no constriction is wrong

No strings attached (harry styles)

i’m working on part for forbidden but i was in the mood for angst harry so i felt like writing this. hope you like xx

Originally posted by inkedcross

contains angst


You couldn’t help it. He was always there and you couldn’t stop yourself from falling for him. He made you feel loved and happy. He made you feel wanted when his plush red lips would skim your body. He made you laugh over the most obnoxious things. 

You were falling for him. That was a big problem. 

You started off as just a hook up. The both of you agreed on having no emotional aspects of a relationship. Just sex. 

You had met him at a bar a few months back and immediately felt some kind of attraction towards him. Definitely a physical attraction. And you know he felt the same when you saw his sea green eyes swirling with lust as they scanned over your body, lingering a little too long on certain places. 

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Bad day

Summary: Virgil has a bad day. Fluff.

Pairing: LAMP (platonic or romantic).

Words: 1863 words.

Triggers/warnings: bad day.

A/N: This story is dedicated to everyone who needs to be cheered up, especially @fanfictionsideaccount, who is having a bad time, too. Although she says she deserves the things that are happening to her (I cannot judge that, because I don’t know her personally), I believe she also deserves to feel good from time to time. Hopefully, this fic can help with that. Laney, I hope you’re feeling better soon and don’t hesitate to reach out again, okay? ILY.


Everything was fine. He was fine. There was nothing wrong, nothing even remotely off. It was sunny outside, today was Thomas’ day off and their host was just doing own thing and enjoying the day. The sides had gathered in the commons of the Mind Palace, doing their own thing as well. 

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When shy meets shy (Bucky X Reader)


Title: When shy meets shy (Bucky X Reader)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Summary: After Hydra, Bucky became shyer than he ever was before. Until he meets someone even more bashful than he was. Could he help her rebuild her self-confidence? Make her believe she’s worth more than she thinks? And convince her he’s truly madly deeply in love with her?

Note: So this is a little something for @whotheeffisbucky who is having an especially hard time today. Know that you’ll always be loved for who you are! 

MASTERLIST

Bucky was a new presence in the Stark Tower. He was a quiet soul and kept to himself mostly. After the civil war between the Avengers, he couldn’t help the guilt that bubbled in him every time his eyes met his now teammates.

He wasn’t the only one in the tower that mostly kept to themselves. (Y/N) has been in the team for a good year and the other Avengers still didn’t see much of her aside from during missions.

Quiet people seem to notice each other and the two often noticed each others presence and little quirks every time they were in the same room.

During briefing sessions, Bucky would notice (Y/N) fiddling with the corners of her shirt when the conversation was directed at her.

In turn, (Y/N) notices how Bucky’s eyes avert away from people and stare at the tabletop when anyone in the team seemed to ask him for his opinion.

As time passes, Bucky couldn’t help himself but have his gaze fleet over to (Y/N) anytime he was out in the common area. He noticed how she tries to hide, make herself as scarce as possible, almost trying to let her 3-size too large sweater swallow her as the Avengers team chat up a storm.


Bucky was used to having (Y/N)’s quiet presence around. She tried to make herself invisible but to Bucky, she was all he could see in the rowdy common room during movie night.

Today, though, Bucky couldn’t spot the girl. He was settled at the far end of the couch, his usual seat, where he could have a completely unobstructed view of the room, a habit from his days as a soldier.

As the clock hits 9 PM, Bucky couldn’t help the frown that appeared on his face. He knew that (Y/N) was a creature of habit. She may not be too sociable but she never missed a movie night, not since Bucky joined the team.

“(Y/N) isn’t here.” Bucky gruff voice sounded and the noisy room was suddenly plunged into a pin-drop silence.

Bucky’s voice was rare and surprised the group of heroes. Wanda snapped from her reverie quicker than the rest and cleared her throat.

“(Y/N) said she isn’t joining us tonight. She’s tired and wants to rest early.” the redhead said with slight disappointment.

Bucky grunted in response and his frown deepened as worry pooled at his stomach. The team didn’t miss the look he sported.

“I’m… I’m just going to go. Uhm, goodnight guys.” Bucky said softly, his voice deep with uneasiness.

Trudging his way to the living quarters of the tower, his shoulders were slumped. Steve attempted to stand up and go after his friend but was stopped by Natasha.

“Let him be, Cap. He isn’t going back to his room,” she said with a knowing smile. Only to be met with Steve’s look of confusion.


The soldier paced back and forth (Y/N)’s room, footsteps unusually loud considering his training.

“Would you like for me to inform Ms. (Y/N) of your arrival, Sergeant Barnes?” FRIDAY’s voice filled the silent corridor causing Bucky to jump.

“Uh, well, um, if you would please. yes, thank you?” Bucky replied, still not used to speaking into thin air.

He straightened himself and bit his lip, mind whirring at what to say to the lady when she opened the door.

As his mind went into an overdrive, the door cracked open slightly, (Y/N) face coming into view.

Surprised at having a visitor, (Y/N) was at a lost and remained quiet, her wide eyes staring at the shy man in front of her.

“Uhh, hi, hey. I’m Bucky. Uh, well, no, I mean I am Bucky but you know that.” Bucky blabbered on, the tips of his ear a bright pink.

A small laughter bubbled out of the girl before she could stop herself. At the sound of her chuckle, both of them stopped short.

“Hi, Bucky. Is there anything I can help you with?” her soft voice asked, eyes trained on Bucky, a concerned gleam reflecting in them.

“I’m just, well, I missed… I mean we missed you at movie night.” Bucky said, louder than he intended due to his embarrassment.


From then, the two formed quite a special friendship. Their silence, shyness and need to stay out sight bonded them in ways no one really understood.

It was from then that Bucky slowly understood why the girl was so quiet and reclusive even if she was working with the world’s rowdiest bunch of heroes.

She lived in her head more often than not and that bright mind would have all sorts of thought whirring through. And eventually, the only thought left swirling around her mind were negative ones.

Her confidence crumbled as her thoughts got louder. She started questioning her looks, her abilities, her everything. And eventually she was so overwhelmed, she kept to herself and her thoughts.

Bucky was no stranger to gloomy thoughts. He had them regardless if he was awake or asleep. It was a fact the team knew. He understood how suffocating it could be to have your mind controlling your emotions.

The duo was lounging in the common room, books in hand as they sat together, shoulders bumping.

(Y/N) found solace in having Bucky around. It was almost as if her thoughts were on pause, and it was just Bucky and her.


“Doll?” Bucky called out, nudging her.

Without glancing away from her book, (Y/N) let out a small sound to acknowledge him.

“You’re beautiful you know?” Bucky said with a small contented sigh as he placed his head on her shoulder. Bucky was a man of few words after Hydra, he didn’t know how to make (Y/N) understand how he saw her, other than simply putting them in the most straightforward words.

The girl was caught off guard, her face flushing without control.


From then on, Bucky made it his mission to show (Y/N) just how perfect she was. If she couldn’t see it, Bucky would show her, he thought.

In the early mornings, he’d always compliment her wonderful cooking skills. If she wore her hair up, she was beautiful, if she wore her hair down, she was beautiful.

She could be wearing an oversized sweater and mismatched lounge pants and Bucky thought she was the most amazing girl he’s laid eyes on.

Bucky thought she was the most beautiful make-up free, a small contented smile on her lips, wearing her favorite shirt from Bucky as she talked animatedly about the latest book she read. And he’d tell her that, never missing an opportunity to let her know she’s perfect just the way she is.


With time, (Y/N) started accepting the compliments given to her. It was a good step forward. Until she walked into the meeting room that day.

Stepping into the room, she shifted her eyes to her usual seat next to Bucky and realized it was taken.

She wouldn’t have minded sitting elsewhere if it wasn’t that the girl sitting on the seat was the prettiest SHIELD agent (Y/N) has met.

Seeing Bucky and her talking animatedly, her self-esteem plummeted to nothingness and she bit back a sob, turned around and made her way out. She’ll explain to Steve later on as to why she missed the meeting.

What she needed now was her room, her bed, her own space.

Bucky noticed (Y/N) immediately when she walked into the crowded room. Confusion was etched on his face when she saw her face crumple as she turned and made her way out.

Without excusing himself from the agent speaking to him, ignoring Steve’s questions, he hurried out of the meeting room.

The more he thought, the more unsettled he got. Bucky broke into a run and disregarded taking the elevator.

Running up 3 floors, Bucky reached (Y/N)’s door and immediately heard sobbing from inside. His heart broke at her whimpers and immediately entered the passcode her knew by heart.

He took only 3 steps getting to her bedside, he pulled the girl towards him and hid her in his embrace.

“Doll?” his gruff voice laced with so much concern even (Y/N)’s heart constricted at the sound.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned further at her lack of reply.

Bucky pulled her lightly off his chest, now drenched in her tears. He took one look at her and cupped her face with his wide hands.

“What’s wrong beautiful? Talk to me.” he pleaded, eyes desperate for her to say something, anything.

“I’m sorry.” her voice was tired and soft.

“Why are you sorry sweetheart?” his confusion evident.

“I just, when I saw you with her, I just couldn’t help myself but see all my flaws. And what I don’t have or have too much that she doesn’t. She’s perfect. And I’m me.” (Y/N) whispered out.

“Oh, doll… Are you talking about whoever was sitting on your seat earlier?” Bucky asked.

She nodded lightly, her face now buried in his broad chest, seeking some form of comfort.

“I’m sorry doll. I should’ve stopped her from sitting at your seat but I was looking for you and didn’t notice when she sat down,” he explained.

Before (Y/N) could reply, he pulled the girl by her waist, hoisting her up onto his lap, his arms locking behind her to keep her in place.

“Now doll, everyone has flaws. I do. Steve does. So do Nat and Tony. I have metal for an arm, I’ve had my mind messed with most of my life and I still struggle from nightmares at 102. But our flaws are what makes us, us. And to me, everything about you, including your flaws, are perfect. Because it’s what makes you (Y/N).” Bucky said, his eyes never leaving her.

He moved a hand from her waist to her face, softly wiping away a stray tear.

I love you (Y/N).” he confessed softly.

“I really mean it. You’re beautiful even if you can’t see it. I can’t see myself as anything other than a murderer, but you see past that. You see James Buchanan Barnes, the man with flaws. But you still think I’m wonderful. So here I am, to remind you, that I see you, (Y/N) flaws and all. And I think you’re beautiful.” he whispered to her, as he landed a kiss on her lips.


Tagging: @itsanerdlife @buckysmusculararm @klaus-is-king @callamint @dryerpet @katbird787 @musichowler @captainfbffangirl99 @thatawkwardtinyperson @cassandras-musings @cleverwatson125 @universal-glitch @draconicuchiha @frickin-bats @smile-sugar @ryverpenrad @buckyywiththegoodhair @buckyappreciationsociety @17marvelousfreak @seeyainanotherlifebrotha @winchesterandpie @northscorpio @winter-is-ending  @feelmyroarrrr

Comments of any form are always much appreciated! Everyone is beautiful in your own way and if ti so happens to be one of those days where you can’t seem to find the beautiful in you, I hope this piece reminds all of you that you are wonderful and loved!

For my other writings, search “Ting writes” on my Tumblr!”

An angsty fic that no one asked for

(Because I’ve been watching some of my favourite movie scenes tonight, one of them being the powerful as fuck scene from Good Will Hunting, I felt like writing some abuse-victim!Murdoc. This can be interpreted as 2doc but also not. There’s just 2D comforting him and giving him a hug.)

WARNING: Contains mention and description of abuse.

Useless, that’s what you are, you little shitstain,” Sebastian’s voice was stern and Murdoc felt himself gripping at the hand that wrapped around his throat. It was unbelievable how tight it could feel around his neck, squeezing him so his tongue felt too big for his mouth. The last word echoed in his head, being repeated over and over again like some kind of chanting that made Murdoc’s skin crawl and the hand feel impossibly tighter. Nails were digging into his skin now and he felt tears form at the corners of his eyes, not able to help them stop from spilling down his cheeks. He wasn’t sure if the tears were from the choking or the feelings running through his body at the moment but he hoped to everything between heaven and hell that it wasn’t the latter. He knew better than not to shut everything off when his father’s drunken rage took over. His voice was heard again, “Useless and nothing more, couldn’t even earn me some goddamn money. All you had to do was play your part and start singing. I thought music was your passion?” Murdoc’s eyes widened as he felt his vision go blurry, suddenly seeing his father grow into a giant before him until he felt like an ant in his hand. The words were still repeating and Murdoc looked up to find himself standing in his father’s palm, fingers closing down over him like he had done to tiny and helpless bugs when he was a kid.

Murdoc sat up quickly, panting heavily and reaching for his throat. He looked around, concluding that he was in his bedroom, alone and not with his father anywhere near him. Still, it didn’t soothe him at all and his heartbeat didn’t calm down in the slightest.

It was the fourth time this week, and it was only Friday night, that he had woken up by nightmares. They had started already when he was a child but for some reason, they were becoming more frequent and vivid. He connected it to his decreasing amount of alcohol abuse, it might have started making his mind more clear. A couple of years ago, he would’ve been too drunk to even dream but now was different.

Murdoc bent his legs, resting his head on his knees and quietly counted to ten. He desperately wanted a drink, fingers twisting in the sheets at the thought of a nice glass of whiskey or rum. He breathed shallowly, closing his eyes but quickly opening them again as the picture of his father was still shown as a slideshow behind his eyelids, “Fuck…”

A knock was heard on the door and Murdoc lay down as fast a he could, clearing his throat, “Come on in.”

“Hey, can’t sleep?” It was 2D, leaning against the doorframe. He was still dressed, didn’t look at all as if he had been sleeping.

“Why do you ask?” Murdoc questioned, sitting up again and pulling the cover down to expose himself to the warm room.

“Bad dream?” 2D simply urged on and it was confirmed to Murdoc that he had heard him, how much noise had he been making? 2D tilted his head, “You were screaming again, just wanted to check on you. I brought you a glass of-”

“Whiskey?”

“…Water.”

“Fine, bring it over here.”

2D walked to the bed and held out a glass, that clearly was crizzling, filled with cold water from the tap. He handed it to Murdoc, who gulped a large amount of it in one go and then placed it on the bedside table.

“Thank you, Dents,” he said, looking anywhere else but at him. He swung his legs out over the edge of the bed, figuring that what he needed was to walk around for a little bit.

“What did you dream?” 2D asked before Murdoc could stand from the bed, moving back and forth on his heels. Murdoc looked up at him with a raised brow and stayed silent. 2D raised a brow in return, “Well?”

“Errh, my father,” he finally replied, losing eye contact with him, “You know how it is.”

“You never talk about him or the dreams so no,” 2D sighed, sitting down beside him.

Murdoc narrowed his eyes, reaching grab his lighter and pull a cigarette out of a package that laid on his nightstand. He put it to his lips and lit it, taking a long drag and then exhaled, “What is there to say? It’s just nightmares.”

“But is there anything you want to say?” 2D tilted his head, “It must’ve been.. difficult or somefink.”

“No.”

“Oh okay.”

There was a long pause, none of them saying anything at all. The only sound was the sound of Murdoc’s exhales as he smoked his cigarette, occasionally offering 2D a drag. Suddenly, Murdoc changed his mind and broke the silence.

“He beat me, 2D, he beat the everliving shit out of me, and I can’t stop seeing him in my dreams. He won’t leave me alone, and the cigarettes…” He remembered it all very vividly, how his father had humiliated him, blamed him for everything and put cigarettes out on his skin. Murdoc felt his throat constrict, causing him to swallow hard and feeling pathetic for rambling, “What’s wrong with me? Why did he hate me so much?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Muds,” 2D quickly interrupted, sitting down besides him, “Do you understand that? Nothing is wrong with you.”

“A lot of shit is wrong with me, don’t you fucking give me that crap,” Murdoc automatically pulled further away from him, there was no way 2D was getting to him in the middle of the night, “Don’t you try and tell me there isn’t.”

“Okay, there’s a lot of stuff wrong with you.”

“Sod off.”

“All I’m saying is… what he did to you, it’s not your fault.” The sentence made Murdoc’s stomach drop, and a weird feeling bubbled up inside of his chest.

“What? Don’t you think I know? He was a poor excuse for a human being, if he could even be considered that,” he huffed in response, hand running through his black hair.

“No, you don’t,” 2D said, turning towards him as Murdoc turned further away, “You don’t understand it, it’s not your fault, Murdoc.”

“What are you now? My therapist?” Murdoc snarled, the feeling spreading throughout his body. It felt like panic and he could feel his body tense up at the sudden emotion.

“No, Murdoc,” 2D soothed, reaching out for him but Murdoc flinched as if burnt, “Look at me, please. It’s not you and it’s not your fault. Never was and never will be.”

Murdoc turned towards him for the first time and his emotions, which had bubbled up inside of him, were released by pushing 2D hard into the wooden head of the bed. He whimpered, holding his shoulders tightly but otherwise didn’t show any new emotion. Instead, he sat up again and looked at Murdoc sympathetically, “Murdoc. You know I’m right, don’t you?”

Murdoc looked down, feeling tears well up his eyes and the worst part was that he had no idea how such a simple choice of words could have such an effect on him. He mostly blamed it on his loss of proper sleep, not wanting to admit what it really was; the first time someone had said such a thing to him.

“It’s okay,” 2D said and Murdoc felt a hand being placed on his back, “Muds, it’s okay to be angry, I know you are and I am too sometimes.”

Murdoc finally gave in to his touch and leaned into him, placing his head on his shoulder and felt all the emotional stress being released once again in just two minutes, “I’m so tired, Stuart, of everything.”

“I know, Muds,” 2D’s hand slowly ran up and down his back, “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s not okay,” he shook his head, suddenly feeling smaller than ever. Nobody ever said these things.

“I know, but it is what it is,” 2D continued, feeling  a wet patch form on his shoulder due to tears dripping onto his shirt, “And that’s okay.”

Murdoc could feel his whole body tremble in the singer’s arms and somehow it was okay, just for a moment, to be fucked up. 2D gripped at him and pushed him to sit again but before Murdoc could say anything to it, 2D had pulled him in for a hug and it was only then that Murdoc started crying for real. He sobbed, face in the crook of 2D’s neck and arms around his waist, and it was the best feeling he had had in years. The most real feeling in forever.

*

None of them were sure of how much time passed after that but Murdoc nearly fell asleep on him, making 2D squirm uncomfortably underneath him. When the singer tried to leave, Murdoc begged him to stay and 2D ended up sleeping on the floor. When they both were tucked in and ready to sleep, 2D smiled, “Don’t worry, Murdoc, I’m not gonna leave you.”

Call It Magic....

Fandom: Supernatural.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, minor angst.

Summary: Dean, troubled by nightmares, finds himself awake in the middle of the night, when an unexpected visitor shows up at his door. Y/N tries to help pacify his nerves by singing to him.

Soundtrack: Magic by Coldplay.

                                                   ~*~*~*~
“Dean?” she stuttered.

The elder Winchester stayed down, his eyes shut tight from the brutal dark of his bedroom. The lights were off, the only illumination coming in from the moon in little beams of light that managed to slip in through the partings in the drapes, drawing squiggles of tree branches on the carpeted floor.


He lay still, waiting, hoping, that she would think he was asleep and leave, but she didn’t. He could feel that she was still at the door—the light from the hallway was pouring into the room in one thin passage as wide as the doorframe. Y/N’s shadow cut into it in the middle. She tried again.


“Dean?” she said in a timid tone that sent spears through the elder hunter’s heart. Jesus, he thought, she was afraid of him. He could hear it in her voice—the tremble, the quaver. She spoke in a raspy tone that sounded like she’d been crying and had just stopped midway to come check up on him. And now that Dean mulled it over, he realized that that was probably exactly what had happened.


She had probably heard him all the way from her bedroom. Then, she had probably gotten out of bed, to check on him, and now she was probably not going to leave until he spoke to her.


Dean felt tense all over, his throat tight, barely managing to get the words out.


“Yeah.” He said hoarsely. He winced—his voice was far from normal, scratchy and pained.


He waited patiently for Y/N to say anything. After a long pause, she finally did.


“You’re awake?” she asked. The edge was still present in her voice.


Dean nodded. “I am now.”


He pushed himself up to sit, groaning as he did so. Fully upright, he then turned his head to the door where she stood, the light from the hallways outlining her as nothing but a silhouette. Dean realized there was no point in searching for comfort in her gaze—he couldn’t even find it. It was too dark.


Silence fell.


Both parties waited for the other to speak up, the tension only growing thicker and thicker, causing the elder Winchester to wish he hadn’t even gotten up. Regret instantly flooded him. He parted his lips to speak, to say something that would ward her off, but she cut him off.


“C-can I come in?” she asked, voice wavering. The elder Winchester winced at this. God, she was so scared.


Of him.


Dean had to force the words out of his mouth. “Y-yeah. Sure.” He said, turning so that his entire body was facing her. He saw her nod, then slowly make her way into the room. He couldn’t say he didn’t notice the way she sauntered towards him; cautious, calculated footsteps.  The closer she got, the faster Dean’s heart began to beat, thumping against his ribcage. He could feel his palms begin to sweat in anxiety—what if he hurt her?


Her entire body was stiff as she came over and then sat down. The bed dipped at the foreign mass.


Dean looked up.


Y/N’s eyes never met his, instead staying fixed to the floor as she twiddled with her thumbs in her lap. Discomfort radiated off her like steam from a kettle, and this made Dean slightly queasy. For he knew it was because of him; because of what he was becoming.


For the past few nights his sleep had been ridden with carnal and frightening nightmares that shook him awake, usually in a fit of tears. They’d been happening on and off and on and off for the past two weeks, and he’d managed to hide them. No one in the house knew—Sam was too busy dealing with the mess within his own head, and Cas was never home anymore, heaven’s operations occupying his mind instead.


And Y/N…

Well, Dean didn’t want to bother her with his inhibitions. She had enough of her own to deal with.


No-one knew. It had been his dirty little secret, shuttered and hidden away from the world. But that was until a few nights back when Y/N, wandering the halls at unholy hours, stumbled upon his room, and found the elder Winchester writhing and stirring in his sleep, brow draped in sweat. He had had his eyes clamped shut, the sheets sodden with his perspiration, as he grunted and gasped. Terrible images too cumbersome for him to swallow were flooding his mind, painting blood on the insides of his head. Everything was red. When Dean gasped awake all of a sudden, sitting up straight in a pool of his sweat, his eyes had immediately landed on Y/N standing behind the crack in the door.


She had seen him.


And then as fast as she came, she quickly dispersed, a mere shadow in the night that had the elder Winchester questioning whether he had been dreaming it up. After all, it wouldn’t have been the first time. Y/N had paid Dean visits in his dreams numerous times—saving him. Being his lifeguard that brought him back to reality.


He hadn’t spoken to her about it until breakfast this morning when he’d noticed how antsy she’d been acting, the elder Winchester having asked her for a glass of juice and her flooding his glass past the brink until it started leaking onto his hands. She hadn’t even noticed until she saw the orange pool of mango juice on the floor upon Sam’s regard. She’d then immediately cursed herself, placed the pitcher down, and gone grab a cloth, all the while ignoring the elder Winchester’s gaze.


But Dean had noticed.


He’d noticed the tremble in her voice when she spoke to him, the way her eyes darted from left to right whenever he looked straight into them, or even just the way she kept her distance when they walked together. Even now, the elder Winchester couldn’t deny the hurt he felt in his heart when he noticed the three foot gap she had left between them when she sat down.


But still, she was here. Right here, right now, putting in an effort to coax Dean out of his shell and tell her what it was that was bothering him. That at least made a difference—right?


“You should be sleeping.” She said quietly, bringing the elder Winchester whirling out of his head.


He shifted his gaze from the floor to her. The light from the hallway was still coursing into the room, blaring bright from behind Y/N’s shadowed form. Dean had to squint to keep it from searing his retinas, but didn’t dare look away from her.


“Yeah, I know.” He nodded. “I just…I couldn’t get any sleep. I’ve been trying for the past ten minutes or so but…” The green-eyed hunter gestured in the air with his hands. “Nothing.”


Y/N nodded, almost mechanically.


There was a beat of silence. Dean was still watching her, trying to make out any feature of her face, trying to grip onto the reality that she was here and not just another part of his dream, but the lack of light in his room kept him from that. Y/N’s face was pitch black, only the outline of jaw and hair falling down her shoulders any indication that it was her. A moment later she spoke.


“I know what you mean.” She stated with a sigh as she shifted further up the bed, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. Dean heard the sheets move with her. Y/n’s head bobbed up and down as she spoke. “Yeah, I do. I’ve been trying to catch some sleep myself but…but there’s something keeping me from it. Some…unrest, I guess I could call it?”


“Join the club.” He  jerked his chin at her, causing her to look down at herself, wiggling her toes as if testing the air itself. Noticing this, his brow furrowed.“Are you cold? You’re practically shaking.”


She shrugged. “I feel pretty fine.” Turning her head to Dean, she asked, “Are you?”


“Not entirely, but yeah.” He moved his shoulders, “Yeah, a little.”


“Big bad hunter can’t handle a little cold?” The outlines of her cheeks expanded as she smiled.


“Shut up.”


“Is that why you can’t sleep?” She asked suddenly.


Then Dean quieted.


A somber silence hang between them, ominous and tense. Reluctantly, he spoke.


“No,” all humor his voice once held a few seconds ago dispersed. “…it….it isn’t.”


Y/n pressed on. “So…?”


The elder Winchester’s ears then perked up at the change of tone. He slowly turned to Y/N, his gaze adamant on her masked face. Even though he couldn’t see it, he could still feel it—her sharp gaze piercing though him.


“So what?” he asked, voice sharp, but it was as though Y/N didn’t hear, or frankly care, about his brashness.


“So, if not the cold, what’s been keeping you awake?” She asked. And he could feel it hovering over them like an anvil on a thin string, threatening to tear. There was no point hiding it. He needed to come clean.


A sigh eluded him as he lamented on his thoughts, on what to say. What could be said? What could explain and justify the oddity that was his behavior in the past few days? Nothing. He grasped for words, but it was like trying to catch handfuls of the wind. Useless.


Another sigh. Another shameful bow of the head.


And then a hand on his shoulder.


Tender. Hesitant. Slowly caressing his arm through the fabric of his shirt. Dean turned to look and found Y/N’s eyes, practically glimmering in the darkness, set on his very own.


“Dean…”She  whispered, voice hoarse, making the elder Winchester’s heart wrench. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? Please…please tell me what’s wrong.” She pleaded.


Dean’s chest constricted as he looked away, guilt marring his features. “Y/N…”


“Stop trying to be such a tough guy, will you? I’m trying to help you.”


“I know.”


“So spill.”


He wordlessly shut his eyes as Y/N’s hand floated from his shoulder, tucking away at her side. And his heart tangled, and his throat dried, and he felt his resolve crumble before her because it was Y/N and Y/N was good.


The only good in his life.


A guiding light in the pitch black world. He loved her. Wanted her. He wanted to be there for and with her, to plunge thick roots of affection into rich black soil, and he wanted to let vines of trust twine around her, and he wanted her to love him back.


And so, after a moment of hesitation, biting his lip and scraping his callouses and breathing, Dean spoke.


Y/N waited patiently, hands folded in her lap. The room was still dark. He was still wrought with nerves, as he let out a laden sigh, and then….


“I’ve been having nightmares.” He announced. “About you, about Sam and Cas and all of you…dying.” Dean’s eyes shut, and he tried to steady his breathing.


Y/N pressed his shoulder firmly, urging him on with a sad smile.


He looked at her, then sighed. “I…I’ve been trying to ignore them. Hide them, but…”


“It’s hard?” Y/N supplemented.


The elder Winchester nodded. “Yeah.”


Just like that. Like it was so easy. Like it hadn’t been a weight on his heart soul for eons, and as though vocalizing it didn’t send a surge of weakness through him. Waiting for her to say something, the elder Winchester finally lifted his gaze to the girl beside him, finding her still there.


Still with him.


Still good.


They sat, quiet. Wordless. For a moment the world had seemed to stop….but then Y/N reached out, and she took Dean’s hand, and—with trembling and cold hands—she placed it against her warm cheek.


And he disintegrated.


“It’s okay…”She cooed, tone soothing and mellifluous. It was sweet, calming. Like the pitter patter of rain against the roof of a car.


The elder Winchester remained stagnant, frozen by her actions. What was he supposed to do in a situation like this? What was he supposed to say?


Nothing, Dean realized after a while.


This moment was sacred. Untouchable. Y/N was saying something, something mollifying and holy, something gentle and good just like her, but Dean was too busy focusing on the rapid hammering in his chest to focus on her. Eventually, she stopped talking and looked up at him, with expectant eyes.


“Dean?”


The elder Winchester snapped out of his trance, averting his gaze to Y/N’s. Smiling. She was smiling at him, gentle and re-assuring, and he found himself wondering how somebody could bear so much grief and despondence in their lives, and stay so intact?


How she could witness Dean’s walls crumble like ruins, how she could have her very own demons stirring in her chest, and yet she could be so…there?


Simpering still, Y/N squeezed his hand.


“Listen to me.” She said. “You are going to be okay, okay? Everything is going to be fine—great. Because I’m not letting go of you. I’m not going to let you go through this—this….mess, on your own. I’m going to be there. Always.”


Another squeeze.


Another jolt of limerence.


Dean watched Y/N’s eyes filling with tears. A contrasting image with the smile on her lips, but he knew not to say anything. Only feel. Only understand.


She would be there for him, and that was enough.


He nodded in response, and Y/N let out a small chuckle. “Good.” She smiled as her hand went up to wipe her eyes. She had been crying, Dean just realized as her hand dropped back onto her lap.


He felt ultra-violet as they sat there, in comforting silence. A moment passed until Dean finally gathered the courage to fit his other hand in Y/N’s, pressing his palm flat against hes. She said nothing, merely accepting wordlessly when he did it. He was grateful. The last thing he needed her to do right now was speak, say something that would push him further down the rabbit hole than he already was.


He was too far gone, anyway.


Too in love. Yes, he’d admit it—he would shout it in the halls of an empty church, whisper it in the confines of his room alone at night, whenever he needed the re-assurance.


He loved her.


The space between his fingers felt static, electric, as Y/N kneaded their hands together and eventually started to hum. As she did this, she swayed side to side subtly, entranced.


Opposite her, Dean listened carefully, religiously, trying to deciphering the song. A familiar melody. He’d heard it before, he realized, and tried to remember when.


“I know that song.” He finally spoke.


Y/N’s eyes must have opened, as she stilled. The flash of pearly white teeth gave away her smile.  “Magic.” She said. “By Coldplay. I’ve played it for you before, tons of times in the car.”


“It’s a great song.”


“Do you want me to play it for you now? I have it on my phone.” Y/N offered, rubbing her fingers against the back of Dean’s palm. He thought about it, but then tilted his head to the side slightly.


“Why don’t you sing it for me?” He asked, watching as, taken aback, Y/n froze, then scoffed as though it was too incredulous of a proposal.


“Me?” She let out a sardonic laugh. “Sing?”


“I’ve heard you sing before. You’re not half bad. “ He had. Numerous times, by accident—when she was in the shower, when she was cooking breakfast. Y/N sang a lot more than she thought she did, and every time he’d stumbled upon her in a serenade, the elder Winchester would listen closely and revel.


He tugged on her hands, smiling softly. “Come on, Y/N.”


“No way.”


“Please.”


“No…” Y/N blushed as she dipped her chin into her neck shyly, her hair forming a curtain around her face. It was too dark to see, but Dean could just tell the hade of pink that the tips of her ears were, and it made him chuckle.


“Fine…”He said after a while. “I’ll start, and then you finish off. How does that sound?”


Her head immediately lifted. “What?”


But the elder Winchester said nothing. Instead, he tightened his hold on her hands, pulled them closer in, and began to sing.


The first two or through lines flowed easily out of his mouth until they eventually dissolved into a simple hum. He didn’t know the words. True, Y/n had played the song before, but memorizing lyrics had never been something that he was good at. So, Dean just mumbled.


When he heard the sound of amused giggles, he felt a smile stretch onto his face. He went on some more. Then Y/N joined him.


She actually sang. Quietly, shyly, like the words were mechanically being drawn out of her and with her head bowed slightly. But still—she was singing.


And Dean, feeling his heart stutter in his chest, tried his best not to kiss her as she did.


Eventually, his voice melted away, and it was only the soft soprano of the young girl before him filling the room. Outside, the cricket’s joined in with their midnight symphony. Wind howled wildly as an undertone. Y/N’s shoulders loosened as she began to sing with more ease, the former tension in her joints dissolved.


She kept leaning forward. Closer and closer, like there was a magnetic field drawing her in as she sang. She was inches away, still singing, repeating herself. The hammering in Dean’s chest never ceased. Eyes half-lidded, Y/N kept on singing and leaning in.


He moved closer in, like she was a siren leading him into the waters with her melodic voice. He could feel her breath fan his face. Inches apart. Still singing. Still good.


Their foreheads met, and they stayed like that.


Y/N’s voice slowed to a stop as she breathed in heavily, and fluttered her eyes open. Their gazes locked.


Dean felt his throat constrict, gulping thickly, feeling the heat spread through his body like wild fire. “Go on.” He urged, as she watched him wordlessly.


His eyelids felt like bags of sand, heavy, desperate to shut, but he refrained. He couldn’t, not now; not when they were this close, this synchronized. Not when his chest felt like it held a thousand caged doves wildly batting their wings against his ribs; not when Y/N’s eyes were darting down to his lips, and then back up at his eyes.


She lifted his hand, placed it against her cheek, and the elder Winchester gulped. Warm, smooth. He rubbed his thumb against the apple fo her cheek as Y/N’s hand slipped away, leaving only his. His stomach was in knots, much like his heart, and he felt intoxicated. Drunk. He wanted to kiss her, he needed to kiss her.


Y/N said something; his name, he soon realized, and the fluttered her eyes shut, tipping her head back. Still caressing her cheek, Dean couldn’t hold it in anymore.


He dipped his head, and captured her lisp in a kiss.


Disintegrated.


At the contact of Y/N’s mouth on his, the elder Winchester felt his entire being float so high up, like it was leaving his body. He’d let it. He didn’t care. All he cared about was Y/N, in his arms.


Kissing him.


He nipped and licked at her bottom lip, his hand carding through her hair as her hand left his and fisted his shirt. Dean felt a jolt of pleasure surge through him. He kissed her more. Harder. Like she was filling his lungs with air rather than stealing it away. Why had he waited so long to do this? Why had he avoided it, tiptoed around it? Feeling her lips graze against his, Dean felt stupid for not doing this earlier.


When they broke apart, he glanced down at her with half-lidded eyes, mouth still parted. She was gasping, her chest rising and falling. “Y/N….”The elder Winchester managed, the smell of peaches of and honey potent around him. “…I…I love you…”


The young girl blinked up at him, doe-eyed, before a smile cracked through her face. A giddy laugh escaped her, and she threw her arms around his neck.


Dean, taken aback caught her, feeling her form pressed against his. He was sure, with the proximity between them zero to none, she could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel hers.


Letting his eyes shut, he cradled Y/N in his arms as she smiled and spoke. “I love you, too.”

~*~*~
It’s been a while since I posted any Supernatural writings, so here..((ps. sorry for the shit ending I tried :))) ))

If you enjoyed this, show some love and like, reblog, or follow to keep updated when I post something new. I write for numerous fandoms, predominantly SPN and DC/Marvel, so if you’re a fan, then you’re in luck ;))))

Have a nice day!

As It Seem: Chapter 13

Table of Contents

Según Parece: Lista De Contenidos

Summary: The reader reacts to Dean’s bombshell from the end of last chapter

Word Count: 3103

Warnings: Depression, slight suicidal thoughts

Beta’d by: @kclaire1 te quiero!!

PREVIOUS CHAPTER


~Reader’s POV~

I was going to ask you to marry me.

I don’t know if Dean could see the way his words completely knocked the air out of me, but he kept nervously talking and my brain was scrambling to keep up with his words while it processed that confession.

Marriage?

“I know, it’s crazy. Especially over there. I mean, we’re both technically legally dead. We’re both hunters. It’s not like we would be married long before one of us died, probably. Stupid idea. But I just… every time I saw you, I knew that I wanted something more. I just—”

He cut himself off and took a deep breath which gave me a second to prepare myself, but I had no idea how to prepare myself at all. He had completely thrown me off balance with his declaration. And when his eyes opened again and bore into my very soul, I saw a conviction there that scared me.

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lclb13  asked:

Aww ok! Well how about a one shot where y/n and Luke have a one night stand which led to her getting pregnant ?

Seen as I’ve done a lot of one-shots recently about revealing pregnancies to Luke, I decided to do something a little different with this one. I hope you enjoy it <3

A Hand to Hold

Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Luke Alvez x Reader
Prompt: Request

Description: It was only meant to be one night of passion, but you ended up getting more than you bargained for after a one-night stand with Luke.

“How far along are you?”

“Five months.” You smiled softly as your hand caressed the growing bump under your shirt. Squeals of excitement echoed around the room as your co-worker babbled about how delighted she was for you and how you must be looking forward to finally meeting the tiny baby growing inside you.

Of course, you were dying to meet your son or daughter – the thought had been dominating your mind more than ever recently. But, you were also secretly terrified. It wasn’t just the worry of pregnancy or labour either. It was what came afterwards. Taking care and looking after a baby, helping them grow into a child was petrifying.

The circumstances of you becoming a mother also weren’t the ones you had dreamt about. You were single, your baby a result of a one-night stand.

Too much alcohol and emotional stress being the main reasons for your predicament. Luke had been grieving a case that had ended badly and you nursing drinks to try commiserate a tough day at work. It had been out of character for you both – you had assured him of that even the next awkward morning.

After exchanging pleasantries and embarrassed blushes you had said goodbye, never expecting to see each other again. But two months later you found out the terrifying news that had changed your life forever. You were pregnant.

At first it felt like the most horrific news, but you soon realised that it could be the greatest gift. You had always imagined having children – definitely not like this – but what was ever perfect in life? Besides, you resolved that it didn’t matter how he or she came to be, your child was here now and that’s all that mattered.

Besides, you weren’t doing it alone.

Your gaze travelled down to your phone to read the text message Luke had sent earlier that morning. It was only a casual greeting, just checking up on you. But, it still meant a lot that he cared.

It seemed bizarre to think that you had hesitated in sharing the news with him, worried how badly he would react. He definitely hadn’t signed up to be a father. He didn’t even know you. But, once you had summoned up the courage to tell him, he had been nothing but supportive.

Of course, you had told him there was no pressure at all. You didn’t need a man in your life to get through this. But he had insisted that this was his responsibility too and that he would be there for the both of you. He had even made an effort to be there for every appointment and scan – despite his crazy job.

When you had brought up the topic – genuinely curious as to why he seemed so unlike what you had come to expect from men – he had simply replied that this was his child as well. It didn’t matter how it happened. The fact that his little boy or little girl was going to arrive in four months was all that counted.

A soft smile spread across your face at the memory of the tiny teddy bear he had presented to you last week at the scan. His sheepish grin as he handed it to you, explaining that he had wanted to buy your baby their first gift, had frankly been adorable.

A buzz on your phone told you that he was asking about the time for your appointment today. You groaned slightly as you realised you had left your diary over in the conference room. You were only five months gone but it was definitely getting harder to move around and the constant exhaustion wasn’t helping.

You stood up…perhaps a little too quickly.

Your vision spun as you clutched your head in your hands, desperately trying to compose yourself. Everything went blurry as your breathing became laboured. You held out your hand in an effort to grab onto your desk, but it was in vain.

There was nothing you could do to halt your fall as your legs gave out, gasping heavily as you collapsed to the floor.


All you could hear was a soft bleeping and all you could see was pitch blank darkness. There was a soft voice nearby, murmuring soothingly and a gentle hand brushed against your forehead. Your eyelids flickered as you struggled to open your eyes, they felt so heavy.

The white ceiling and unfamiliar surroundings caused you to panic.

“You’re in the hospital. Everything’s okay.”

You would recognise that gruff voice anywhere.

“Luke?” You glanced around at him in confusion, your eyes begging him to tell you what had happened.

Your throat constricted as you recalled your fainting episode. What if something was wrong with the baby?

Tears welled in your eyes at the prospect of you losing your child. The fear robbing your ability to speak.

“Hey, hey don’t cry.” Luke murmured softly, pulling you into his arms protectively as he rubbed your back soothingly. “You’re fine. The baby’s fine.”

You choked out a sigh of relief at his words. Letting your head rest against his chest, your tears staining his shirt. But he didn’t seem to mind.

He pressed a comforting kiss on your temple as his hands drifted to trace relaxing patterns down your arms.

“The doctor said you were just tired and that you should try to take it a little easier.” His warm breath ruffled your hair as he spoke. “You gave me quite the scare when I called you to ask about the appointment and a doctor picked up to tell me you had collapsed and been admitted to hospital.”

The concern in his voice was touching. Your cries finally subsided completely as your body relaxed under his touch.

You never would have expected yourself to be so upset at the thought of losing the baby – nor would you ever have saw yourself sobbing into the arms of your one-night stand – but in that moment, you realised how much you actually cared.

Your mistake had been the greatest one you had ever made.

“Do you need anything?”

You shook your head slowly, leaning back into the pillows as he finally released you from his hold – apparently satisfied that you had calmed down. You exhaled a shaky breath as you tried to compose yourself, wiping away the tears from your cheeks determinedly.

“Do you have to go back to work?” Your faint voice betrayed your emotions, the ordeal had seemingly drained all your strength. Luke gave you a reassuring smile as he reached out to gently take your hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours.

“I’m right where I need to be.”

Your lips curved into a small smile as he ran his thumb soothingly across the back of your hand, prompting you to squeeze his gently.

You weren’t alone.

Young Love (Part III)

[A/N] I think we can all agree I’m fucking late, but hey I passed all my classes… Have fun y’all

[Part I] [Part II]

Namjoon x Reader
Werewolf AU
3588 words

You didn’t try to move away from the creature this time, too shaken to get your legs to work. It stepped into the light and stared almost reluctantly at you, its ears, pointy and on the top of its head, twitched while you whimpered at the sight. […] You had stayed in the path, had tried your best to not be a victim, and somehow ended up at the mercy of the big bad wolf.

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anonymous asked:

Quiobi + Obi-Wan wearing lingerie?

“This is absolutely ridiculous.” Obi-Wan sighed loudly.

“Its custom.”

“Its the strangest custom ever. New ceremonial underwear?” Obi-Wan huffed.

“I don’t know about that, I’ve encountered worse. And it feels rather nice.” Qui-Gon mused and Obi-Wan shot him a look, raising both eyebrows in surprise.

“Then I think you got a different sort then me. Mine just itches.” The padawan sighed.

“Silk.” The older man chuckled deeply and tilted his head at his counterpart. “Why? What did you get?”

“Lace and silk but its constricting and I think its riding up my ass.” The redhead complained and Qui-Gon had to hide his smile for a few moments, composing himself as best he could. Then he gave a low hum. “Obi-Wan…tell me…did you get boxers? Or briefs? Or was yours…different?”

The other colored sharply and Qui-Gon’s eyebrows rose sharply.

“I see…you did get something different didn’t you. Was there more then underwear?” He asked in intrigue and Obi-Wan bit his lip, staring at his feet.

“I’m not wearing it. Its…I’m not wearing it.”

“Obi-Wan…”

“Its a camisole!”

Qui-Gon swallowed his tongue at that word. Or something close to it at least as he imagined the other in a silky little underthing and a camisole. “…Satin or silk, what color?”

Oh if Obi-Wan had been squirming before it was nothing against what he was now, hands tucked into his sleeve as he hopped from foot to foot like a nervous bird, face flushed deep pink. “Sheer silk in green.” He muttered.

Okay, Qui-Gon had something to work with there as he slowly tilted his head, staring at his padawan, imagining him in sheer green silk. It would certainly compliment his hair and eyes and do a well match to his fair skin depending on the color of the green. A sheer light green perhaps?

“Are you sure you won’t wear it Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon rumbled, taking a step towards the younger man and Obi-Wan looked up quickly, startled before his eyes widened as he took out the others expression.

“You…you want me to wear it? You’re not going to laugh?”

“Oh, I’m not going to laugh.” Qui-Gon gave a husky little chuckle and cupped the others chin with his fingers, stroking the cleft lightly with his fingertip. “I’m liable to do a lot of other things though.

“O-Oh?” Obi-Wan questioned shakily, leaning into the touch.

“Well, silk can feel…very nice below the hands and against skin”  Qui-Gon caress the dip slowly, not wanting to push Obi-Wan, the physical part of their relationship was still new and he certainly didn’t want the other to feel forced to wear it for him. “But only if you’re comfortable about it Obi-Wan.”

Hesitating a bit, Obi-Wan peered up at him. “You’d really like it? I mean…I just felt weird about it because I didn’t want you to laugh at me.”

“Oh Obi-Wan, I’d never laugh at you.” Qui-Gon leaned in and kissed him on the forehead.

“That’s not true.”

“Alright, I’d never laugh at you over something you feel insecure about.” Qui-Gon amended, knowing he had laughed at Obi-Wan a few times.

“I guess if you swear you won’t laugh…and if we have time.”

“We still have two hours until we meet with the diplomats.” Qui-Gon checked the chrono just to be sure.

“Okay…wait here.” Obi-Wan headed for the quarters assigned to the padawan. Neither he or Qui-Gon had felt the need to inform that they’d only need one bed since separation was sometimes good for both of them. Just time to tinker with their own things.

Qui-Gon breathed out and then sat down on the couch, sprawling lazily as he did and tilting his head towards the ceiling, watching it as he tried not to imagine Obi-Wan undressing…yeah not working, was totally thinking about the imp undressing.

Deep breaths, no need to get overexcited just yet.

“Qui-Gon?”

He looked quickly over to the unsure voice and stared.

Oh Force, control Qui-Gon you old dog.

Obi-Wan looked divine, dressed in a sheer pale forest green camisole with the upper ties dark and tied together with a bow in the front and thin straps over the pale shoulders. The underwear was the same but Qui-Gon noted it was to tight, barely keeping everything together.

“…Come here?” He questioned softly, smiling as Obi-Wan moved to stand in front of him.

He lifted his hand, looking up for permission before resting his large hands on the narrow hips, rubbing lightly. “You’re right, constricting, I think its the wrong size for you Obi-Wan.” The Master Jedi rumbled, eyes on the silky panties. “No wonder its riding up but the camisole…” He glanced up at Obi-Wan as he ran his hands up the others side, rubbing the silky fabric against the others skin. “Is perfect.”

“O-Oh.” Obi-Wan shivered before he let Qui-Gon guide him into his lap, making a low noise at how it made the underwear shift.

“We got two hours Obi-Wan, lets see if we can’t do something…interesting.”

“I like that idea Qui-Gon.” Obi-Wan pressed closer as the thumbs slid beneath the panties and started to push them down. “I like that idea a lot.”

anonymous asked:

Harvey and Donna pre work morning sex.

“Worth It”

Harvey spent the better part of the night tossing and turning, unable to succumb to sleep despite his current level of exhaustion. He just couldn’t, not with their recent fight looming over his head. He sighs as he turns to look over her sleeping form, curled into the far end of her side of the bed, back facing him.

Guilt stays rooted in him that morning, watching how the light of the waking sun showers her body in a warm glow, her auburn hair gleaming as it cascades down her clothed back.

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Atonement VI

Masterlist
<– Part V | Part VII –> 

Au: Horror / Gore (non canon)
Genre: Violence / Angst
Characters: BTS + Reader
Wordcount: 2484
Warnings: Knives, blood, self mutilation (self harm), major character death, fainting, angst, bruises, pain. 
A/N: number 4 … well … tbh i’m still sad about Jungkook :(  definitely let me know if you’re liking this series guys!


Without another word, everyone passed into the next room, leaving Jungkook behind. It hurt, it felt wrong, your chest felt constricted and you tried your best to stop crying. Namjoon’s hand was on your lower back, guiding you into the dark of the room.

“Where’s the light?” Yoongi asked, and you yelped when he bumped into you. “Shit, sorry.”

You grabbed for him, hand finding purchase on his chest. “It’s okay.”

Originally posted by the-rap-man

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Baby Come Home (10/?)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: Swearing

A/N: You were apart of The Avengers, in love with Captain America and suddenly everything is different. Two years later, you’re engaged to a man named Ryan and telling yourself you’re over Steve Rogers and The Avengers, but that might not be the truth. When your secrets start coming to the surface, you have to face the reality that you’ve been trying to bury for two years. Will you say I Do picturing Steve’s face or will you come to your senses and face what’s staring back at you?

(Steve POV in some places, italics are flashbacks)

@chrisevansthedoritobastard   @holahellohialoha  @almightyunnie @iwillbeinmynest  @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @castielohcastiel   @irepeldirt  @yourtropegirl  @bellejeunefillesansmerci @shamvictoria11   @hellomissmabel  @summerbummer2001  @captainsteverogerslover



Originally posted by blackinjustice


“Miss Potts needs you, she said it’s urgent.” Lisa’s voice comes through the speaker from the phone on your desk. Looking around confused, you flip close the seat chart you had been working on, standing up and heading out of your office.

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It took me a long time to be confident in my identity. I spent so many nights telling myself that this was just a phase and I would grow out of it. That I would wake up the next morning feeling ridiculous for even humoring the idea that I was anything other than a girl. And I think part of that stemmed from my self-esteem issues. I used to second guess every thought I had and I didn’t think I was good enough. I couldn’t accept myself before I began to question my gender so there was no way I could accept this new part of me.

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Of Legacies and Overdue Books (Hamliza)

Pairing: Hamliza

Warnings: No swearing but somebody told me this was really sad.

Word Count: 1672

AN: So this was inspired by a post on here, and I started it awhile ago. I finally got an idea for it, so here it is.

Tags: @the-and-peggy @hamlltvn @beautifulfound @fandomsinabookshelf @plamspringsdancingontables @hamwriters


When John had died years earlier of a gunshot wound to the side in a skirmish with British soldiers after the war was over, Alexander was devastated. The pain in his chest making him believe that no other could ever compete with it. He was wrong.

Nineteen years ago, the creation of the new nation and his family pulled his attention away from John’s death. Now, he had nobody to pull his attention away. His affair with Maria Reynolds had alienated him from his family and ruined any hint of a legacy he may have created for himself.

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Late Night Thoughts by GuardiansLibrary (delicatelyfallingstars) TW/// SELF HARM,DEPRESSION

CHAPTER ONE


              His room chilled his skin to the touch. In contrast, his forehead beaded with sweat, he could smell the salt of his face and feel the heat on his neck. He woke up in a jolt, flinching into consciousness. His melancholy dream still hanging in his brain like a fog. He remembered, sitting, maybe a little too close to his housemate. They sat in the night’s silence as they sat on the rim of the backyard pool, looking up into the sky. Although there wasn’t much to see, they kept gazing up into the sky.


   Their bodies were almost touching. So close.

He wanted to be closer, but his heart that pounded in his chest protested with his brain.

_I’m not right for him. Anybody else but me would be better for him…_


   He tore his gaze from the sky and lightly kicked his feet in the water.


   _He’s perfect… And I certainly am not._


   He let out a quiet sigh, feeling his chest starting to tighten up and his face getting hotter, his eyes became glossy.


   The boy next to him looked over at him.

“What’s wrong Tord?”


   Tord chest constricted and he felt his throat close up as the boy asked. He was bursting at the seams with emotion. But how could you pour your heart out when the person you loved was your best friend. Your only friend.


“Edd…” he uttered.


   Tord dared not to look up at Edd.


   “Is something wrong? Are you okay?” he whispered, edge in his voice.


   Tord’s mind buzzed with overbearing thoughts until he couldn’t keep the tears in anymore. He gasped and sobbed.


   Edd quickly scooted closer to him to comfort him, placing his hand on Tord’s opposite shoulder.


   “Tord, calm down. It’s alright. It’s just me… There’s nothing to be scared about.” Edd said softly, leaning over so he could get Tord’s eye contact. But Tord had hid his face in his hands and curled up into his torso. He was choking on whines that he was trying to silence.


   A few more sobs and Tord had gained his voice back.


   “Edd…” His voice raspy and pitifully quiet. “I think… I- I don’t know if you feel the same way, but- I think I like you…” Tord looked up at Edd.

Edd’s face went blank, processing what was happening.


   His face shriveled up in disgust. He quickly pulled away from Tord and stood up, “I’m not gay! That’s gross!”


   Total shock took over Tord. “Wh-what?” he managed to utter out.


   “Goodnight Tord!” Edd practically yelled as he slammed the back door behind him.


   Tord never felt so… empty.

   His soul was crushed.


   He couldn’t even cry.


   He couldn’t move.


   Tord gripped the fabric on his arms, gasping on the air as his brain replayed out the scene. Like a broken vinyl record.

   _“I’m not gay! That’s gross!” “Wh-what?” “Goodnight Tord!”_


   Tord gripped his arms so tightly he felt the blood rushing to the surface of his skin where his nails dug into. He went to pull up his sleeve.

He hovered his hand over his forearm, ready to drag his nails across his skin.


   _No, I’ve managed to last this long without hurting myself…_


   He dropped his hand and bundled his blanket into his fist, his other hand covering his mouth as he began to involuntarily whine and choke.

_What did my therapist say to do?_


   Tord thought for a moment before shakily standing up to sit at his desk, flicking on the desk lamp. He retrieved a leather book from one of the drawers and began scribbing down all his thoughts. He kept writing and writing until his brain went numb and he buried his face into the fold of his arm, resting his eyes. Soon, before he knew it, he fell asleep.


   Edd’s sleep was disturbed by the light that filtered through his window.

_I need better curtains. Jot that down…_


   He sat up and wiped the dried crust from his eyes. Edd rolled off his bed and stumbled down the hallway to the bathroom. Then, down to the empty kitchen. He glanced to the stove clock, it reading 10:43.


   _Better wake everyone up…_


   Edd visited Matt’s and Tom’s rooms first, as they were the first ones down the hallway. Both of them begrudgingly got up and went downstairs to wait for Edd to make breakfast.

The last door was Tord’s room.


   Edd lightly tapped on the wooden door with his knuckles. When an answer didn’t come, Edd peered in.


   He saw Tord sleeping hunched over on his desk, with the lamp on. He amused to himself before stepping in, “Hey Tord!”


   Tord snapped awake.


   “I can’t imagine you slept well on the desk.” Edd joked, a smirk spreading on his face.


   Tord glanced around, realizing that he did fall asleep on the desk. “Oh! I didn’t even realize I did. I guess not.” he let out a halfhearted chuckle.


   Edd laughed softly before leaning onto one hip, “Alright, go ahead downstairs. I’m making breakfast.”


   Tord nodded sleepily and wobbled out of the room.


   Edd looked around his room, filling up with slight irritation.


   _I’ve told him like four times this week to clean his room!_


   He began hastily picking up loose clothing from the ground and adding it to the bundle in his arms.


   Picking up the last few, he tossed the pile into his hamper and looked over the room again.

_He left his light on, ugh._


   Edd approached his desk, flicking off the light. His eyes caught the messy handwriting on the opened book displayed on the desk.


   He was going to leave it but had skimmed over his name in the writing.


   Edd clenched down in his teeth in thought. Curiosity took over him.


   He leaned down and read through the book.

   _I woke up from an awful dream about Edd and I. We were sitting by the pool looking up at the stars when I started to cry. He looked so pretty and I felt like shit about myself so I just… cried. When he asked me what was wrong I told him that I like him and he told me that I was gross and stormed off. Now I feel even more like shit…

But! On the brightside, writing this out made me feel better. I managed to overcome wanting to scratch at my skin. Yay?_


   The entry went on about the rest of his day so Edd decided to stop.


   He blinked blearily and gazed off into the distance.


   He didn’t know what to think.


   Edd snapped out of his blank train of thought as he heard Tom yell for him.


   Edd chewed on his bottom lip, he flicked the lamp back on, so Tord would think he didn’t see the book.


   He quickly went back downstairs, pushing the questions that buzzed around into the back of his head.


          Later that week, once the food in the house was running low, Tom volunteered Edd and Tord to go get groceries while Matt and him played the new Super Smash Bros.


   Tord, feeling particularity drained that day, saw no point in arguing with him.


   Tord sat quietly in the passenger’s seat listening to the radio. He duly looked out of the window, zoning out of reality.


   Edd had suddenly turned down the radio to almost zero. “Can we talk for a minute?”


   Tord blinked back into existence, beginning to feel a heavy atmosphere around him.


   “What about?” he mumbled.


   Edd cleared his throat before speaking. “Well, remember a few days ago when you fell asleep on your desk?”


   Tord slowly nodded, not entirely sure where this was going.


   “Well… You left your journal open-”

   “-you looked through my journal?!” Tord said abruptly, loudly.


   “No! Tord, listen! I wasn’t going to but I saw my name and I got curious?” Edd tried explaining. He looked over at Tord who was avoiding eye contact, staring out of the window. He was clenching the end of his hoodie in his hands.


   Edd tore his gaze away from him and back on the road. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? But I think you should know that I wouldn’t think you were gross if you told me you were gay…” said Edd in a softer, warmer tone.


   He glanced back over to Tord who still had his eyes locked on the road and his hoodie in his fists, but his eyes held back a wall of tears.

“And Tord…” Edd choked out. His own eyes holding back tears.


   “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself because you think that I wouldn’t accept you… You’re my best friend. Nothing would change that.” his voice wavered and he brought his sleeve up to his eyes to wipe away the hot tears.


   At this point Tord didn’t care about holding back his tears.


   Edd pulled the car over to the side of the road.He unbuckled himself and turned his body towards Tord.


   Tord had covered his face into his hoodie sleeves.


   “Tord…

Tord, look at me”


   Tord tore his face from his hands and glanced up at Edd with a pitiful look on his face.


   “You were my first best friend. The first person that actually cares about what I say. And the first person that has supported me all the way through. I love you with all my heart… And no one will ever be able to replace you.”


   “Edd, what are you trying to say?” Tord felt a little spark of hope.


   Edd glanced around, “Maybe we can try and see how this works out okay?”


   Tord sat for a few heartbeats processing what he’d said. “Are you serious?” he let out a puff of amusement. “Of course you aren’t! You’re not gay…”


   “I’m serious…”


   Tord’s heart skipped. “Edd.”


   Edd wrapped his arms around Tord, setting his head on one of his shoulders.


   Tord could feel Edd’s heart racing on his chest. He wondered if he could feel his too. Tord returned the hug, burying his face into Edd’s hoodie.


   “Please don’t let go…” Tord mumbled into the fabric.


“I wouldn’t dream of it.”


(My ao3 account is GuardiansLibrary if you want to see more chapters! I take requests here and there!)

anonymous asked:

Hey, um... I'm kinda new to your blog. All the stories that I've read from here are great if I do say so myself. I just wanted to know if you could do a Hiro x Reader where reader chan is spending a lot more time with Tadashi and Hiro gets pretty Jealous... You dont hav to do this request. The idea might be lame :P

Hey!  Welcome, welcome!  Thanks for stopping by! Haha.  And It’s not a lame idea.  Here you go!


Hiro’s feet pound on the stairs as he makes his way down tothe café.  He was just planning to come down for a quick second to grab something to eat before heading up, but then his eyes catch your familiar form.  You’re sitting at one of the tables an empty mug next to you as you laugh at something Tadashi just said, who is sitting at the table across from you.

Hiro frowns and makes his way over to the two of you.  “(Name)?” he calls out, gaining your attention.

You look over and smile when you see your long time friend, “Hey Hiro!”

“Hey…  How long have you been here?” he asks, glancing at his brother before looking at you.

You glance down at your watch, “I don’t know, about an hour or so.”

Hiro’s frown deepens. “Well, then why didn’t you come up to say hi?”

You shrug a shoulder innocently.  “I was going to, but then I saw that Tadashi was down here and we started talking.  I guess I just lost track of time.”

“Oh.  Okay,” he responds in a dull voice.  Without any other words, Hiro just turns on his heel and walks back upstairs, his appetite lost.

You frown as you watch him leave, picking up on his strange behavior.  “Is he okay?” you ask, turning to Tadashi.

Tadashi is frowning as well, “I’m not sure what’s gotten into him.  He was fine this morning…”

“Should we go check on him?” you ask, starting to get out of your chair.

“No, he’s probably just going through one of his mood swings.  I’ll check up on him later tonight.  So what was it that happened to your mom and that spider?”

You laugh and continue on with the story you had been telling him before Hiro showed up.

Keep reading

Imagine John Winchester (your father) hits you... Dean and Sam react badly... [REVISED] PART 1

BAM! The motel door slammed behind you as you stormed into the house, depositing your gun and knives on the bed furthest from the wall. BAM! BAM! It slammed open and right back closed again. “(Y/N) Winchester, don’t you dare walk away from me when I’m talking to you!”

“Well I’m done talking to you!” you growled back under your breath as your father rounded the corner of the bed towards you.

“That was stupid, (Y/N)!” John Winchester, your drill seargent of a father, roared at you. His face was red and the veins in his neck were bulging beneath the skin. The hunt had gone wrong that night, as all great nights go, and the wendigo had almost gotten a hold of your dad. You had burst out from your hiding spot too early, taking a blow to the ribs from the beast. John had shot flares at it, but your bloody torso had needed taking care of. The wendigo ran off, lost in the woods once more.

“An ammature mistake!” John roared again, turning his back to you and stalking to the fridge for a beer. He popped the top and took several deep gulps, giving you time to protest.

“Yeah! A mistake! I said I’m sorry a million times! Jeesh, would you let it go?!”

Your father turned and began shouting again. “Let it go? Let it go?! Dean would have never made a mistake like that! Hell, Sam wouldn’t have made a mistake like that!”

“I’m not Dean or Sam!” you shrieked at him, throwing your hands down in front of you.

“Well maybe you should be!”

“I’m not and I’m not ever going to be!! I’m not a frickin’ soldier, Dad! You can’t do this to me! You’ve gotta let it go, let me go-”

That was it for John. With two strides, he was across the room and right in your face. Fear sparked in your belly and you attempted to push him away, but he grabbed your wrist in a death grip, sending chills up your spine and making your mouth dry. “DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME WHAT TO DO! I AM YOUR FATHER, YOUNG LADY AND I WILL DO WHAT I SEE FIT!”

By now your anger was completely replaced with fear, its icy tendrils wrapping around your lungs and making it hard to breathe. “D-Daddy, p-please let go-”

“I SAID YOU DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! I AM YOUR FATHER AND I WILL GRAB YOU IF I WANT TO!”

“DADDY!” you sobbed as his hold became unbearable, “PLEASE-”

SMACK!

The air left your lungs completely as the back of John’s hand impacted your cheek, making your head swing to the side and sting your skin. Eyes growing wide, you gasped and managed to shove John away, if not just because of his own shock. “(Y-Y/N)…” he stammered, jaw slack and beer bottle dropped to the floor, forgotten. “Oh God, baby, I’m so sorry-” he reached out towards you, and you backed away, clambering over the bed towards the door shrieking, “STAY AWAY FROM ME!”

“(Y/N), baby, I-”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” you screamed at him, opening the door and sliding through it before John could grab you again.

Out on the sidewalk of the motel, you ran. You ran and ran and ran, the fear-fueled adrenaline filling your veins and making your vision blur. You darted across the street, narrowly missed by a car crossing. The driver honked at you and yelled profuse curses, but you couldn’t hear him over the pounding of your heart in your ears.

After running for a solid ten minutes, you came to a panting, shaking stop in front of a sleazy diner. The door chimed as it opened, and you stumbled to sit in a seat in the farthest booth from the door. Your skin was clammy, your heart still racing and the adrenaline replaced by a terrible sting from both your wrist and cheek. The cuts on your side had stopped bleeding, but still hurt like a bitch. You felt ready to collapse into exhausted sobs, but pulled yourself together by the frays when a plump waitress walked over to her.

Her face was concerned, brows furrowed and bright red lips pursed. “Sweetheart, are you alright?” she asked gently, reaching down to touch the table in front of you. Despite yourself, you flinched.

“I-I’m f-f-fine,” you stammered, really not wanting the woman to go away.

The waitress, as if sensing your thoughts, hollared towards the kitchen. “Marty! Gimme a cup of cocoa!” She sat down in front of you and took your shaking hand. “Sweetheart, you’re shakin’ like a leaf!” she exclaimed, her voice taking a motherly tone that reminded you of Missouri. “Is there someone I can call for you, baby?”

When she said that name- baby- you flinched and withdrew your hand, pulling your knees into the seat and hugging them. You only then realized how small you were, even for a young teenager. “C-Can I call my brother?” you asked quietly, sniffling and rubbing at your eye. Your cheek was no longer stinging, but a low, thrumming throb had replaced the earlier sharp pain.

The waitress nodded, giving you a pitying smile that made your stomach churn. “Gimme one second and I’ll get you the phone, doll.”

It really was only a few seconds before the waitress returned, steaming cup of cocoa in one hand and phone in the other. It was a clunky plastic phone that looked archaic, but you could hardly care as you looked at the numbers through a murky vision. You had two options- Sam, or Dean. Sam was at Standford, and the last time you had spoken with him was a few months ago. Dean was off on a hunt with Caleb, probably out of cell range. You called him anyway, and it went straight to voice mail.

I don’t know how you got this number, but unless your last name is Winchester, don’t call again. BEEP.”

“D-Dean,” you stammered into the phone, tears flowing from you now that you were actually speaking. “Dee,” the helpless sob wracked your frame and you dropped your head to your knees. “I-I need you, D-Dee…”

BEEEEEEP.

The dial tone sounded, and you sobbed again, dialing a different number this time. After several rings, a groggy voice answered. It was, to your surprise, a woman.

Hello?” she asked, sounded partially annoyed but partially worried.

“H-Hi,” you mumbled meekly. “I-Is Sam there?”

Yeah, one second,” the woman mumbled. You heard shuffled in the background followed by, “Sam, baby, the phone.”

A groan resounded, and you felt a tiny giggle bubble up desbite yourself. That groan just sounded so much like Sam that you couldn’t help yourself. “'Ello?” came the familiar voice, and your tears returned anew.

“S-Sam,” you sobbed out, unable to help it.

Wha- (Y/N)? (Y/N), kiddo, is that you?”

“Sam,” you managed through the tears, “I- I need- I don’t-”

More rustling came across the line, and you could practically see Sam rolling himself out of bed, training kicking in as he threw on clothes and shoes. “(Y/N), what’s wrong?”

You were unable to answer, throat constricting around itself. The waitress that was hovering around you put a gentle hand on your shoulder, frowning at your flinch, and took the phone from you. “Hello?”

You didn’t hear Sam’s part, but you could barely hear the squat little waitress talking to him in hushed tones as you struggled not to hyperventilate. “Poor thing came in all in a flurry. She’s still shakin’ like a leaf… I dunno what happened, hon, but she’s got a nasty bruise on her cheek… No sir, she’s alone… 1616 Lan- huh? Oh, um, Mound House, Nevada. Where are you again, hon?… Oh, goodness, that’s a drive- No, no! It’s no problem, we’re open 24/7… Okay, honey, I’ll put you back on with her.”

(Y/N)?” came Sam again, and you felt a small warmth just from the sound of your big brother’s voice. “(Y/N), I’m comin’ to get you, kiddo, it’s only a four hour drive so I’ll be there soon- just stay there, alright? Stay with the waitress and I’ll be there really soon, okay kiddo? Just stay there and I’ll be there soon…”

“S-Sam,” you gasped out, tears running down your face freely.

It’s gonna be okay, kiddo, alright? I promise you, it’s gonna be okay.” There was a loud beep, and Sam coughed. “I’ve gotta hang up now and give Jess the phone back, but I’ll be there really soon, okay? I’ve got my cell phone and I’ll call you when I’m close-”

“D-Don’t got my phone,” you told him, and Sam cursed.

Does Dad have his? I’ll call him-”

“NO!” you exclaimed, and the waitress jumped. There was a frightening silence across the line before Sam spoke again.

(Y/N), did Dad… Did he hurt you?”

Having your night finally put into words, the dam finally broke. Sobs wracked your frame and you were unable to answer, snot and tears running down your face as you rubbed furiously, only aggravating the bruise on your cheek. The waitress took the phone back and talked to Sam again, although you couldn’t tell what they were saying. You could hardly even think, for that matter.

After a few minutes- or hours, time seemed to fly when your brain was trying to poud its way out of your skull- the waitress pulled you up to stand and took you to a little room in the back of the diner. And there you sat for the full four hours waiting on Sam. Every couple of minutes a head would poke in and offer you something- food, drink, a jacket- you declined every offer with a dull shake of your head. By now, you sobs had settled into soft hiccups and frail, shallow whimpers.

Hours, minutes, weeks, days. Time had no meaning to you as you sat there in the back room, knees drawn up to your chin, as you lolled back and forth, fighting sleep.

Finally, blessed finally, the door creaked open and a shaggy brown head popped in. Big, hazel eyes looked around the room for a minute before settling on you, and a broken voice muttered, “(Y/N)…”

Before you knew what was happening, your brother was around you, hugging you, kissing your forehead and nose, checking out the bruise on your cheek. He was whispering sweetly to you the whole time, placing his jacket around your shoulders and rubbing your arms warmly. You thought you had cried out all of your tears, but they began anew when Sam lifted you up into his arms, holding you like you weighed nothing. You nestled up close to him despite th pain it caused your scratches, gripping his hoodie tightly and burrowing your face in his shoulder. You heard the waitress- the oh-so-kind waitress- talking softly to him and felt her pat your shoulder.

“You make sure to take good care of her, young man.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

It was so like Sam to say that, to be so confident. You knew he couldn’t protect you, though. You would eventually have to go back to John- you were underage, after all- and then Sam would go back to Stanford, and you’d be alone once more.

You were set down in a car, the heat turned up on high and making it cozy despite the chilly sleet outside. “(Y/N)? Kiddo, please look at me, please.”

Sam sounded so broken that you had to look up, look deep into his hazel eyes. It was the first time you had actually sat up straight in nearly five hours, and your back popped painfully. Sam’s face softened even more when he saw the bright blue bruise that stretched from your cheekbone up towards your eye. “Oh, kiddo,” he whispered sadly, hugging you once more. “I’m not gonna let him ever lay a hand on you again, (Y/N),” Sam promised you. He kissed your forehead, resting his lips there as he spoke. “I swear to God, he’s never gonna touch you ever again.”

For the first time in a long time, you felt a warm blanket of safety rest over you. And you fell into a blissful, painless sleep…

Home (Part 2) // Stiles Stilinski

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6 (FINAL)

Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Stiles x reader
Word Count: 1,462
Warnings: Swear words maybe?
Request from: @a-queen-is-better-than-king:  “Hi could you do an imagine where the reader is Deucalion’s daughter and she leaves with him but returns to beacon hills. And she goes to see stile but it’s not really him it’s the nogitsuni. And since he was to feel pain he breaks her heart and tries to make her loose control please and thank you”

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archiveofourown.org
Renegades: Chapter Thirty: The Phoenix Archive of Our Own
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

It feels like hours, doesn’t it, Hawke thought as his pupils dilated and his veins constricted in sheer terror.  You thought some fucking demon in the tower knew what fear was.  You haven’t fucking met me.  He tried to gasp for breath and Hawke tightened her claws around his neck like a constricting snake.  Mmm, what’s wrong?  You’re only used to apprentices?

In which Cullen makes a mistake and promptly has a no good very bad day courtesy of one Marian Hawke.  Also featuring Orsino, Meredith, and Elthina.

I am actually really proud of this chapter?  I think it might be one of my better ones?  I don’t say that often!  I’m actually feeling kind of good about my writing!

Latest Chapter: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9664499/chapters/28782726

Chapter One: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9664499/chapters/21832436