move with caution

Based on this prompt! (This prompt really went places, lol)

Keith was a little shocked to say the least. He hadn’t expected Lance to say yes to sparring together when he asked at breakfast, but Lance had seemed almost flattered when Keith asked.

The two were now walking towards the training deck, and Keith was absently chattering about a new swing kick he perfected when a loud thud interrupted his words.

He craned his neck to glance over his shoulder and found Lance lying flat on his back with his eyes closed. Cursing under his breath, Keith closed the short distance between the two and dropped to his knees beside Lance.

Lance’s face was scrunched up, clearly visually showing pain, but, Keith thought, pain from where? There was a thin sheen of sweat coating Lance’s forehead, and Keith hesitantly pressed his palm to it, stomach dropping at the heat coating his palm.

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The Archetypes in Action.

Whether in Film or Literature.

Aries- That character that can’t wait to go on an adventure, even though everyone else tells them to move with caution. The one that pushes people, for good or for bad. Hot headed, protective and spirited. One of the first to fight through dangerous situations. 

Taurus- The character that wants a simple life, only for some kind of chaos to ensue completely out of their control. They make reserved company, only for strength and stamina to arrive when they really need it. Sensible and dry humoured. Admires physical delights, materialistic.

Gemini- The trickster character, changeable and witty, always ready to trip people up, prince or pauper. They will be the mischievous one, the one with sparkly eyes and a way of looking at life with much curiosity. Intelligent and communicative. 

Cancer- The character that nurtures the others around them, that provides support, yet will also react strongly to the events that take place. Intuitive and receptive to others, they will make strong bonds in even the most unlikely of circumstances. 

Leo- A just leader, yet with underlying egoism, Leo would be the loyal and brave character with assertion yet warmth. They could have a bit of a hero complex, but would be committed to protecting the vulnerable. Theatrical and humerous. 

Virgo- A cautious character, worrying about the health and well being of the ones around them. They would also be a brainiac of the group, seeing logic and patterns that many would miss. Yet this all partakes with grace and sensible qualities. 

Libra- A character wonderful at calming tense situations and arguments, exceptionally talented at bringing a sense of ease into the mix. They are diplomatic, charming, and are able to make themselves a match to many people. The primped one or the dandy. 

Scorpio- An enigma character, someone that is not easy to get a grasp of when first meeting them. They may turn out completely different later in the story, yet throughout, they are talented at dispelling situations. They have emotional intelligence and raw expression. 

Sagittarius- Wonderful with humour and adventure with a certain lightness radiating from them. Recklessness and irresponsible qualities may follow, yet they always manage to make you fond of them despite this. Like Gemini, they may take on the role of the trickster. 

Capricorn- The character with the solid plan, the support system for many of the other characters, also the one to be relied on. There is wisdom, maturity, dry wit and lessons that come with this character, yet also an old soul and melancholic expression. 

Aquarius- The rebellious character, often doing exactly what they have been told not to. They are cerebral, intelligent and eccentric, often adoring shaking things up, especially archaic qualities and systems. May come across as somewhat anarchic and insensitive. 

Pisces- The character that seems somewhere else entirely, yet is also infused with wisdom. They are likely compassionate and sensitive, yet may get forced into unfortunate situations due to rose tinted glasses. If they were one of the seven dwarfs, they would be sleepy. 

Robb x Female Reader

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Imagine falling in love with Robb after healing him and having his baby.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

\ Request for anonymous /

Hey could you do a Robb stark one shot where your a healer and when you help him recover from a wound, you fall in love have sex and you end up being pregnant?

♡ ♡ ♡ Warning: LIGHT SMUT ♡ ♡ ♡

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Characters:  Dean x Reader

Summary:  Dean and reader try to define what it means to be a hero.

A/N:  This is for Ana’s ( @percywinchester27 ) ‘s PJO Quotes Challenge.  My Percy Jackson prompt was “Being a hero doesn’t mean you’re invincible. It just means you’re brave enough to stand up and do what’s needed.”

Word Count: 1326

Warnings:  Flangst-ish

Originally posted by daengerously-intaense


The windows rattle as Dean slams the door of the motel room. Adrenaline pumps through him, a potent and explosive mix of rage and fear. Stalking across the room, he clenches his fists at his sides, feeling desperately helpless. Kicking the foot of the bed does nothing to dispel all this toxic energy. He needs to hit something really hard.  

Tentatively, you open the door and poke your head into the room, looking remorseful. The expression on his face sets a chaotic mass of emotion swirling within you. You feel terrible, but you also know that you did what you had to do.

“How could you?” he whispers.

“I - I didn’t think, Dean,” you say softly, stepping into the room and closing the door. “I just…reacted.”

“It was careless, you could have died!” his voice trembles. You can feel the vulnerability in his despair. It’s a foreign feeling to both of you, it’s strange and uncomfortable and fascinating. “(Y/N), being a hero doesn’t mean you’re invincible.”

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The Rise of Wilford Warfstache Chapter One

In all of my years as a psychiatrist, I had never seen such a broken man. His head seemed to twist as he sat restless in the chair of my office. Through his rose colored glasses, he seemed to view the world around him as a falacy. Though he smiled, I sensed the pain growing inside of him as reality desperately scratched from within. Whatever had happened to him that night, it had truly shattered who he once was.
I’d read about him in the papers before. Despite the media uproar about the accidental shooting of a fellow hunter during a safari, the man seemed to have had a steel shield against the criticism. Of course, that man had been injured, not killed. The question of whether or not Warfstache had actually murdered Mark Fischbach is still yet to be uncovered. I agreed, though reluctantly, to work alongside the CPD while they investigated the murder. As far as I knew, nothing else has been uncovered. The manor was locked up tighter than a drum, no one allowed in or out.
In fact, as far as I was aware at that time, everyone involved had gone missing. By the time authorities finally arrived, there wasn’t a soul on the grounds except for Warfstache. The staff had disappeared. The other guests were missing. Detective Abraham “Abe” Lincoln P.I., who was a guest the night Fischbach was killed, also disappered. The CPD had branded him as another suspect in the case because of this and have been searching for him since the day that Warfstache was brought in. From what I knew, he was another friend of Fischbach’s, and not a direct employee of the Department.
The deeper facts of the case had been locked away from me for the moment. I informed the Chief of Police as soon as I made my initial diagnosis of Warfstache that I would need to know the ins and outs in order to better help him as my patient. If HE didn’t open up about what happened, perhaps they could at least shed some light on the subject. Until that time arrived, I was in the dark.
When he first arrived…oh, I’ll never forget the laughter. It had cut through the typical sounds of a psychiatric facility like a knife through warm butter. It rang and echoed about the sterile white halls toward my office and woke me up like a bugler at a military camp. I was used to the occasional bout of insane laughter, even the horrifying screams of the insane became background static after a while, but I will never forget that laugh. As the orderlies held on tight to either of the man’s arms, he simply hung his head, shaking it back and forth, letting out a deep, belly laugh. It was as if he was having the time of his life. “It was all a joke!” he’d said. “It was just a big, guffaw!”
I peered around the corner of my office door when I heard it and watched them slowly approach with him. His hair, a tangled, black, wet mass, danced about leaving drops of sweat on the floor below him as he walked. His arms strained in the straight jacket, making the orderlies on either side of him tighten their grip every now and then while still maintaining cold, straight faces. His feet seemed to tangle with one another as he walked, as if they had forgotten how to move forward. When they reached my office, the orderlies stopped and struggled to keep him still. He shook to and fro, breathless from his laughter.
When he finally looked up at me, through the jungle of black hair I got a first glimpse at the eyes of my new patient. They were dark, but sad to me. The chocolate brown rings of his irises seemed to tear as the trauma behind them banged against them. At the same time, I could see the hope in his eyes that all of this madness was exactly what he perceived it to be: a big, sick joke. His thick, black moustache turned up hand in hand with his seemingly permanent smile. His wide grin displayed two rows of straight, well groomed, brilliantly white teeth. That smile swelled and dissipated with each deep breath he took. You’d think the man had done a mile run to get here. Pained though it was, it was such a pleasant smile. It was the smile of a broken man who only wanted everything to sort out. It was almost…pitiful to look at.
“Hello, I am Doctor Miriam Antwood.” I greeted him as pleasantly as I could. This was standard for me, I tried my best to seem a friend to my patients. Makes them more comfortable rather than having a stuffy, pompous, authoritative presence when their minds are already fragile. I left THAT to my colleague, Yousef Hillmeyer.
At my introduction, Warfstache straightened up, stifling the spasms in his chest, and gave me a curt bow.
“Colonel William Warfstache. My friends call me ‘The Colonel’, you are most welcome to do the same.”
As he spoke, his voice had a distinct vibrato. It was clear he was attempting to be polite, while also pushing down the inevitable laughing fits. After he introduced himself, he tightened his lips, though the corners jerked upward every now and again as he snorted and snuffed with the giggles.
“It’s a pleasure to make your accquaintance, Colonel.”
Of course, I was well aware of who he was before they brought him to me. I always receive empty patient files waiting to be filled whenever I do an intake. The police determine whether or not the person in particular is a candidate for psychiatric care, and once they do, they process them at the station and send their paperwork to us to be proccessed here. It’s all very by the book, standard procedure and all that.
“Do you like jokes, my dear?” Warfstache boomed, leaning forward toward me with a wink. His voice cracked, his throat clearly dry from the constant intake of breath to fuel his manic laughing fits.
“Why, yes. I enjoy a good chuckle every now and again.” I replied, smiling back at him.
Warfstache threw his head back, letting out a hearty “HAW! HAW!” that hurt my ears. Then he slowly brought his chin back down, almost to his chest, and rose a brow at me. “Well, this one’s a DOOZY of a lark!”
“I’d like to hear all about it. Please.” At this last word, I turned and held a hand out toward the chair adjacent to mine, beckoning him and the orderlies in. I crossed the room to sit and kept a watchful eye on them as they sat him down before me. One of them, the burlier of the two, gave me a knowing look that I returned as he stood behind Warfstache. The other, I dismissed. He seemed harmless enough for the time being. I allowed Phillip, the orderly who stayed behind, to remove his straight jacket. As it came off, he didn’t seem to notice at all. Instead, he gave a few soft claps and shook his head, still chortling at this supposed “joke”.
“Now, Colonel,” I began, preparing my regular lecture that I had memorized down to the very last word for new intakes.
“I don’t want you to view me as your doctor, but rather a friend you can open up to. Though, I advise you to remember that there are boundaries to this. As a man of your…considerable stature, I trust you know what I mean by this?”
In reply, he merely smiled. He neither nodded nor shook his head, but simply analyzed me as I spoke. With a nervous cough, I continued on.
“Er..My main goal here is to help you. I understand that the events of the past few days have been taxing, so I hope that nothing I ask you here will feel straining or pressuring on you. If there is anything you do not wish to talk about, we can save it for a later date. Just remember, the walls of this office are sealed tight, everything that we speak of stays within them.”
Warfstache turned slightly, side eyeing the orderly behind him. He choked on a laugh for a moment before returning his gaze to me.
“Isn’t that a funny joke lad?” He said, his voice rising and declining in volume and tone as he spoke. “It’s all a joke you know!”
The orderly raised an eyebrow at me. I held up my hand to him and addressed the concern that I sensed he was attempting to express.
“You needn’t worry about him. Phillip is a fine employee at our facility and he knows the rules. He’s merely here to see that you’re…comfortable.”
Rather than indulge me with a simple token of understanding or even a nod, Warfstache instead clenched his mouth shut, turned away, and clamped his eyes closed as he, again, fell prey to a fit of chuckles. Each one sounding like someone slapping a hot water bottle while they stayed confined to his chest.
Regardless, I carried on.
“Now…about this grizzly business at Markiplier Manor…” I moved on with caution as I noticed his eyes open and snap toward me. “Tell me, what is the joke? I would like to know what you find so hilarious. I’m quite curious.”
He turned toward me, his eyes crinkling against his wide smile.
“It’s a good one.” he practically spit, the air of his gales bursting forth as he spoke.
“Please, tell me.” I urged, hoping to at least get this little bit of talk out of the way.
“OH, it was a rousing little game. Almost like those you see at All Hallow’s Eve parties as of late. Little mystery games, you see.” His arms flew about as he spoke, dancing in the air as he made flambouyant hand gestures to match his story.
“Typically, though, EVERYONE is in on it. But my old friend, Damien, he must’ve had the bright idea to throw a bit of fun at me. Oh, that Damien, he’s been such a fine friend all these many years. It’s a might childish, but boys will be boys, you know.”
As soon as the name 'Damien’ left his lips, his seemingly happy demeanor appeared to crack. I hadn’t a clue who Damien was at that moment, but whoever it was had obviously been close to him. Perhaps he was one of the guests who had disappeared?
His smile began to falter, just slightly, but enough for me to notice. Even his eyes seemed to droop sadly as he continued on. Through his continuous laughter, I could hear his voice grow more and more pained.
“Celine…Celine as well was in on the guffaw. They must have remembered that ghastly business with the safari…decided to use old Mark’s party as the stage for a twisted little go around. I will say, the boy knows how to play dead among other things. Everyone pointed at me. 'He did it!’ they all pinned it on me. Even that other chap, can’t remember his name, decided to play dead for it all. Did a great job, I must say. Though, that fall must have hurt at least a smidge. No matter, the boy stood and walked like it was nothing but a school yard scuff!”
“What boy are you referring to?” I asked. “Another guest?”
“Oh, pardon my manners. The District Attorney, yes, he was another guest. Never met him before that night. Must’ve staged the whole thing with Damien and Celine. He was a good sport, he was. Fake blood and all. Must have used the sauce from the Chef’s dinner. It was a hoot…I daresay it could still be going on. This must be a part of it, yes?”
“I’m afraid not, Colonel. Your being sent here is far from a joke.” I assured him, but he merely scoffed at me.
“Oh come now!” he mocked. “Slapping me in cuffs, throwing on the old white coat, and dragging me off in a white van to a psychiatric facility? HAW! Old Damien must still be up to his tricks.” Suddenly, mid rant, he turned to an empty portion of the room and continued to speak as though to a different person entirely. “Do you hear that? Not a joke. I daresay, perhaps these chaps aren’t privvy to the whole matter, eh?”
“May I ask who you’re speaking to?” I inquired, but my voice seemed to go ignored.
“Bully, bully indeed! This is quite the little ruse. H-here, look!” His eyes scanned my desk at these words, and before I could process what could have been going through his mind, Warfstache lifted my letter opener from my desk and swung it around to bury it between two of Phillip’s ribs. I cried out in shock, I did not expect such a rash action.
”I can’t kill anyone! See!”
As he held the letter opener against Phillip’s side, he continued to let out howls of laughter. He pulled the blade from the poor boy and thrust it in again and again, twice before my cries alerted two other orderlies from the hall.
“It’s all fake! Look at it, you’ll see! It’s all a show!” Warfstache cried as the two orderlies who came rushing in restrained him.
“We need a tranq!” I cried, rushing around my desk to see to Phillip, who now lay in a glistening pool of crimon as it seeped from his wounds.
“I’m fine…” he said, shakily. Holding his hands to his ribs. I removed my coat and pressed it down onto the wounds. I turned to see that both orderlies and Warfstache were now on the floor. His legs kicked forward and back as he became lost in a suddenly saddening fit. I could see the roof of his mouth as his mouth remained agape with his cries. What had moments ago been fits of hilarity suddenly became mournful, gut wrenching sobs.
“WHY?” he bellowed, his voice echoing throughout my office. “WHY DID YOU DO IT, LADS? WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?”
Another orderly rushed in from the hall, a large syringe of tranquilizer in his hands. The two holding Warfstache down pushed down harder to keep him still as the needle disappeared beneath his flesh. Suddenly, his cries came to a grinding halt and his body went limp.
“Take him to his room. Make absolutely certain that there is nothing in there he can harm someone with. Keep the straight jacket on him from now on.” I ordered. Each of the orderlies nodded as they lifted his now limp, tired body from the floor. His head slumped forward onto his chest, and I could hear a slight whimper as they carried him off, his feet grinding across the floor.
The third orderly helped me get Phillip off of the floor and the both of us proceeded to take him down the hall to our infirmary.
As we exited my dark, dingy office to the bright white lights of the hallway, I turned to watch Warfstache being carted off to the elevators. His body lolled back and forth as the two men beside him struggled to maintain his now dead weight. I could almost hear a soft sob echo from him against the walls as I turned away, focusing on getting this poor man some aid. I thought then that perhaps I now knew what I was in for with him as a patient. If only I knew how wrong I had been then.

The City Psychiatric Facility for the Criminally Insane
FILE #1192012
Patient Name: Col. William “Wilford” Warfstache
Primary Psychologist: Dr. Miriam Antwood, MD
Secondary: Dr. Yousef Hillmeyer, MD
Patient Intake: Dr. Miriam Antwood, MD
First Impression Diagnosis: Patient brought in in a state of hysteria. Laughing maniacally to himself, repeating the same phrase (“It was all a joke”) over and over. Possible Borderline Personality Disorder or traumatic onset Psycopathy? Signs of late onset schizophrenia. or possibly  Talks to people who aren’t there sometimes. Refers to someone named “Damien” a lot during first conversation.
Patient was brought in after authorities scoured Markiplier Manor upon news that Mark “Markiplier” Fischbach had been murdered during a gathering with friends. Attempted to ask William about this, refused to acknowledge. Will further attempt to breech the subject as we proceed. Patient had to be subdued via tranquilizers at the end of first meeting. Attempted to stab an orderly with my letter opener shouting “Look, I can’t kill anyone! I’ll prove it.”. Sign of Antisocial Personality Disorder? Definitive sign of psycopathy. As previously stated, induced by traumatic event.
Patient was taken to room 0628.

Patient Item Inventory: One pair of glasses with attachments, one pair suspenders (red), one pair khakis (tan), one pair boots (black), one button up shirt (yellow, white collar/cuffs), one 44. magnum pistol (siezed by The City Police Department)

Initial Prognosis: Therapy sessions three times per week alongside Fluphenazine (2.5 mg to start every 6-8 hours), Lorazepam (2 mg to start 2 times per day), and Trifluoperazine (3 mg to start, 2 times per day)
These may change as patient progresses or degresses.


Author’s Note:

Hello all! Welcome to the first chapter of my Markiplier fan fiction. As you may have guessed, this is post “Who Killed Markiplier?” And this goes off of my theory of what happened. I will, to the best of my ability, keep things Canon in most areas. In others, I’m going to take some creative liberties. BUT regardless, I hope everyone enjoys :) I expect to be pretty frequent with this, if there are times that I’ll be absent I’ll be sure to let you all know. Thanks for reading!

Connections: Part 2

sorcha500 said:  Oh wow!!! Wish there’s a part 2??? 😊 – well, there just might be ;) 

Part One HERE.

“Do ye…have protection?” Jamie gasped, his knees hitting the back of the bed as he flopped onto the soft, supple mattress.

Claire ignore the soft throb that pulsed through her chest at the thought and shook her head, “we don’t need it, don’t worry.”

“A-alright,” he stammered, his eyes flitting over every inch of her as she began to untie the waistband knot of her flannel shirt. “I don’t usually—“ he started, her eyes silencing him as she let the faux-tartan patterned shirt fall to the floor with a dull thud.

“Me either, but that doesn’t matter, does it?”


“Do you want me?”

What a question, Jamie thought as she rested her hand over the partially undone metal of his flies. She was beautiful, her long curls floating around her face as she hovered over him, a halo of light beaming around the crown of her head small shards of the gentle yellow beam peaking through the breaks in her hair as she swayed above him.

She was waiting (patiently) for him to give her the okay before stripping him. Inhaling deeply, Jamie tried to banish the niggling doubt that said something was amiss. Instead he focused on the fact that he wanted her —really quite badly. And it looked as if she wanted him too. Something akin to *need* seemed to hover beneath the surface of her skin, the electricity of it flowing through her fingers and into his veins.

Claire Beauchamp was nothing if not intoxicating. And he was drunk on the fumes of her.

“Aye, Claire,” he said, finally, the breathlessness of his voice rocketing through Claire from head to toe as she pushed the small buttons through their holes, exposing his underwear as she carefully undid his trousers.

Finally bare, the pair stared at one another, an unfamiliar strangeness encasing them for just a moment. They’d met only a few hours prior, but already Claire could feel a buzz that made her slightly uncomfortable. She sat aside his hips, this skin of his legs warming her to the core. He was like a human radiator, all hard lines and heat. The short, sharp hairs that lay in sleek sheets along his thighs tickled the insides of her legs as she shifted herself higher. His hands rested gently against her hips. He was large, but not intimidating — all of him. It was his hands that swayed it. The careful way that each fingertip caressed her flesh, bringing alight sensations she hadn’t felt for years. She was alive. The flame lit beneath her skin as he waited for her to make her move.

Leaning forwards, Claire bent to kiss him. Seeing his mouth open as his head tilted up to meet her, she could she see the moist slip of his tongue. Glancing at Jamie through half closed eyelids she could almost feel an odd camaraderie.

Maybe that is what love would feel like?

The moment the ‘L’ word appeared in her mind, Claire banished it. She’d been there once before and it had very nearly broken her. She’d been young and naive, foolish to believe his lies. In the years since she’d accepted her single status - and one good looking man wasn’t going to break the vow she’d made to herself.

“Just a little fun, right?” She whispered into his mouth as she nipped his lower lip. Her teeth made small indentations in his skin and she marvelled as they plumped once more.

Jamie neglected to answer, his heart picking up pace at the intonation of Claire’s voice. He’d never been the sort to be frivolous with his affections, but if she needed to mask their brief courtship as ‘fun’, then he was willing to allow it. But Jamie wasn’t sold on it. He felt what Claire felt but was unable to truly understand. Unmarred by previous affectionate exchanges, Jamie wasn’t burdened with the same emotional turmoil as Claire.

He’d known about Frank. Geillis had, of course, spoken of her friend. Frank had been older than Claire. They had met through her uncle before he’d died - and had been a close knit friend of the family. Her uncle had worked closely with Frank and so the growing relationship quickly developed by the pair, urged on by Claire’s uncle (albeit quietly). Geillis knew Claire wished, unconsciously, for a father figure. And at a time when she’d needed that stability, Frank had reacted by his gentlemanly acquiescence of that role.

Soon though, Frank had wanted children. When *Claire* had been unable to provide them for him he had conveniently found someone who could. Jamie rolled his eyes at the thought, who blames their partner? Well, ‘partner’ in the loosest term, he quipped in his own head, if you’re going to lay *all* of the blame at only one person’s door when things start to fall apart.

He’d heard all this and more on Geillis’s bi-annual trips to balance his books. Jamie had felt a certain kinship with Claire through these stories before she’d even stepped foot into his life properly. But he wouldn’t divulge that for now.

Claire, unaware of Jamie’s internal ramblings, was enjoying the subtle tang of whisky on his tongue as they massaged one another through blissful kisses. Jamie had a good, solid grip on her arse, holding it carefully above him as they learned the curve of one another’s mouths.

Shifting his hips, Jamie tried to progress, moving so that he could manoeuvre himself over Claire, but in one swift motion she had his hands pinned above his head; his pectoral muscles stretched deliciously beneath her; his biceps lying flat against her floral sheets. “No, Jamie,” she moaned, sliding herself level with him, every inch of her lying flat over him from chest to ankles, “I’m on top -always.”

“Y-yes…” Jamie mumbled in return, unwilling to argue with her in their current state. He felt high, as if all the oxygen in the world wouldn’t be enough to sustain him. But still he kept breathing, the powerful vibration of their chests moving almost in time with one another causing his skin to ripple with goosebumps.

She took him inside her then, one quick movement that saw him thrusting his head backwards in time with his hips moving upwards. She was hot. Almost unnaturally so. And wet. Jamie felt the moisture of her coat him as her muscles held him prisoner in the most delightful way.

Claire watched through blurred vision, her mouth hanging open as she panted out uneven breaths. Jamie was glorious - in the way that men who work outside with manual equipment often were. He was well toned, but that was down to the lifting and heavy work he did on a daily basis. She kept an even eye on every twitch, every smooth slide of muscle beneath skin as he writhed beneath her.

She could hardly breathe herself, and viewing him as he struggled made her ache for him all the more.

Geillis had been right, she blearily acknowledged silently as Jamie shimmied his hands out from below hers and flipped her straight onto her back.

Claire hated feeling powerless, and the moment her spine hit the heated top sheets, she fought the urge to squirm away. Her mind was at war with her. The pleasure of Jamie surrounding her was lulling her heart into a false sense of security, but her brain rebelled forcefully against being at Jamie’s mercy in this way.

“Claire,” Jamie whispered, sensing her internal battle. Her limbs had seized in the move and he’d instantly regretted putting her in such a situation. His whole body had simply reacted without thinking but now, hovering over her as he was, he could bring her back to him - of that he was certain. “Claire, look at me lass…please.”

Pealing her eyes open, Claire gazed up at him, her heart racing with equal parts terror and lust. Jamie moved slowly now, an increased caution that brought her pulse back down to a more normal level and quashed her fear of drowning. “I said I was on top,” she replied, more a statement of fact than an argument of their new positions.

Jamie sighed, his hips quivering as they began to pick up pace once more. “A-aye,” he returned, “yer still on top, Claire…fuck…” he swore, the powerful swell of want expanding inside of him as she crushed her thighs around his hips and ‘encouraged’ him to move fully inside her. “See,” he said, with no hesitation now. “I feel you, Claire.”

Claire nodded, her helplessness decreasing with each tight thrust of Jamie’s hips as he fought to continue moving against her in their current situation.

Her world was spinning as she felt his pelvis grind against hers. It was like nothing else and stars sprung up behind her eyes. “Kiss me…” she blurted out, her voice sounding strangled and strange even to her ears, “please, fuck…kiss me now!”

Obeying, Jamie redistributed his weight onto his elbows as he let himself lower softly over her subtle curves. The press of her breasts against him set his flesh alight and his mouth immediately found hers to stop himself from saying something improper in the moment. She was beyond beautiful now, and he’d thought her captivating before - but in the dim glow of the bedroom light with her hair fanned around her face and the palest hint of pink glowing against her cheeks she looked almost otherworldly. He could have lain like this forever with her, cataloguing each freckle, each delicate line that formed her body, each blue vein that ran just beneath the surface of her pearly white skin. But his cock was singing off a different hymn sheet.

He shouldn’t have sullied divination with a ‘one-night stand’, he knew, but the comparison of heaven and being inside Claire like this were surely one and the same. If not, he hoped the afterlife yielded something incredibly similar or else he’d be very disappointed.

“F-fuck…Jesus, fuck…” Claire cursed, pulling Jamie from his thoughts of God and heaven back to Claire herself. The slight pink had increased, spreading across her face now in an ocean of deep red as her nails dug painfully into his sides. She convulsed, her mouth falling open and her lips flushing red as her thighs increased their pressure around him.

Claire couldn’t think. Her mind emptied as the waves of pleasure captured her and dragged her under. She hadn’t had sex since…

…and even then it had been perfunctory. The actions necessary to create new life and not an act of pleasure for either. This was immensely different. This was passion like nothing she’d experienced before. This wasn’t about power or possession. Frank had always *loved* Claire, but he always wanted to own her. His behaviour towards her was always one of control. Jamie gave freely, expecting nothing in return, only wanted to lay himself at her feet. As the haze faded and her breathing evened out, Claire rolled her spine, her legs flopping bonelessly against the bed as she tried to ascertain whether Jamie had…

He hadn’t.

She could tell instantly. The tense set of his jaw and the fiery lust that glimmered in his eyes told her all she needed to do. He was patiently waiting for her to be conscious again, his thoughts only on ensuring her utter emotional comfort in his presence.

“Jamie…” she whispered, her palm coming to rest carefully against his cheek as she ran her fingers of his almost smooth face, “come…don’t hold back,” Claire coaxed, her tongue peeking out to wet her dry lips in a move that had Jamie squirming above her. “Oh, fuck, Jamie…please,” she gasped, feeling one strong movement of him against her sensitive flesh.

“Ah…Dhia!” He moaned, his Gaelic overriding English in the heat of the moment. Dropping his forehead to rest against hers he allowed his body to take control of his actions. His hips thrust erratically, the sweat of exertion coating him head to toe as in a few short, sharp motions he came his chest throbbing with the force of it.

Lying together in the aftermath, Claire stroked the damp curls on Jamie’s forehead as he nuzzled against her neck. The tickle of his breath against the thin skin there made her smile. It sent little shockwaves through her, but she was enjoying his close contact too much to move him. She could still feel the after-effects of their passionate evening between her thighs as the moisture gathered there. Something about the warmth of it soothed her. She hadn’t known closeness in such a long time and having Jamie’s body molded to hers whilst the essence of him lined the tops of her legs made her heart throb with want.

Shaking off the thought, she pulled the duvet tighter around them and let sleep pull her under.

Morning wasn’t as awkward as Claire envisioned it would be. She left her bed before Jamie woke and began getting some breakfast ready for the both of them.

Jamie followed only moments later, appearing with only his boxer shorts on, his hair flicking up all over the place. He looked well rested, sleep still forming in his eyes as he rubbed them and yawned.

“Morning, sassenach,” he said on arrival in the kitchen, a crack echoing around the small space as he stretched his spine and pulled a chair up to the breakfast bar.

“Good morning, Jamie,” she replied, placing a steaming hot bowl of porridge in front of him with a large cup of coffee. “What are your plans for the day?”

“Ach,” he replied with a distinctly Scottish clearing of his throat, “I have to go and view some cattle just outside of the city. I’m looking to expand the farm.”

“Oh,” she said, her eyebrows raising, “that sounds interesting. What do you look for in a good heifer then?” She joked, winking as she sipped at her own cup of coffee.

“Good strong rump!” Jamie retorted, a twinkle in his eye as he replied. “And spirit. Every lassie needs a wee sprinkle of sass, aye?”

“Aye, indeed.” Claire chuckled, the sensation shocking her a little.

Jamie saw the shadow beneath Claire’s eyes reignite at the sound of her own laughter and he smiled sadly in recognition. Finishing up his breakfast, he tapped his bare foot against the metal legs of the chair. “I should go,” he said meaning the complete opposite.

“Yes,” Claire replied thinking that she didn’t want him to go. Something about him that spoke to her on a completely unconscious level. He was like sunshine, covering her in warmth, increasing the level of vitamin D in her veins. But she couldn’t let her baser needs dictate her actions.

It had been one night. As she’d told him before they’d done it. Just one night of fun, nothing more.

Even as she thought it, nodding with a small, coy smile plastered across her face, she knew she was lying. She’d been lying when she’d said it out loud to him only hours before. The question that he’d asked her before they’d found themselves in flagrante came to mind as she watched him depart the kitchen to get himself dressed.

She was lonely, he was right. Lonely and so very fucking tired.

True to her word, she didn’t see Jamie again. Much to Geillis’ distaste.

“Claire, he asks about ye all the time. Let me gi’ you his number…call him? Please?” She’d begged over tea one day, her bright green eyes imploring Claire to accept her offer.

“Isn’t it wrong of you to give out the number of your clients, Geillis?” Claire had lightly castigated, trying to change the tenor of the conversation away from her very dubious love life.

“Aye, but only if he doesna want you to have it. And he does.”

“Has he said as much, or are you just assuming?”

“Me?!” Geillis replied, faux-scandalised by Claire’s suggestion, “assuming, Claire? Never.”

“So that’s a yes then.” Claire scoffed, scalding herself on her hot tea as she tried to sip it. The mention of Jamie now came with added tension, something that she didn’t want to open up to her friend just yet as she surreptitiously rubbed her womb, her fingers metaphorically crossed with each passing day.

“Claire, at least let me gi’ him your number?”

“No.” Claire bit back quickly, the sudden remembrance of her late period causing her to be sharper than needed with her friend. “No,” she repeated in a softer tone, “I’m not ready, Geillis. Not yet.”

“How long into it will ye wait, Claire?” Geillis said, a glint in her eye as she nudged Claire’s foot beneath the table.

“You know?” She whispered in return, her world spinning.

“I ken you, Claire…that and ye keep holding onto yer abdomen like your worried it might abscond without permission.”

Claire gawped, her mouth falling open and closing again like a fish out of water as her friend pushed her fringe from her face and tilted her head. “It’s too soon, Gellie. To know for sure…and I don’t want to…think it. Not now, not until I *know*.”

Geillis smiled sadly, her memory of Claire’s utter desolation through the later half of her relationship with Frank still raw even to her. “…and if ye are, then will you talk to him?”

“Yes, of course.” Claire said, nodding along as she nursed her cooling drink. “He has a right to know.”

It only took two more days for her world to be shattered once more.

Sitting on the cold plastic of her office en-suite, Claire rocked back and forth, her belly convulsing with pain as she tried desperately to control her sobbing.

“Dr!” A loud call came from beyond the loo.

Pulling herself together, Claire scrubbed the shed tears from her cheeks as she cleaned up - placing the disregarded tampon wrapper in the correct bin as she steeled herself to go back to work. Whatever the cost, she still had a job to do.

“Come in,” she called, sitting at her desk and rearranging the photograph she had of her uncle Lamb sitting aside her laptop.

“Dr Beauchamp,” the intern said with some trepidation, he could tell already that she’d been crying but her obvious attempts to cover it up made the young doctor bury the urge to ask if she was alright. She probably wasn’t. “There’s a call for you through at reception, can you come and take it?”

Sighing, she pushed the chair away and forced herself up.

Taking hold of the ancient receiver she swallowed back her grief. “Hello, Dr Claire Beauchamp here, how can I help?”

“Claire,” came the crackled response. Jamie. “I had t’ phone ye. I hope you don’t mind. Geillis said-“

Immediately Claire knew why he was calling. Geillis could *never* keep her mouth shut. Gulping back the large lump that had suddenly appeared -as if trying to choke her- she prepared herself for the words she knew he was about to say - and the response she had to give in return.

“Weel, she said you might be *pregnant*?”

She could hear the worry in his voice as he said the word and she didn’t leave him hanging for long.

“I’m not. Not as of today, so you don’t need to panic, Jamie. I’m not.”

Slamming the phone down without waiting to hear his reply, Claire shook her curls and rolled her shoulders. Ignoring the bustling reception of the A&E department around her, she turned and walked slowly back to her office without acknowledging anyone. Just wanting to return to the relative safety of her office, she sloped back.

“L.J.!” Joe called out, seeing Claire’s discrete distress as she tried so hard to conceal her brimming tears.

Dr Joe Abernathy had trained with Claire, and was the person one who knew absolutely everything. He hadn’t quite heard all of the one-sided conversation, but he’d heard enough to hazard a guess. Him and Geillis had differing ideas on how to keep Claire afloat and upon hearing the end of her sentence, he cursed the woman for interfering so.

Claire studiously ignored Joe, knowing full well that if she allowed him to talk to her that she would lose it completely and break down in the middle of the busy hospital aisles. She just had to make it back to the office.

“Claire,” Joe called again, following her into the small room and closing the door behind him as he watched her crawl back into her swivel chair,  pulling her knees up to her chest, cocooning her arms neatly around them as she rested her head against her knees. “Shit, L.J. I think you need to go home. Cry off sick, I’ll cover for you. Jesus.” He said, his thick Bostonian drawl a welcome break from the Scots burr that reminded her too much of Jamie for the moment.

“I can’t go home, Joe.” She said matter of factly. “I’ll be fine, just let me get on with this mountain of paperwork, and I’ll be—“

“Don’t dare say ‘fine’, L.J.” He warned, a slight tilt of his head as his eyes narrowed at her. “I knew that whole blind date shit was going to be a disaster.”

“It wasn’t,” Claire replied, not wishing Joe to get into another discussion with her about Geillis’ meddling. “Trust me, it wasn’t. Not at first…”

“Chuff!” Joe retorted. “Fuck. Claire. Pregnant? Is that what that guy said down the phone to you?”

“How rude, Joe,” Claire said, with no weight to her words as she looked sorrowfully up at him. She didn’t have the strength to mean it. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that it’s rude to eavesdrop?”

“When it comes to you, L.J., nothing is off limits. If I didn’t, you’d never tell me anything.” He countered, a soft look aimed at her as he spoke.

Claire’s chin quivered, the gentle throb of period pain bringing back her huge sense of loss as she tried to hold it together for just a minute longer. “Fuck, Joe…” she sobbed, the first tears falling as he chest heaved with the weight of her grief, “what am I going to do?”

Launching himself forwards, Joe caught Claire just as she flopped forwards. Gathering her up in his arms he held her softly against his chest and rocked her soothingly. “For a start, Claire Beauchamp,” he whispered, placing a delicate kiss against her forehead, “you are going to go home and take care of yourself. Don’t worry,” he continued as he felt her drag in a breath, preparing to disagree with him no doubt, “I’ll get you home. Nobody will know a thing.”

“Thank you, Joe,” Claire said, the fight falling from her lips as she look up at him, her eyes sparkling with a mass of unshed tears. “Thank you.”

Curled up under her duvet with the television softly playing in the background, Claire finally let herself fully crumble. Her chest ached and her throat stung, raw from the sheer amount of tears she’d shed since crawling into bed only hours before.

She’d wanted to make Jamie believe that she was relieved. She fucking hoped she’d achieved it. If he thought her unfeeling, perhaps he’d move on and accept her decision.

“I can’t,” she whispered as her subconscious castigated her foolishness, taunting her with ideas of a blossoming relationship with Jamie instead of just the one night stand she’d convinced herself she’d needed. “Not again, I just can’t…”

Burying her face in her pillow, she wiped the detritus of her sorrow onto the soft casing. Pulling the sides up around her ears, she clung to the fabric with all her might and let out an almighty scream. The hate poured out of her and into the fluffy duck down as she clenched her fingers tight.

“I fucking hate you!” She yelled at herself, loathing coating her skin like ash and death. “I *really* fucking hate you…”

- – -

I have no idea how this is gonna go, but I would do anything for @prompt-master so here we go!

Jeremy’s quick and flexible, but he slips up while he’s gearing up to swing toward an opposite building to put some space between he and SQUIP. The rooftop beneath him is slick from the persistent downpour, and his foot slides out from underneath him just as he’s about to leap off the side of the building. He hits the ground hard and let’s out a low groan as he pushes himself up on his elbows.

“Clumsy for a supposed superhero.”

Jeremy breathes out a shaky laugh. “Minor setback,” he grumbles, but before he can get to his feet, SQUIP is pinning him back to the ground with pointy knees against his legs.

“I wasn’t aware you were into all this,” Jeremy says, voice teasing as he motions with his head to the compromising position the two are in. “I mean, I’m not really into villains, but-”

Whatever snarky comment to follow is lost by a sharp blade slicing across his stomach. He gasps, a pained breath shooting up his throat, as his entire body tenses against the blade.

Keep reading

Helpless: Part 3

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Reader

Summary: You feel the same pain your soulmate feels.

Other Parts: one / two

Draco laid in bed after seeing you in the dungeons. He went through many phases of uncertainty, like if you were really his soulmate, if you even wanted to be with him, if he was about to risk getting caught just to help you out. He assured himself, that this was important, that you were important to him and he wasn’t about to let you go like nothing. Memories of how broken you looked, kept eating at his mind. All this made him enraged, it made him wish he wasn’t part of all of this.

Tossing and turning was all he could do, not able to get you from his head. He recalled all the times at school, he might have said something mean to you or acted like an ass in front of you and your friends. He yearned to take back that impression of himself, but his soulmate is supposed to love him, for him, right? Just like he wanted to do with you, just like he was trying to do for you.

Draco wracks his brain for memories of you, memories of you that aren’t you, bloody and bruised, in the middle of his manor, between your enemies. Your enemies are all he’s ever known.

He wished he could have found out you were his soulmate, sooner. Then maybe he could have bared the weight of this mark with someone else. He wouldn’t have had to go through all this alone. But, he has you now.  He hopes he does, he needs you, god knows, he doesn’t have much else.

Draco sighed, staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom. His body always felt heavy, after he got the mark. He hated himself and the mark. He wondered if it hurt for you when Voldemort put it on his arm, he’d have to ask.

His mind drifted back to you, he wasn’t tired anymore. He needed to talk to his mother, he needed to get you out of here. He didn’t know how long they’d wait to kill you and he was petrified. He’s never had a fear of losing something before.

Draco pushed the blankets that seemed to suffocate him off of his body, sitting up in bed. He debated going down to see you, but getting caught would surely cost you your life. But as long as he doesn’t get caught…

The boy got up from his bed, throwing on a long sleeve shirt and pants. In a haste, he got to the door, pulling it open just to check to see if anyone was up. No one kept watch on the dungeons at night, they didn’t think they had a reason to, but then again, his mother assisted him last time. Draco went back to grab his wand, just in case.

He tip-toed out of his room, flashing looks behind him every few seconds. He made his way downstairs and through hallways. He looked over the corner of a wall, not seeing anyone sitting beside the stairwell to the dungeons.

Draco almost laughed, but was too afraid to make noise. They’re so dumb, he thought.

He continued moving with caution, grabbing the keys and making his way down the stairs, until he stood at the end of them. He was about to unlock the door, but he stopped. He looked at you through the bars, you were sleeping or you just haven’t noticed him, yet. Maybe he should have brought food or prepared what he was gonna say.

Draco sighed, starting to doubt himself as he looked over at your body, your legs pulled up to your chest as you sat against the stonewall.

The pale boy looked down at his arm, pulling up the sleeve to reveal the mark, he ran his fingers over it. It gave him an idea.

He swallowed, preparing himself for the truth as he took his thumb and pointer finger, pinching down hard on his wrist.

“Ow!” You cried out from the sudden pain in your wrist, moving out of your position to look at your arm.

Draco smirked, he moved his hand up more on his arm until he pinched himself again, squeezing a bit harder.

“What the hell?!” You yelled, moving your hand to cover up the spot where it hurt, as if it’d protect you from the pain of someone else. You caught on that it was your soulmate pinching you, you almost laughed at the fact, but right now, it was just plain annoying.

You used one of your hands to pinch yourself, that’ll serve em right.

Draco wasn’t expecting you to pinch back as he yelped out in pain. “Ouch!”

You quickly whipped your head around at the sound, confused at the sound of him in pain. “Draco…?” You whispered, checking to make sure it wasn’t someone here to bring you to your death.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s me.” He pulled down his sleeve before he used the keys to open up the cell door, walking towards you with hesitance.

“Is it time?” You asked, hopefully.

Draco looked down, ashamed. He should have considered he was getting your hopes up, just coming down here. “Uh… No. Not yet, but don’t worry, I’ll still get you out of here.”

You nodded, biting at your lip. You debated whether to ask why he was down here, but he beat you to it.

“I just- I just wanted to see if you were okay.” Draco lost all confidence he’s ever had. Here he was, standing in front of you, nervous as he’s ever been in his entire life.

You beam, looking away from the boy as you feel heat sneak up onto your cheeks. You almost scolded yourself for feeling this way, but you couldn’t help that your heart sped up.

“Can we talk?” He inquired, gesturing to the spot beside you on the floor.

You nodded swiftly, accepting any human interaction you could get, right now.

“Can I show you something?” Draco didn’t ask his mother about this, if it was a good idea to tell you about you both being soulmates, but he wanted you to know, he didn’t know what might happen after he helped you escape.

“Sure.” You answered, hesitantly. You hadn’t had the slightest idea about what it was.

Draco pulled up the sleeve that didn’t hide the Dark Mark, you looked at him, confused. He took a deep breath, it was much more unnerving that he was now doing it in front of you. He closed his eyes as he moved two fingers to the skin of his arm, pinching his pale skin between his fingers.

You gasped, more out of surprise than the pain of it. You moved your own fingers to his skin, pinching it again to make sure you felt it right, that it wasn’t just a coincidence.

He laughed, he was anxious, but your reaction so far, was better than what he expected.

You swallowed, your eyes looking up at his. You had tears in your eyes, it made Draco’s heart tear a little. “You’re- You’re my-” You stopped, talking a deep breath. “You’re my soulmate.”

Bar Stools.

Requested: “  Hi! Do you think that you could write a Graves x Read where the reader is a flapper or a showgirl or a whore or something like that…?”

Requested by: The awesome @this-is-so-not-okay

Warnings: None

Word count: 2302

The night life was the only life you’d ever wanted. It was as if the lights of the city, the sounds of the passing automobiles and club atmosphere made your heart soar.

It was where you came to life.

Where you felt like your life was yours.

But all those nights tended to bleed into one big mess lately. You were struggling to find excitement in your life. You were struggling to figure out where you fit in. Where you needed to go from here, but no amount of time seemed to bring you any satisfaction. Not enough nights working at night could bring you to life.

Not until you saw him.

It had be your (e/c) that had caught his attention when he’d walked into that bar on that particular night. It had been the way they lit up when you danced, when you laughed, when you looked at the world in awe. Despite all you’d been through, all the lonely nights you still looked pure to him.

Untouched by torment.

The torment he knew all too well.

Percival Graves had been dead for years, dead but still living after the events with Grindelwald. It was as if he had died and there was no way to be revived until he saw you. It had been your fifth hour working when he’d strolled in. It was the end of the day for him, and he was surrounded by a few men wearing suits that were almost as impressive as his. You’d looked at him the moment he walked in, as if your eyes were pulled to his.

As if you were destined to find each other.

On that day.

On that night.

You were wearing a red flapper dress with lipstick that was the same shade. Your makeup had withstood hours of dancing, your hair still in place. To him you were the most wonderful thing he’d ever seen. A pretty beacon of hope dressed to the nines.

He watched you closely as you danced, his eyes remaining on you even when you dared to look away. When you found that you couldn’t handle one more moment under his brown eyes. It was as if you were two magnets that were pulsating towards each other. Two pieces desperate for the other.

You had to know his name.

He had to know yours.

So when you headed to break, you found you heal clad feet taking you towards him. Normally you weren’t brave enough to talk to someone as attractive to him, but after a series of bland nights you couldn’t deny yourself the opportunity to seek out the person who had made you feel so much with one look. Heading to the bar you move through the sea of people, your body grazing nameless faces until you reach the one who’s name you desired so deeply.

“Excuse me?”

Your voice whispered. From across the room you’d been much braver, but now, it was hard to look at the handsome stranger and not feel slightly intimidated. But even though you were quiet he still heard you.

Turning to face you his eyes locked with yours slowly, his gaze making you feel like the most important person in the room. He studied your face first before falling over your body, his lips tugging into a faint smirk at the sight of your red dress up close. He’d admired you from afar, but up close you were more perfect than he could’ve ever hoped for.

“My name is Percival Graves…”

He states looking at you, his smile widening when he answers your question before you even had the chance to utter it.

“… What’s yours?”

The question is simple enough, but it feels complicated all of a sudden. His gaze seems to fluster you for a moment, his handsome face suddenly more intimidating than it was before. Blinking a few times you force your brain to work and your mouth to move.


You whisper in response your hand extending out to shake his before you have the chance to think better of it. The man in front of you, the man who called himself Percival Graves, was one you’d heard all about. You might not work for Macusa, but every wizard in New York had heard about the disappearance of Percival Graves. And looking at him now you wonder how you didn’t recognize him before you’d said anything to him.

“What a lovely name for a lovely girl.”

Keep reading



I hope you’ve dusted off your dancing shoes, Libra! This is your month to fete yourself, and the celebration can (and should!) be nothing less than spectacular. As you enter this new season of your life, take a chance on yourself and do something you’ve never done! Give yourself permission to step outside of the responsibilities and boundaries you’ve adhered to for so long (adulthood, am I right? UGH.) and regain your sense of magic and wonder, if only for one night! You may find yourself craving some respite from spontaneity and adventure soon, so take advantage of your moment of abandon while you can, and then allow yourself to slip back into your quieter state. But if you find that a part of you still yearns for the kind of life-changing mystery and adventure that your day-to-day experiences simply can’t deliver, you should know exactly where to turn: books! Your lucky selection for this month follows three generations of a family in the Virgin Islands, right after being transferred from Danish to American rule. Two sisters and their half brother, orphaned by a shipwreck, each possess a particular magic that will either sink or save them. Allow yourself to be swept away by this gorgeous, vibrant tale that will remind you of the unlimited promise of a new beginning…and the beautiful chaos of a life richly lived.

LUCKY BOOK: Land of Love and Drowning by Tiphanie Yanique


Welcome to fall, Scorpio! The seasons are changing, pumpkins are emerging, and as usual, this time of change and transition is making you antsy. You need a goal, a plan, something to aspire to, and right now, you’re undergoing a massive shift in thinking that typically precedes a bold move. So what will it be, Scorpio? With your birthday just around the corner, and a brand year hot on its heels, you’re in prime position to make a definitive move. A word of caution (and encouragement): you are, at this very moment, laying the groundwork for the change you want to see occur in your life. Whether it be a relationship beginning or ending, a new business opportunity or a farewell to your current career, you’re doing the work necessary to get yourself to the next place you’re itching to be. Don’t underestimate your ambition: these changes may be happening faster than you thought possible or necessary. But you know what? This is when you celebrate, not panic. You’re totally capable of this! Don’t believe me? Take a look at your desk, at the state of your bedroom. If you’re cringing at the mess, you shouldn’t. Your lucky book this month will show you why your more free-spirited, devil-may-care approach to life (and unfolded laundry) may contribute to your creativity and wellspring of ideas. Trust yourself, Scorpio, and take the leap. You’re ready!

LUCKY BOOK: Messy: The Power of Disorder to Transform Our Lives by Tim Harford


Squad up, Sagittarius! This month is all about the power of the collective - we all know what one is the loneliest number, and while that may be preferable from time to time, it’s important to maintain those socializing and collaboration skills when more manpower is required. Are you in the throes of planning a massive Halloween bash? Don’t run yourself into the ground; delegate tasks and continue getting sleep at night! Trying to negotiate a thorny work situation? Call an emergency friend meeting and spill the beans: sometimes it takes multiple points of entry on a problem before you can gain any clarity. Keep in mind, however, that at all times, you are the master of your fate. Working with other people doesn’t mean letting them walk all over you! Figure out exactly what it is that you want, and allow the people who love and care for you to be there in your time of need. Teamwork makes the dream work, after all. For some of the most epic and mind-bendingly unforgettable scenes that showcase the importance of community and self-sufficiency, be sure to pick up a copy of your lucky book for this month. It’s a harrowing, gorgeous story of survival in the face of overwhelming odds, and the power of just a few impactful relationships in completely transforming someone’s life – for good.

LUCKY BOOK: My Absolute Darling by Gabriel Tallent


Capricorn, I hope you’re feeling ready to receive some blessings this month. Success is looming, and it’d be a shame if you missed the opportunities coming your way! Imposter syndrome, stage fright, survivor’s remorse – whatever you’d like to call it, it has no place in your life right now, do you hear me? This is the month where you bet on yourself: take some wild chances and make sure you’re rubbing elbows with the right people. At the end of the day, it’s rarely only luck or only connections that get you where you need to go; it’s both. And talking yourself out of attending that party, answering that phone call, or writing that letter will only hurt yourself in the long run. Yes, putting yourself out there is frightening, no one is denying that. But how will you ever know what you’re capable of if you don’t make an attempt? Do yourself a favor: live. Take risks. Show up. Make mistakes, and keep trying. If I can’t convince you, then maybe your lucky book this month will: a succinct and inspiring memoir of a hospice chaplain’s experiences with people at the very end of their lives. Sometimes the best way to ensure we make the most out of today is remembering that we never know when there will be no more tomorrow – a chilling thought, but also, a motivating one! Until we unlock the secret to immortality, taking control of now is the best chance we have to live a life we can be proud of – so seriously, Cap, what exactly are you waiting for?

LUCKY BOOK: On Living by Kerry Egan


Work hard, play hard, Aquarius! I want you to think of this month as the reward for all of the labor you’ve been putting in – at work, at home, in a certain relationship, or even on yourself. There’s an area of your life that you’ve been laser focused on improving or becoming more knowledgeable in, and the hours you’ve put in may have felt overlooked. That is not so! You’re growing, Aquarius, and with growth comes rewards. Not everyone can apply such brainpower to such a specific issue for such a long period of time (seriously!) and you should absolutely give yourself a pat on the back. You may not be aware of this, but people are watching, and they’re taking note of how self-motivated and accomplished you are (or will be!). Use that reputation you’re building for good, and continue to build. For inspiration, the author of this month’s lucky book is about as #goals as you can get. A journalist who fled her own country because of political persecution, she has devoted her life to exposing and telling the hard truths about figures in power who have built their empires on the backs of the oppressed. After years of both study and hard reporting, she has created a reputation and career that cannot be diminished. This month, learn from one of the best to ever do it, Aquarius, and then keep reminding yourself that if you keep putting in the work, the world will be within your grasp. Take it.

LUCKY BOOK: The Future is History: How Totalitarianism Reclaimed Russia by Masha Gessen


Hey, Pisces. This month got off to a rather dramatic start, didn’t it? Everything feels a bit frenetic and electric right now, a bit like you’ve slammed an open palm on a live wire. This is a blessing and a curse, no doubt about it. The powers of attraction are at their peak right now, so don’t be surprised at the heads turning your way as you walk down the street, or the rather impassioned messages that begin rolling into your Tinder inbox. Committed Pisces, this may be the month you find yourself having the difficult conversations you’ve both been avoiding – for better or for worse (words chosen carefully). You’re realizing who your true friends are and who you can more accurately think of as an acquaintance – realizations that may be painful in the moment, but ultimately vital to know in the long run. Work catastrophes reveal important things about how you and your colleagues respond under pressure. If the universe’s grand gestures begin to feel too overwhelming to deal with, turn to your lucky book this month – a sharp, concise novel about what happens when your public and private lives intersect in ways that quickly morph from exciting to dangerous. In those moments, it becomes imperative to see past your immediate emotional reaction, and be able to make decisions under immense pressure. This time will pass, Pisces, and you’ll be able to relax. Until then, keep your eyes open, and focus on those deep breaths. You’ll make it through this month, step by careful step.

LUCKY BOOK: Reputations by Juan Gabriel Vásquez


Happy autumn, Aries! Maybe it’s all the pumpkin spice wafting through the air, or maybe it’s your eternal hatred for all things pumpkin spice – either way, October has you feeling fired up and full of energy. There is so much to do, so many people to see and places to go, and at the rate you’re going, you just may be able to squeeze them all in! Embrace the high you’re feeling, and ride it for as long as you can. People naturally want to be in your orbit right now; you’re exuding positive vibes and it can only open more doors for you. But if you put yourself out there, you have to be ready for whatever comes, even opportunities you weren’t necessarily expecting. Be honest about where you want to go, and if you happen to bite off more than you can chew, own it. Don’t set yourself up for future failure because you’re enjoying the attention now! Have integrity and value other people’s time and energy as much as they value yours. Your lucky book this month is full of stories that get right to the heart of some of the most beautiful and admirable shades of humanity: compassion, hard work, friendship, loyalty. It’s the perfect reminder to keep you grounded and humble this month, even as your social status (and Instagram follower count) rises.

LUCKY BOOK: Five-Carat Soul by James McBride


Up and at ‘em, Taurus! The slightly cooler fall temperatures have encouraged you to lace up your jogging shoes, because who wants to go for a run in the thick of August, dripping with sweat? Not you, and I don’t blame you. So this month, you’re leaning into your fitness dreams and getting yourself back on track. While you’re in the gym, on the trail, or posing like a tree, try to apply a similar level of focus to your internal exercises as well. What have you allowed to accumulate these past few months that you would do well to shed now? What are you holding onto that weighs you down, making it increasingly difficult to get out of bed? It may take some meditation, a clarifying talk with your therapist, or simply some downtime, away from the constant blue glow of your smartphone. But most of all, what it will take is time. This month, you’ll find both validation and wisdom in your lucky book – very important companions on a journey like the one you’re embarking upon. In today’s fast-paced, efficiency-obsessed world, the standards for compassionate human care have declined, and so has our approach to health. You’ll learn why a return to a slower method of care is vital, and see why applying the same principles of kindness and patience to your own emotional fitness plan will ensure long-lasting results.

LUCKY BOOK: Slow Medicine: The Way to Healing by Victoria Sweet


Strike a pose, gem! You’re feeling like a million bucks (and looking like it, too)! Allow yourself to indulge in some vanity this month and treat every street you walk down like your personal catwalk. Smize, work it, stunt, repeat. You’ve been logging some hard hours lately, putting in the effort to make your mark on the world. Well, the world won’t know about it unless you promote! Use this surge of confidence to put yourself out there, unapologetically: send those scary pitch emails, network with people you idolize, find ways to brag about your work. Suffering from impostor syndrome? That’s normal, and it’s okay. It’s nearly impossible to get to the next level in your career or side-hustle without feeling a bit of natural fear and “what am I doing here?” But the trick is to keep pushing anyway. Recognize when you start to pull back and retreat into a safe shell, and remind yourself that this means this thing you’re attempting to do, this next level you’re aspiring to reach, is a bit scary and therefore most likely worth the fear! For some extra inspiration (and a little bit of hand-holding; don’t pretend you’re above it!), turn to your lucky book this month: a sizzling collection of short stories from one of the masters of the genre! Each story features characters that undergo difficult, sometimes seemingly impossible circumstances, with only their wits to rely on - with varying levels of success. Life may be a crapshoot, Gem, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. You’ve got the juice, now go act like it!

LUCKY BOOK: The King is Always Above the People by Daniel Alarcón


Click those heels three times, Cancer, you know you want to. Right now, staying in and getting re-acquainted with your couch and streaming device probably sound like paradise – parades and raucous nights out be damned. Or perhaps you’re feeling particularly nostalgic and yearning to reconnect with people from your past, the people who immediately come to mind when you think of ‘home.’ Follow these instincts; there’s a reason you’re feeling this way! Whether that means giving yourself some time away from the fall hustle and bustle to have a few quiet nights in, or make a point to call your grandparents and ask how they’re doing, reconnecting with your roots is a perfect way to begin a brand new season. Just don’t let your need for quiet and reflection lead you to isolate yourself, because that isn’t healthy either. Your lucky book this month a beautifully stirring portrait of several generations of women, and how the stories that once started out as fact become contorted, stretched, and glossed over with the passage of time. It’s a celebration of family, albeit not a completely pleasant one (realistic), and the perfect companion on a chilly autumn night.

LUCKY BOOK: I’m Supposed to Protect You From All This by Nadja Spiegelman


Hello, Leo? You there? You’re giving Waldo and Carmen a run for their money this month with your aura of mystery. But sometimes you just need to shake things up, right? Life’s way too short to be boring! Walk a different path, go to a concert for an artist you’ve never heard of, finally wear that outfit you’ve kept in the back of your closet for months! Your teenage years and early twenties are not the only time you can claim self-discovery: it’s constant, this kind of growth, and you’ll never stop learning who you are, because you’re changing all the time. And if this makes you a little difficult to pin down sometimes, well, so be it. (But please - return your mother’s phone calls.) As you venture into the unknown, making new friends and setting down new roots, remember that at some point, your past will catch up. And if that reminder gives you pause…do your future self a favor and reevaluate some of your decisions. The main character of your lucky book probably should have taken that advice, but her journey is so riveting, you definitely won’t mind. Sometimes the road to self-discovery includes a few broken hearts – and when they revolve around someone whose whereabouts and actions are hard to keep track of (ahem), rumors start to fly. Between your thrilling excursions this month, be sure to get into your lucky book. You’ll be very, very glad you did.

LUCKY BOOK: The Mothers by Brit Bennett


Hey, Virgo! Got plans to slow down anytime soon? Your creative well is positively overflowing and pumping the breaks can feel a bit like self-sabotage. NOT. You aren’t a machine, and you need to rest to keep that energy going. Be kind to yourself and watch your productivity flourish. That said, beware the admirers who come around with empty hands outstretched: in a dog-eat-dog world, sometimes you need to override your naturally nurturing and coaching tendencies to recognize when people want to profit off your creativity for free. Be kind, but but be firm: you’ve worked too hard to get the point you’re at in order for someone else to swoop in and claim credit for what you’ve built. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with protecting what’s yours – and perhaps, if you’re feeling generous, helping others discover and fine-tune their own ideas. We know you’re on the go this month, so your lucky book is not quite as text-heavy, but not short on the inspiration: a collection of gorgeous original artwork and accompanying annotations from one of the most prolific political cartoonists of our times. When you’re in the thick of your own artistic process, learning how others approach and execute their work can be an immeasurable gift. Onward, Virgo, but consider scheduling a nap?

LUCKY BOOK: Blitt by Barry Blitt

Vodka &Cotton Candy

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction
Warnings: language, smut

🌜Tagged for permanent updates🌛


“I was on the third floor when a man got on the elevator with me. I didn’t know him, but he seemed transfixed by me. His eyes soon wandered down to the logo on my shirt. He said something about Star Wars I can’t really remember exactly what. When the elevator door finally chimed opened can you believe what he said next?”

I had my head resting on the headboard behind me. It was dark in the room and the bathroom door in the bedroom was wide open. The water running in the shower mimicked the sound of rain. The shower glass door was closed and the thick foggy midst on the glass concealed his body. From the opening up top all I could see was his shampooed hair and his arms that glistened with water as he washed through it.

“No tell me?” Sebastian called out making his voice become louder.

“He told me to live long and prosper.” I waited to hear a gasp or a long over exaggerated no, but all I could hear was the water. “He fucking referenced Star Trek!” I laughed with gesticulation. I soon heard laughing coming from inside of the bathroom.

I took my eyes off of his blurred naked silhouette and resumed looking at my feet. I was wearing two different pairs of shoes, because I had been indecisive over which shoe to go with. The black suede lace up heal on my left foot that I bought from target or the classic black pointed Louboutin on my right. I eyed my choices very carefully examining them like the world’s toughest decision. Till finally I picked a shoe.

Emerging from the bathroom still slightly drenched in water. Sebastian wore a red towel around his waist that looked like at any minute it would come falling down. He also kept a towel over his head, rubbing it rigorously through his hair.

“And that is why I love you.” He smiled.

My eyes immediately shot back down to my feet. Sebastian and I have been dating forty six days and counting. It wasn’t till now I heard him say that four letter word. I couldn’t have made things more awkward enough by continuing to look at my fucking feet! For starters I didn’t even know what context he was using it in. Secondly of course I felt the same I just wasn’t sure I was ready to let him know that.

“You aren’t wearing the shoes I got you?” The quizzical expression on his face let me know he was confused by my choice as well. I went with the lace ups instead.

“These just went better with my skirt.” My skirt fell above my ankle and was a dark olive green color. That had buttons coming in a straight line down the middle. I stood up to show him my shoes to only see the slightly disappointed look in his eyes.

“Either pair would’ve been fine.” Sebastian moved around the room to the other side of the bed to pick up the clothes he had laid out to wear for dinner tonight. I walked to the full length mirror out in the hall examining myself. Paired with my skirt I had a simple black long sleeve crop top that almost covered my midriff. No jewelry and minimum makeup. I kept my hair simple by wearing it pin straight and split down the middle. Recently I don’t know what’s come over me but I started to care a little too much of how I looked before leaving the mirror. If they saw one imperfection, the tiniest one I would be reminded of it for days.

I didn’t realize how long I was standing there till I suddenly started feeling Sebastian’s arms slide around my waist tightly holding me still. I lifted my hands to place on top of his. Resting his chin on my shoulder he looked tentatively in my eyes in the mirror. Pausing between every word.

“You…look..absolutely…beautiful tonight Peyton.”

Looking away from him in the mirror I twisted my neck to kiss him softy on the cheek. But my lips landed on his mouth instead. It was a lingering kiss that neither of us broke away from. A long interminable kiss that caused me to hold my breath till I couldn’t breathe. I leaned away, eyes fluttering open till I was able to adjust. “We don’t want to be late.” Sebastian said, as his face still hovered over mine.

The scent from the night air filled my lungs. A cool breeze wrapped around me and the palm trees in the distance looked like tall shadows. It was quiet out. Sebastian and I walked hand in hand into the garage to get to his car. I must admit I squeezed his hand incredibly hard. Every step I took I moved with caution whereas he just walked with ease.

Almost at my metaphorical finish line we reached his car. Two men with big flashing cameras ran from around the stone brick wall. Sebastian quickly unlocked the car and we both rushed inside. They stood in front of the car tactlessly snapping away on their cameras. Two more photographers ran inside of the garage blinding my eyes with their lights. I covered the side of my face as Sebastian started the car. Trying to find a clear path to make our exit. None of them were willing to move. I thought to myself here we go again.

{Part 1 out of 6}



REQUESTED BY: @sigh-whoami ; @mvrphyblooms ; @platypuseggnog ; @bellasett 💕Part two is here, guys :)

Hope you’ll like it! :) 

(Part one)

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest. You were feeling so overwhelmed, your mind running a thousand miles per hour. Your hands are getting sweaty, you were chewing on your bottom lip anxiously.

You walked down the whole corridor and nervously put a lock of hair behind your ear, as you stepped outside. It was dark and nothing could be seen on long distance. You brought yoour hand to your lips, biting your finger, lips trembling.

Your eyes dared not to look around, you were still feeling so mushy because of the whole situation. But you felt presence near you and then a hand on the side of your waist. Your head turned around instanly and met Bellamy’s warm brown eyes.

He smiled at you, but the complacency was still written on his face. “So you’re here” his voice sounded soft and tempting, the heat radiating from his body was…distracting.
You nodded your head shyly, eyes glued to the ground. He started walking and you followed him closely.

It was a rather warm night, but the air felt very thick, as if you were in some tropical forest. “So?” he finally broked the silence. Yes, he tried not to sound smug about the whole thing, but your shyness was adorable and he found it impossible not to tease you a little bit.

You took a glance at him for a second an then looked away, repeating his question. “You weren’t so silent back there with Raven. Am I making you nervous?” Oh, come on! Why was he doing this to you? He knew very well he was making you nervous and pointing it out tied your tongue on an even bigger knot.

You shook your head from side to side quickly. Lips shut tightly in a straight line, but your cheeks were burning. You were nervously playing with your fingers, when you tripped, not seeing the broken branch and lost your balance.

He caught you by the hand and for the first time your eyes locked for more then a mere second. You were walking in silence, mentally cursing yoursel for being so awkward “I’m so sorry for being so awkward” he raised your brows at you, surprised. You actually spoke to him.

“I’m usually not like that at all! But around people I like I turn into a stuttering mess! Oh…Shit…” - you put your hands over your lips, realising how in your little rambling you just admitted that you like the guy. “Oh, God, I’m impossible” uttered, covering your face completely, while he was just looking at you amused.

“What?” you asked after peering at him from in between your fingers. The smile on his face seemed to grow bigger and bigger “I don’t know, I’m just not used to get this reaction out of girls. Usually they are just invite themselves in my tent, no words involved really.”

Great. He was just being too polite to tell you how much you’re throwing you off with your insecurity. Your face lost it’s glow immediately, but apparently he wasn’t over talking, because he rested one hand on your waist and turned you in his direction very gently “It doesn’t mean I don’t like it.”

You gulped heavily, feeling the weight under his gaze. He moved slowly and with caution. One arm still on your waist, while the fingers on your other hand played with a strand of your hair. You were shifting, constantly moving your weight from one leg to the other. Not knowing where to look, what  to think.
All that existed in this moment was him, his steady breathing, his warm hands and strong presence. He had you trapped in this moment, wrapped around his finger, and he was loving it.
His fingers moved from the lock of hair to your jaw, touching it lightly.

You were standing there, gaze focused on his shoulder, afraid your heart will stop if you look at him. But he wanted to see your eyes, he wanted to be sure. Moving one step closer to your body, his fingers tilted your chin up and your eyes fell on his face.

He was studying it, like it was the most beautiful creation of art that has ever existed. Remembering all the little details of it, creating a mental map he can think of later tonight. His hand slowly caressing your skin, then cupping your cheek completely.

Your breath hitched when you saw him leaning down to you. He stopped for a second, looking back to your eyes - making sure you wanted it. And then he moved again confidently and your lips met his.
He kissed you gently, patiently waiting for you to kiss him back and when you finally did he put some more pressure on your lips, kissing you with more passion.

You were shaking, so unsure of what was happening, if it was true. An hour ago you were daydreaming about this and now it was happening.

He wasn’t rushing it, taking his time, giving you time to proceed it. But with every moment you could feel him getting more and more into it. Fingers gripping your waist slightly, until you reached up and placed one hand on his face. He pulled you even closer then, your bodies were touching, gliding against eachother, just like your lips.

You felt him smile at some point, pecking your lips before kissing you again, this time hugging you in his arms completely. You could spend an eternity like that.

“Let’s not rush this.” he said, just as put both hands around his neck, getting a bit lost in the kiss.
You nodded your head slightly, your eyes making their way to his. You wanted more of him, but you didn’t want to push your luck. “Lets walk a bit more?”.

You nodded your head again and started walking again. The taste of his lips still lingering on yours.
“It was better than I thought it would be”
You took a look in his direction confused and he smiled, telling you: “I didn’t know what I’d feel if I kiss you, but now that I did… it was better than I thought it would be.”

(should we continue with part 3? tbh at some point I felt like watching a movie while writing it haha)

prettyinpetunias  asked:

Ok how about this one for either Negan or Daryl. You both go on separate runs the morning after an unresolved fight.

A/N: I had fun writing this, although I wasn’t quite sure how to end it.

This is my last reader prompt so feel free to send in more. 

Word count: 1420

Warnings: Negan language (obviously), angst?, fluff

“You belong to me!” Negan snarled, getting up close and personal in your face. 

You simply scoffed, fuck him and his fucking intimidation. 

“Like hell I do,” you hissed back, baring your teeth at your ruthless leader and part time lover.

“Whether or not we carry on with this little escapade,” he growled gesturing with a leather clad hand between the two of you. “I’m still your goddamn boss and I still own your fuckin’ ass.” 

“Yeah well rest a-fucking-ssured this won’t be continuing,” you said mirroring the same hand gesture. 

“Watch your fuckin’ tone,” Negan barked, gripping your wrist in his strong hand. 

“I’m so done with you Negan, so fucking done,” you muttered shaking your head in disbelief. “Look it was fun while it lasted but it’s too personal now, I want out.” 

“Then out you’ll fuckin’ have doll.” Negan’s eyes were dark and dangerous. “I’ll even make it real fuckin’ easy for you, tomorrow morning, you’ll go with Simon on his pickup instead of mine.”

“Good,” you spat out, your heart clenching painfully though at his words. 

Slamming the door forcefully behind yourself you retired to your room, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

Things had never been easy between you and Negan, you had a natural chemistry but both being hot headed meant you clashed a lot…in the end resulting in your first tryst with your boss. 

 It was always hot and heavy between you two, both parties agreeing it would be easier that way, attachment wasn’t something either of you wanted. 

Besides Negan had a harem of wives if he wanted affection, to each other you were just an outlet, something to fill a sexual hunger. There were no soft kisses or gentle caresses. It was rough and animalistic and a means to an end. 

But somewhere along the lines for you had started to become blurred. Jealous would hit you if you saw Negan embracing one of his wives, showering them with ‘love’, or as much love as Negan was able to spread between five wives. You found yourself trying to draw out your fucking with him, holding out for as long as possible, knowing he’d never leave you unspent. 

It was your fault this argument had even happened, jealousy rearing its ugly head. You’d snapped at him for trying it on with you when you were trying to go over plans for the run tomorrow, and now here you were. 

Crying like a love struck fool on the floor of your bedroom, asking yourself how you got into this mess. Negan never cared for you, never did and never would, that was something you were trying to remind yourself of. Something you’d have to keep reminding yourself of.


“Rise ‘n’ shine!” Simon’s voice came bellowing through your door. “Up and atta’em sweetheart.”

You wrenched the door open scowling at your fellow saviour, “how many times have I told you not to call me that.” 

“What happened?” Simon asked quickly moving on the conversation, he was the only one who knew about you and Negan.

“Doesn’t matter,” you grumbled heading downstairs to grab some breakfast. 

“Lover’s spat?” he asked with a smirk and a raised brow earning him a hit to the chest. 

“Shut your mouth,” you hissed, sitting down with a bowl of stodgy looking oatmeal.

Simon raised his hands in surrender, “alright alright, touchy subject clearly.” 

You shot him one more warning look before scarfing down your food, gearing up for the day ahead.

By the time you got outside to the trucks Negan was already there, looking devilishly handsome, bat hanging from his shoulder. 

“Listen the fuck up,” Negan’s voice demanded, “I am not in a goddamn merciful mood today so we’ll be taking more then fuckin’ half of our suppliers shit. They kick up a fuss you know what the fuck to do.” 

Negan avoided your gaze as he address the group, all of you splitting off into separate trucks when he shouted to fall out.

As you reached the passenger side of your truck Negan reached the driver side of his, your eyes meeting for just a moment, his eyes void of any emotion. 

You wanted to cry all over again, but you wouldn’t, never in front of him. 

Even once you pulled away your head wouldn’t let you forget him, you needed to focus, although you knew that would be easier said than done…


“Move the fuck out of my way!” 

The voice registered to you, but barely. There was a god awful pain in your body but you couldn’t pin point where, everything hurt, you didn’t want to open your eyes.



You forced your eyes open, you wanted to see him, know that it wasn’t just in your imagination. 

“Negan,” you croaked as your eyes focused in the dimly lit room.

“Shh,” he soothed, a large hand cupping your face softly. 

This had to be a dream, Negan had never-

“I’m sorry, fuckin’ goddammit I’m sorry baby girl.” 

Baby girl? Good lord you must have been delusional.

“What- what happened?” you asked, attempting to sit up, yelping as a searing pain ripped through your side.

“Don’t move!” he cautioned, his hands so gentle against your frail body. 

“Where am I?” you questioned, eyes taking in your surroundings.

“Infirmary. It all went south at Hilltop, someone took a shot at you, went straight through your side,” Negan was speaking in a hushed voice, his hands enveloping yours. 

As he spoke the words things came back to you in bits and pieces. Someone wasn’t very happy about you taking more than your share, blindly took a shot to make his point, you ending up taking the brunt.

God it hurt like all hell, you felt like absolute shit but even now you couldn’t focus on that. All you could focus on was the man so tenderly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“Should’ve never let you go with Simon, should’ve kept you close,” Negan’s eyes were absent as he continued talking. “There was so much blood, fuckin’ never seen so much blood, doc told me you might not make it, I just- shit Y/N it scared the fuck out of me.”

He raised your hand to his lips then, pressing light kisses to each of your knuckles. 

“Negan I don’t understand…” you trailed off, because really you didn’t understand what the fuck he was doing or why.

“The thought of losing you,” he murmured, his serious gaze locking on yours, “it was like a slap to the face, tryin’ to pretend I don’t care about you Y/N, I can’t do it anymore.”

Your breathing picked up, you wanted to smile or cry or both. Negan didn’t vocalise feelings, not even with his wives.

“I know you care about me too,” he spoke quietly, “knew a long fucking time ago, should’ve stopped it then but I couldn’t, I wanted you in anyway I could have you, knew you’d never agree to become a wife.”

“Well you were right there,” you responded softly, “I couldn’t share you with that many women, that’s why what we had worked…until it didn’t.”

“Can I kiss you?” he asked suddenly.

You hesitated, it was a boundary that had never been crossed between the two of you, too up close and personal.

You nodded, you couldn’t live with the not knowing.

Standing up from where he was sat, Negan perched himself on your bed, letting his palm slide across your cheek, anchoring you to him as he leant forward. Your lips barely skimmed but it was enough to make you intake a sharp breath, snaking your hand around his neck, bringing forward until his lips were fully against yours.

Your heart was fluttering as you moved against one another, tilting your head left to get better access, a soft moan escaping you when he pushed his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues danced against one another, every movement unhurried and thought out. He sucked your lower lip into his mouth, swiping at it with his skilled tongue, biting it lightly before releasing it again. He pulled back gradually, not want to exert you when you weren’t well, kissing you quickly twice more.

He kept his face close to yours, your slender fingers still threaded through his hair, his thumb grazing across your cheekbone.

“I think we’re gonna be alright baby,” Negan murmured softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaving, allowing you to rest. 

I Always Knew [Part 2 of Please, Stay]

Part One is here!!

Imagine: Several months have passed since you and Newt have separated. Once reunited in an unexpected situation, neither of you can deny the feelings that were left behind.  

Word Count: 1574

Tagging: @blunish101 @once-upon-a-walking-wolf-demigod @awesomenessfeet @kindafantastic-kindabeasts @kissyjubz @hamilsyd704 @credence-peaches @thesweetestdaydreams @rock-n-magick @nerdypersongladiator @ohokaybyethen @jinxkatkazama @senpaipineapple

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for all the positive feedback for part one, I felt so much pressure with part two, I hope it’s as good as you were all hoping!! Also, thank you guys so so much for reblogging, liking and following me!! 921 followers ???? I’m so overwhelmed, I love each and every one of you!! P.S listen to ‘I Always Knew’ by The Vaccines while reading this, it made me smile and sort of cry. Enjoy x

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I just *slams fist on table* I want Jean and Kevin friendship goddamit

I do too, fam. Hopefully this will make up for yesterday’s angst fest. Enjoy!

Jean’s been out of the Nest for five years when he gets the call inviting him to the US court. He sits on the decision for two weeks before accepting, against everything he’d thought he would do when the call came. Exy is still the noose dangled loosely around his neck, but the simple fact that he has a choice is enough to tip him in the direction of yes. Besides, if there was anything he worked and bled for his entire life, it was his right to be on that team. So he packs up his things, gets on a plane with Jeremy and moves into the Olympic Village for the summer.

It’s an adjustment, meshing such a large group of talent into one cohesive team. He, Kevin and Thea are the only former Ravens, so while Jean doesn’t exactly relish the idea of being near the two of them all their palpable sexual tension, he flocks toward their sense of focus and organization. He and Thea always worked decently well together and he and Kevin fall back into their seamless communication faster than Jean would have expected. That being said, they don’t talk outside of practice. Jean sticks to the ex-Trojans and Kevin is attached to Josten and Minyard and it works.

The night before the opening ceremony, they have a day off to rest. Jeremy’s off sightseeing, so Jean decides to go find somewhere to get a drink. As luck would have it, Kevin’s there, sitting alone at the bar. Jean sits next to him and stares straight ahead, saying, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to find you here.”

Kevin takes another long sip. “I’m a little surprised to see you, though. You hate drinking.”

“I hate drinking bad alcohol,” Jean corrects, “Which you drink in abundance.”

“Pretentious,” Kevin shoots back.

“I’m European; of course I am.”

Kevin snorts and sips some more while Jean takes his drink from the bartender. Once he’s taken a drink, Jean says, “Where are your attachments?”

Kevin rolls his eyes. “Neil and Andrew kicked me out so they could fuck. And Thea is out, but I didn’t want to be with a lot of people.”

Jean nods. “It’s strange for you. Being here without him.”

And this was why Jean could never really push Kevin out, as hard as he tried. They would always understand each other in a way no one else could.

Kevin takes a deep breath and says, “I know how much you hated him. And me. And you have every right to…”

“But it was supposed to be the three of us here.”

Kevin nodded. When it fell silent, Jean sighed and said, “I don’t hate you, Kevin.”

Kevin looked at him and in as sincere an apology as Kevin could give, said, “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Jean finished the rest of his drink in a neat swig and said, “Come on. We’re going back to my room and doing something that normal friends do. I don’t know what that is, but we’ll figure it out.”

Kevin looked hesitant, but Jean cajoled him, saying, “Jeremy will be there later.”

That got Kevin moving, but Jean cautioned him, “He’s still my boyfriend.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t look,” Kevin mumbled, as though afraid Jean would call the whole thing off.

Jean just laughed raucously and said, “I forgot how fucking weird you are.”

Jeremy came back that night to find the two of them each with a bottle of wine watching a movie. He smiled and crawled in next to Jean. “I pick next movie.”

Mirrored Illusions || Jeonghan || Pt. 1

Pt. 1 //

Word Count: 1574

Genre: fantasy!au, super hero/villain!au, rewritten, angst, fluff, adventure

Summary: (rebooted from the old series) The Devil was created by man in man’s likeness. It’s an entity that captures the darkness, greed, anger, and hunger of humans, but is it really needed? If anyone asked you, you’d say no. To you, the Devil isn’t in Hell. The Devil lived here, on Earth. And Hell wasn’t a make believe place elsewhere. It was here too. And you lived in it.

There was nothing more sardonic about life than a bright blue sky, the sound of cheerful birds, and the scene of yellow caution tape blocking the entrance of a dark alley, the floor now covered in dried blood that some unfortunate soul will have to scrub up later. The rancid, putrid smell of a body that had been brutally torn up and already decaying in the blistering summer heat moved past the yellow caution tape and wafted down the streets, causing regular citizens to cover their mouths lest they wanted to lose their breakfast and their appetite for lunch.

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The Summer Soldier (Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader) - Part II

Originally posted by bobmorleyisking

Soldier keep on marchin’ on

Head down til the work is done

Waitin’ on that morning sun

Soldier keep on marchin’ on

Set from Age of Ultron in between with Civil War, The Avengers have new recruits in the team, many from the aid of Captain America. One of them happen to be you, The Summer Soldier, an unheard project of HYDRA. What the team doesn’t know won’t hurt them… But will open their eyes

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader (Platonic), Avengers x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Bleeding, Weaponry

Word Count: 4,952

Part I

Taglist: @redroomproperty @midnightreme @tvdplusriverdale @ravenclaw-geek24 @ladywitheclecticheart @priettierthanyou

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Mars transits through houses

Mars in the 1st House This is a very active period.High level of enthusiasm and energy, results will come easier than at other times of the year.

Mars in the 2nd House Good time to increase your income through a new project or venture. Good time for self-employment, although be sure to avoid any impetuous actions that could result in a loss of income.

Mars in the 3rd House Thrilling time, that can lead you to exhaustion.Try to stay calm.

Mars in the 4th House Domestic activities and home improvements will be important.Be aware of being impulsive, use caution when considering financial matters.

Mars in the 5th House Self-confidence is high and you will feel especially strong emotionally, this may lead to disagreements with those closest to you.

Mars in the 6th House Activities involving your work will be important at this time and this could lead to difficulties elsewhere as a result.Allow enough time for other areas of your life, or you may find relationships becoming strained.

Mars in the 7th House Period of uncertainty.You may think you’re being honest, but others may find your comments and observations offensive.This may be a time of miscommunication in relationships and you will need to concentrate on staying relaxed.

Mars in the 8th House You may feel yourself moving aggressively ahead, but using caution is important.Areas dealing with bureaucracy will cause you impatience.

Mars in the 9th House Great sense of forward thinking, and you will be overwhelmed with new ideas and enthusiasm.This is a good time to consider another job.

Mars in the 10th House Very active time, many goals will be realized.Take care that you don’t try to accomplish too much in a short amount of time, even though you have the every to do so.Pay attention to detail and be sure to include your family in a significant way.

Mars in the 11th House Social activities are pronounced, and you will find old acquaintances renewed, even as you make new friends.Additional pressures may be felt at work, and you should resist the temptation to share all of your thoughts with everyone you meet.

Mars in the 12th House Period marked by a lower energy level.Use this time for quiet reflection.There will be a preference to work independently on your own.

PTSD (Rogue one :: RebelCaptain)

@rebelcaptainprompts :: Prompt #14 SHOCK

Originally posted by eleveun

Gorgeous gif above by @eleveun


Jyn was huddled silently against the door to the medical wing. Her hands shook lightly as she pressed them against her knees bent close to her face. She sighed, a shaky, raspy breath. Her skin felt clammy and cold against her as she looked up at the lights reflecting off the bright walls.

They’d kicked her out.

She crossed her arms, hugging her legs. She pressed her forehead to her knees, closing her eyes.

Breathe… Calm down…

She let out another shaky breath.


Only a few hours before, She’d been on another planet. in another star system even. She’d been off the radar so to speak. Completely untraceable. She was assigned (with Cassian) on a top-secret mission. They’d been instructed fake identities, and they’d been undercover for almost an entire month. But.. something went wrong. Jyn wasn’t quite sure what.

They’d finally reached their goal, but in the heat of the moment, Cassian went into shock. Jyn had tried desperately to assure him and snap him out of it, but he’d seemed to have completely lost it.

Cassian? Cassian snap out of it!she shook his shoulders roughly, trying to make eye contact. His gaze was distant, and he stared out at the battlefield. He mumbled something to her, but she couldn’t make it out.


Suddenly he’d turned to her, raising his blaster and stumbling backwards. She stared into his dark eyes as he pointed his blaster straight for her heart.

Stop!” She rose her hands defensively, slowly stepping back. “Cassian… It’s me! Jyn!” She had to raise her voice to be heard over the battle. But it was no use. Cassian shot her shoulder. He’d missed her vitals, luckily, but she stumbled from the contact of the laser. He’d passed out less then five minutes later, and K-2SO had to help Jyn get him back to the ship.

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