with disbelief, she lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, we did it.”


“Who would have thought, huh? I mean, not that I’m saying I was doubting the plan—“


“It’s okay, I was, too.”


“I wasn’t. I….” He opens his mouth, shuts it, tries again. “I knew we could pull it off, you know…? We always make a good team, the two of us.”


An inch away, Y/N yields and stops moving closer. “Yeah….yeah, we do, don’t we? And we always will.”


This is it. Moment of truth, esteemed and anticipated and nerve-wracking. The elder Winchester swallows, tries not to get lost in her eyes.


“Look, Y/N I…I have something to tell you. I don’t know what it’s gonna be like after or if telling it to you is the right thing to do but at this point, I don’t care. I don’t, I….” Mustering the courage, he takes this as his chance, gulping thickly. The words are there, right there. In his throat. Stuck. Forcing them out is tedious and suffocating, like they’re cutting off the air supply to his lungs.


The elder Winchester licks his lips. Y/N. His.


“I love you, Y/N.” he all but whispers…


And she doesn’t move.


Something flickers in her eyes, a recognition, an acknowledgement. He is no fool to miss it. Even the blink of an eye at this stage, at this fleeting moment, is crucial. He’s got the ball rolling now. Licking his lips, he goes on as his emotions begin to boil, to bubble rapidly like stew in a cauldron.


“I do. Terribly. For the longest time now but I only just realized it this week, and—well, you can imagine how stupid I felt because it’s been right there in front of me all this time. Only I was too big of an idiot to realize that. I love you, Y/N. I love you.”


“You…?”


“Love you.”


Love. He loves her. There. He’s said it. Felt it, proclaimed it. What matters now doesn’t matter as much; as long as the elder Winchester has purged himself of the emotions that have been poisoning him for the past few weeks.


Out in the open the words do not seem as frightening as they did in his head. They are mere words, he realizes. Amplified by his mind, little creatures hyperbolized into bloodthirsty beasts—the extortion is dissipating, Dean can feel it. He can feel the weight on his heart lessen. Can feel his lungs regain their function. His body is no longer a home to this toxin.


Love.


As he watches her the silence hanging between them turns sour and his heart wrenches. Stunned in silence, she gapes at him, the melody of the music dancing around them unaffected. Everybody else is; all celebrating and cheering and ignorant to what, to Dean, feels like the earth splitting in half beneath his feet.


“Y/N, I—“


“You….love me?”


He nods silently. Her brow furrows and she licks her lips. “Dean, I….”


But he doesn’t let her finish.


It happens in the flash of a second. So rapid, so spontaneous that even he is caught off guard but the feeling of her warm mouth on his is enough to reel him back in.


Y/N stills under his touch. Her heart stutters. Soars. His grip on her grows firmer as his lips dance against hers, idly moving to the music as they formerly were, tasting, taunting, drawing something out from her belly that feels like fire. Pressing herself closer to him, her arms tighten around his neck, desperate to have him closer.


But Dean does not rush.


His kiss is tentative and indolent and it feels like a million stars are settling on her skin/ His hand moves to cup her face, tilting it back slightly, and Y/N’s mind fogs.


Them and them and them….


Only. Always.


When he pulls back, their faces not even an inch apart, he swears he hears cheers ringing out. Laughter. Sam’s voice hidden in there, somewhere. Dean ignores it, all of it, and instead focuses on Y/N.


With half lidded eyes, he looks down at her.


“I love you…” He shakes his head.


A smile cracks through her face and he notices the tears welling in her eyes. Finally. Finally.


“I love you, too.”


“I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. I should have, but I was a fucking coward and I thought….”


“That I wouldn’t feel the same?” She supplements with a smile.


He nods. Chuckles. “I’m guessing you thought the same thing, huh?”


“More than you know. Guess we’re both idiots then.” Y/N says. Her hands slide to his face, resting on either side, the stubble rubbing against her soft palms.


“You and I will always make a good team.”


“Always?”


“Always, and forever—till death do us part, Winchester.”


And Dean can see it in her eyes, in the way she laces her hand with his and holds it over her heart that this is a promise, an unspoken oath that sits, without a doubt, on a cosmic level.


And that is enough of a hint for him.

                                                   ~*~*~*~

Aaaahhh it’s finally done !!

This series has probably been one of my longest but most full filling stories to write, so I’d like to give a big thank you for those who stuck around from the start. It’s been quite the ride, and hopefully you enjoyed. I’ll probably create a masterlist for this entire series, but if not, you can always find the entire thing in my regular *Masterlist*

(ALSO, since this is out of the way I’ve decided to open up requests so ayyee)

Thank you once again for reading! IF you liked this or would like to see more of my writing, go ahead and show show some love! Likes, reblogs and follows are always a pick me up :)

I don’t get jealous

(A/N): Fuck me up with possessive Bucky

Request:  💕 💕 jealous!bucky where your ex-fiancee comes back and you have to work w/ him and bucky becomes real protective 💕 💕

Warnings: some swearing, creepy ex


Originally posted by deniz-is-a-witch

    “Oh god,” You whisper as that all too familiar man walks into your office. “Oh god no,” You’d recognize that sneer and glinting eyes anywhere, that was your ex. And not just any old ex, this was your ex- fiancee. You gulp as he walks down the aisles with pride in his step, obviously very pleased with himself for being able to worm his way through S.H.I.E.L.D. You turn your head away as he walks by, hoping he didn’t catch a glimpse of your face and for a minute you actually had hope that it worked. He continued to walk down aisles, his steps getting further and further away before they suddenly stop as does your heart. The footsteps come back your way and your heart begins to beat within your chest, god please let him pass you, please let him pass you.

   “(Y/N), is that you?” His voice had you nearly cringing, the greasy tony brought back some not so nice memories. Despite this you turn to look at him with a forced smile, trying your best not to look as annoyed as you were. 

   “Yep,” You chuckle, “It’s me,” 

   “Oh my god,” He smiles, showcasing his teeth. “I haven’t seen you in ages,” Yeah, that was kinda the point dipshit. “This is crazy!” You smile a little wider, causing you to feel like your skin may crack at the force. 

   “Yeah, right,” 

   “So uh- uh what’re you doing here?” You suppress a groan at this longer than needed conversation instead deciding upon smiling more and answering the question. 

   “I’m a field agent, sometimes I work alongside the Avengers-” At this his eyes widen and his jaw nearly drops. 

   “You work with the Avengers? That’s so cool!” You merely nod, hoping this conversation would end soon. “So does this mean you’ve met Tony Stark? Oh my god, have you met Captain America?” 

   “Haha, yep, I sure have,” The man sighs, folding his arms over his chest as he stares at you in a less than comfortable fashion. 

   “That is incredible (Y/N),” You only nod, hoping your face didn’t portray just how uncomfortable you were getting. The stupid man was just about to open his mouth again when the doors to the room open once again and this time the person who walks in is far more pleasant than the man before you. 

   “Bucky,” You sigh out as your present fiancee walks in the room, his other half not far behind. Bucky and Steve seemed to be engaged in quite the conversation when Bucky turns to look at you, smiling softly as his gaze connects to yours.

   You want to jump from your seat and run to his side, grab him and hold him like your life depended on it but you can’t, not with Mr. Sleazy standing right beside you. So instead you wait until Bucky waves goodbye to Steve and begins to make his way over to you to get up and excuse yourself momentarily. 

   “Sorry,” You give the man a tight lipped smile as you stand, dusting your suit off before standing a bit taller. “I’ll be right back,” You walk past him and instead to Bucky, your Bucky. 

  You nearly sigh in relief when Bucky opens his arms up, inviting you into his embrace. You gladly accept, wrapping your arms around his waist and nuzzling into his chest. 

   “Hey doll,” Bucky’s chest rumbles, soft and comforting against you. 

   “Hey,” You breathe out, just happy to be back by his side, rather than that creepy man’s. 

   “Who’s the creep lingering by your desk?” Bucky’s voice is no louder than a whisper, not wishing anyone to hear what you guys were saying. 

   “Remember that asshole boyfriend I told you about?” Bucky’s grip on you tightens at your words, just enough to give you a soft squeeze before it relaxes. 

   “Yes,” Bucky’s jaw is clenches and his words are now a hiss as he glowers at the man by your desk. 

   “Guess who’s working with us now?” 

   “Not that creep right?” 

   “Unfortunately yes,” Bucky growls softly as he pulls you against him a little tighter, making sure to keep you blocked from the man’s line of sight. 

   “Has he tried anything-” 

  “No Bucky,” You smile softly against the ex assassin. “He hasn’t tried anything…not yet at least,” You knew your words were only going to spurr Bucky’s little jealousy fit and you could definitely tell when he growled once again, pulling you even closer to his chest. “Buck-” You gently pat his back, “I’m just joking, he’s not going to try anything, I made it very clear we were over and that I didn’t want anything to do with him,” 

   “Well he’s here and he’s talking to you,” 

   “He works here Buck, we’re just gonna have to live with that,” Bucky sighs softly, albeit unhappily. 

   “If he tries anything you tell me, okay?” He tilts your head up at his words, his thumb and pointer finger clutching your chin gently. His blue eyes are boring into yours and his face is etched with concern (and jealousy). You find yourself smiling at the literally man puppy holding you before you lean in, pressing your lips to his briefly before pulling away, much to Bucky’s dismay. 

   “You got it Sarge,” Bucky smiles, his eyes crinkling softly at the nickname you’d given him. 

   You go to pull away, intending to go back to your seat and work when Bucky pulls you back against him, causing you to squeak in surprise. 

   “One more kiss?” Bucky asks softly as he gives a damn good pair of puppy dog eyes. You roll your eyes, feigning annoyance but you couldn’t even deny how much you loved it when Bucky asked for kisses. You lean in, pressing your lips against his once more, only intending for it to be an innocent kiss but as Bucky began to nibble on your bottom lip you realized he wanted more. 

   “Bucky,” You warn against his lips, after all, you were at work and you were sure Fury would kill you both if he caught the two of you displaying anymore public affection. 

   “(Y/N),” Bucky replies cooly as once again leans in to claim your lips as his own. You can only smile against him, making it nearly impossible to keep up the kissing. Eventually Bucky gives in, succumbing to a smile as well. “Think I made my point?” Bucky murmurs against your lips, just allowing himself that small amount of teasing pleasure. 

   “What point?” You murmur back, genuinely confused. Bucky smiles as he nuzzles his forehead against your own, looking just about as smug as could be. 

    “Think that loser over there knows you’re mine?” You peek over Bucky’s shoulder to see your ex-fiancee looking anywhere but the two of you, obviously very uncomfortable.  

   “I think everyone knows I’m yours you nerd,” Bucky smiles wider, causing his nose to scrunch up in the cutest way. “You know I love you right?” You ask a bit softer, just enough so that only Bucky could hear you. Bucky smiles as he wraps his arms around your waist a bit more snugly, nuzzling his scruffy face into the crook of your neck as he does so. 

   “I love you too,” 

   “Hey!” The doors open and in walks Fury, damn near seething at the sudden display of affection. “What’d I tell you motherfuckers the last time I caught you?” 

Battle of the Century // Jeon Jungkook

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the prompt: this might sound silly but can u do a Jungkook x reader where they have their first argument but its about something dumb ((like maybe they were having a movie night so they watched civil war n jungkook is obviously iron man but the reader is team captain america))

words: 428

category: blurb + comedy

author note: i made both jungkook and the reader overdramatic babies so i hope you don’t mind. i also made this rlly short sorry sorry.

- destinee

Originally posted by jengkook

Keep reading

Number One - Seungkwan scenario

Request: Svt beg you to tell them which member do you find the most attractive, you tell them it’s Seungkwan and he’s very shocked.

Word Count: 902

A/N: Ah, anonie I hope you and everyone else like it!! I’m sorry it was a bit sad at first ㅠㅠ I kinda felt bad about that OFD episode wherein Seungkwan’s last in visuals plus people who don’t appreciate Boo’s visuals and talents because boy is he gifted (@my friends and some carats I see online). Ps: HOW DO YOU INSERT A BLOCKQUOTE ON THE TUMBLR APP IT DOESN’T LET ME HTML CODE MY WAY OUTTA THIS ANYMORE ASFGHKLL I’m a retard -Clar

Originally posted by hanwooz

“Hey thirteenth!”

Everytime Seungkwan heard that nickname you could see deep creases in between his brows and a frown on his face, ignoring whoever was calling him. You had to admit, he had the right to. It wasn’t exactly the best nickname you’d give to a person to constantly remind them that they were ranked last in looks out of twelve other men. Seungkwan had his pride too.

“Seungkwan?” Soonyoung called him once more, but still no response. He’d continue calling him until Seungkwan snaps at him, “what do you want?” His sudden outburst startled the older member, leaving him at a loss for words. You ran after him, asking him what was wrong. He ran to his room, locked the door and screamed at you from behind it, “you won’t understand (y/n).”

When you came back Soonyoung asked you what was going on with Seungkwan. You shrugged, it came to the two of you so suddenly you didn’t know what made him so angry. He was the type of guy that laughs everything off as if it didn’t bother him at all.


Even if it did.

Bottling up emotions isn’t always good, you have limits. Seungkwan couldn’t stand it anymore. He thought it would stop as time went on, but it stuck to him. “Hey thirteenth!” the constant reminder of him ranking last in visuals out of everyone else haunted him. He was insecure enough as it is with every other member so talented and handsome. He felt like he needed to make a place for himself too, but everything else was just bringing him down. Will he ever be good enough? Everyone was just better in things that can’t be changed; height, looks, and talent. What could he do?

“Say, (y/n),” Soonyoung’s eyes flickered with curiosity, “what would your rankings be?” A few members overheard and joined in on the conversation, agreeing with Hoshi’s question. “What do you mean?” you stuttered, averting your eyes from any of them. You just didn’t want to answer at a time like this. Seungkwan was still upset and you didn’t know why. “Come on, you know what we’re talking about,” Seokmin whined, “it wouldn’t hurt to tell us.” It went on until you finally gave in. All of them gave you big grins and rushed to gather the other members.

They dragged Jisoo, Chan, and Seungcheol away from their cup ramen, they woke Jeonghan up, and they broke into Seungkwan’s room to drag him into the living room against his will. The energetic duo made everyone stand in a single line, “ta-da!” they exclaimed. God knows why they were so excited about this. You sighed, eyes drifting towards the frowning man at the end of the line, furrowing his brows and folding his arms. “Can I start with last place?” your question was immediately rejected and you asked if you could start with the second to the last place instead.

They liked the idea and you began ranking them. Some agreed, and some didn’t. Only two spots remained, first and last place. Soonyoung and Seungkwan were the only ones left and the former one was pretty confident about his victory over the other. The blue haired boy stood tall, smiling with pride. “Seungkwan,” you mumbled, approaching the boy. He met you with widened eyes, somewhat upset and confused, “aren’t you supposed to pick who your number one is?”

You smiled at him warmly, “silly, you’re my number one.”

He suddenly laughed. The mocking tone he had as he looked at you dead in the eye, asking, “this is a joke, isn’t it?”

“Don’t joke about things like this,” he growled.

His arms folded and he shifted his weight to another foot, still maintaining intense eye contact, “did you do this to laugh at me? Because I’m not going to believe this.” He eyed every other member in the room, “who thought of doing this, huh? Stop making fun of me.”

Everyone turned silent as Seungkwan continued talking with blind, hating rage. His words felt directed toward you, it was you who chose him as first place after all. Tears welled up in your eyes and you apologized to him, “I meant it Seungkwan. I’m sorry I made fun of you.”

He turned and looked at you with his eyes still held fierce gazes. His features slowly softened and his frowned turned into a small pout as he whispered in a weak voice, “really?” You only nod with an embarrassed smile. His eyes were very wide, in contrast to the eyes earlier, that squinted at you with contempt and anger. His jaw dropped and his features brightened, “really really really really?” He laughed in delight; he could not believe it. Pure joy rushed thoughout his body, tingles went up and down his spine and he couldn’t stop smiling.


The diets, the endless vocal practices, and the efforts he made to stand out in shows; all fruitless efforts that made him strive to push his limits. All this time he struggled and struggled to become someone he wasn’t, but then you came along telling him he was just perfect the way he is. He could no longer hold in everything and just brush it off; tears slid down his cheeks and he gave you the warmest smile in the world. He softly called out your name and pulled you into a big hug.

“Thank you.”