thank you so much for dragging me into this kind of trap

Beneath This Scar | M

“Are you willing to stay by his side knowing what he truly is?”

Précis: It was supposed to be a story written only in fairytales, and somehow, you were destined to live it.

Note: Inspired by the movie Wolf Children, totally different from this fic tho, so no need to worry. this was supposed to be 3k what happened-

Genre & Warnings: Angsty, alotta fluff, mentions of blood & implied smut. | Words ➳ 10.3k


To you, he was something you would have never known could actually exist.

He was as mysterious as they would come, holding his pencil in a way so elegant that you didn’t know was possible, the look of boredom sprouting through his features as he scrunched his nose in concentration; ears twitching while he tried to draw something perfect and pleasing to his eyes. You watched him sketch with such wonder in your irises, and even though you wondered how he could draw while ignoring the professor speak and try to teach his students about the basic wonders of the world — you hadn’t known that whilst watching the boy draw, you were also in a little world of your own and not paying attention yourself.

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Living As A Crossdresser

As I’m sure many of you are aware, I moved into my own house at the start of the year. Obviously I was excited for a whole multitude of reasons (like having my own mortgage… yay… adulting) but one of the biggest was having the freedom to crossdress whenever I like.

Originally, I thought this would simply mean that I wouldn’t have to worry about when I would have a free house and I wouldn’t need to plan my crossdressing photoshoots around whether someone else would be home or not (a lot of photoshoots had to be cancelled because of family members not leaving when they were supposed to…). It wasn’t that I would crossdress more often, just that I wouldn’t need to hide when doing it.

However, over the last week, I’ve been breaking one of my cardinal rules. 

I’ve been crossdressing without makeup.

Fuck me, I didn’t even wear a wig.

I’m very much a go hard or go home kind of girl; I’ve always said that I wouldn’t see a point in crossdressing without doing the makeup and the hair. For me it’s all part of the same package. I wouldn’t apply that rule to anyone else of course, but for me I’ve always either done everything or nothing at all.

So what was the point then? Is it really such a big deal that I wore a dress around the house without bothering with the rest?

For me? Yes. Yes it is.

It might sound a bit backwards, going from looking like a woman (or at least a close enough approximation…) to being a bloke in a dress, but it’s certainly something I needed. 

This wasn’t about being convincing. This was about being comfortable.

I guess that’s the real point of this post; being comfortable. I’ve spent years upon years telling others and myself so many different rules. Wear concealer to hide beard shadow… get a wig the same colour as your natural hair… dress for your body type… All of these different things without remembering the key rule:

Do what makes you feel comfortable and happy.

You want to wear a dress and keep your beard? Do it.

Wearing a bra under your work clothes? Do it.

Wanna walk around your house naked in platform heels? Do it.

We all should do what we’re comfortable with and what makes us happy. For me, that’s about looking as feminine as possible, but sometimes I might just want to wear a skirt because fuck it why not.


DISCLAIMER: Ok so this post got kind of sidetracked… It was actually meant to be about how you can live your regular life as a crossdresser, but you’re all sensible enough to know how to do that anyway.

I did also have the photoshoot just over a week ago (thank you again to everyone who tuned into the Q & A on Instagram!) and I’m going to be posting photos from it on a weekly basis, starting…. NOW

I’m going to post more about this outfit later on in the week, so just consider this a teaser for now!

Until then…

- Jessica Blaise x x

anonymous asked:

What are your favorite smutty drarry?

Rorschach by gracerene {5K}

Harry never gave much thought to Malfoy’s soulmark. But that was before he caught a glimpse. Now it’s all he can think about.

Head over Heels by birdsofshore and shiftylinguini Words:6100

Bloody Malfoy. Always turning up when he’s not wanted, making Harry notice things he doesn’t want to notice… like Malfoy’s new tattoo.

Simulacrum by slashpervert Words:3011

Draco sends a gift to Potter and finds himself in a difficult but erotic position.

The Potter-Malfoy Problem by who_la_hoop Words:28939

The room of requirement’s gone mad — at least, that’s what Harry thinks. There’s no way that Draco Malfoy ‘requires’ him, of all people, but why does it keep dragging Harry there like he’s some kind of furniture, every time Malfoy enters it? Throw in Pansy the pervert and a clipboard-wielding Hermione, and things can only go from bad to worse. And that’s not even mentioning the pirates …

Lumos by birdsofshore Words:41478

Harry never expected to spend eighth year listening to Draco Malfoy wanking.

Buy A Heart by Anonymous Words:17668

Draco’s cock hardens as he looks at the invitation to the charity auction; his golden ticket to one wild night of desperate sex with Potter to get rid of this inexplicable obsession. His heart whispers that one night will never be enough, but Draco is beyond caring. All he knows is that he will pay any price to have Potter over and over again.

Ruin Me by traintracks Words:3045

Potter seems even more infuriating lately than usual. It takes Draco a little time to figure out why.

Draco at Nineteen by birdsofshore Words:5196

It’s the middle of the night and Harry Potter is sitting on my bed looking distinctly weird. I’ve had some fucked-up dreams in my time, but this one… this one is something new.

Mistletoe Madness by fireflavored Words:4822

In the face of terrible adversity, Harry and Draco are nothing if not professionals.

Undone by eidheann Words:2501

In the months since he’d started sleeping with Harry Potter, Draco’s carefully ordered life fell to shambles.

The Invisible Man by Faith Wood (faithwood) Words:9984

Sometimes unforeseen side effects aren’t the worst thing that can happen to a person.

Who Shagged Harry Potter? by Faith Wood (faithwood) Words:6464

One beautiful sunny Sunday the Slytherins wake up after a raunchy night only to discover a very naked Harry Potter sleeping in their dormitory. Naturally, they ask themselves a logical question: Who the hell shagged him?

Don’t Think Twice by firethesound Words:8490

Harry was just trying to get away for a while. He didn’t mean to get trapped in the Prefect’s Bath with Draco Malfoy.

Vanilla and Sweet Spices by FleetofShippyShips Words:19699

After the others leave an eighth year party, Harry still has the rum he snagged off Dean. But the only person left to drink it with is Draco Malfoy.

Dangerous by Faith Wood (faithwood) Words:6342

Being trapped in a dungeon with Malfoy — who’s a werewolf, a former Death Eater, and a giant git — is definitely dangerous. Harry has no reason to be excited. None at all.

A Shower, A Meal, A Nap, and A Shag by chickenlivesinpumpkin Words:4656

Harry’s supposed to be alone in Grimmauld Place…so why is there a Malfoy in his shower? And what’s Harry going to do about it?

After the Battle by birdsofshore Words:1465

Written for the prompt: Draco offers a “thanks for saving the world” blowjob to Harry soon after the Battle of Hogwarts.

Let Me Go on Loving You by birdsofshore Words:6626

Harry has learned that the perils of living with a potion master include, among many other things, the occasional exploding cauldron. At least this accident involves a lot of orgasms, so. Could be worse.

Instruction For A Misplaced Slytherin by bixgirl1 Words:8556

Potter stared at him with an intense, indecipherable expression. He cleared his throat. “You know what? It would be easier to learn if you just showed me,” he said abruptly.

In which Draco has a crush but fancies himself kind, Harry is oblivious but overly ambitious (and the teensiest bit sneaky), and things get dirty really fast.

Kinks

Originally posted by bwipsul

Kinks

Summay: A sort of domestic life with Jimin that’s a mix of fluff and smut. (warning: contains Asphyxiation and  a little Dirty Talk) 

Rating: M (Smut)

You pouted as you stared outside the window, it was completely white outside. You used a sweater covered palm to swipe at the thick condensation that coated your view. But it was no use, you still couldn’t see anything. No cars, no people just the faint street lights in the distance but even they seemed a bit dim and blurry compared to normal nights. You sighed quietly to yourself, already dreading all the snow you’d have to tread through on your morning commute to work the next day.

“Ahem.”

You tore yourself away from the window, watching as your boyfriend quirk an eyebrow at you. You smiled to him sheepishly, sliding down from your seat on the windowsill perch to the floor. You scooted your way closer to him, picking up the discarded papers you left all over the floor.

“You were the one who called me over to help…” he began mumbling, a cute small pout forming on his lips. “But you’re making me do all the work!” he whined throwing his arms up in exasperation before crossing them over his chest.  

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Claws-trophobia

So I had this request to have chat, nathaniel and marinette all trapped in an enclosed space, for a long time and finally had a brilliant idea for it (with the help of @squirrellygirlart ) Hope you all enjoy it :) Thanks for the request anon!!

Also @squirrellygirlart did some artwork to go with the piece!!! Check it out HERE!!!!! - it’s pretty amazing!!!


Marinette’s class was helping out at Chloe’s hotel for the day. It was something their class had done once a year every year for as long as Marinette could remember. It was supposed to teach them something about responsibility and the job market and of course Marinette always ended up with the worst jobs on account of Chloe’s hatred for her and today was no different. Marinette was stuck with Gofer duty while Adrien was put at the front desk along with Chloe. Marinette was more than just a little disappointed by it. It happened every year of course but Marinette was beginning to feel that her crush on Adrien was more than a little hopeless. Needless to say Marinette was feeling more than a little discouraged that day. Of course the rage filled akuma that was tearing through the hotel didn’t do much to help improve Marinette’s mood. Marinette ran down the hallway akuma following close behind fiery hair  sticking on end as she screamed in fury. A small fiery blast landed near Marinette’s foot. She yelped as she pushed herself to run faster.

“Marinette!” Marinette was quickly grabbed around the waist and yanked into another hallway as a fiery blast dissolved where she had previously been standing. Marinette looked up to see glowing green eyes staring back at her. She rested her hands on his shoulders their chests brushing against one another as they both tried to catch their breath.

“Chat Noir,” Marinette greeted breathlessly. Chat smirked at her.

“Afternoon Princess, are you alright?” Chat asked, eyes giving her a once over. Marinette nodded.

“I think so,” Marinette assured.

“Good, come on, we need to get you to safety,” Chat Noir released her waist instead taking her hand in his and pulling her along behind him. Marinette let him lead her deciding to transform once he left her to take care of the akuma. Chat rounded a corner only for them to find themselves face to face with the fiery beast. Marinette and Chat Noir skidded to a stop. Chat and Marinette both squeaked as the akuma smiled wickedly down at them fire brewing in her open hand.

“Make a run for it?” Marinette asked cautiously. Chat Noir’s head made a jerky nod. The akuma reeled her arm back fiery blast aimed their way.

“Time to go!” Chat shouted turning on his heel and tore down the hall, Marinette still in hand. Chat led them towards an open elevator at the end of the hall. The doors slowly began to close. Chat released Marinette’s hand diving inside the doorway and keeping the doors open for Marinette. Marinette skidded to a stop just before the elevators glancing back as she heard a door open. Nathaniel stepped into the hallway looking down at his sketch book oblivious to the raging akuma headed straight towards them.

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Journals

Description: Simon and Baz keep journals. 

Words: 1246

For @bloodredblossoms611 who prompted me to write this. (Thank you, it was so much fun to write).

Pining, and some angst. But a very happy ending. I hope everyone likes it! 

September 1st, 2008

T. Basilton Grimm Pitch

I’m only keeping this journal so I can tell my step mum I’m doing it, she thinks that it’ll help me work through my issues. Ha, issues, is that what we’re calling it now?

My roommate is an insufferable drag, the bloody chosen one. He doesn’t look like a chosen one, he doesn’t look like anyone would choose him. My father insists that it’s a good thing, that I have to keep an eye on the Mage’s heir, I don’t know how I’m going to survive.

September 1st, 2008

Simon

The mage thinks I should keep a journal, he thinks it’ll help me with my words. I don’t think I can be helped with my words.

I think my roommate is evil, he’s a Grimm-Pitch, and the Mage tells me that both those families are evil, so how can he not be? He stares at me a lot, he’s probably trying to figure out the neatest way to kill me. He’s a bloody clean-freak.

September 1st, 2009

Simon

I’m back at Watford, I can hardly believe it. I’d started to think that I made it up, that I would never have someplace to call home. I cried a lot, Baz came in and made fun of me. He’s such an arse, always acting like he’s the most important person in the room. Maybe the mage will let me switch this year.

September 1st, 2009

T. Basilton Grimm-Pitch

I came into the room to find Snow crying, he’s such a pathetic excuse for a chosen one. He even invaded my summer, I couldn’t even bloody think of anything else. Simon Snow demands attention, he’s like an elephant stumbling around and destroying everything he touches.

September 1st, 2012

T. Basilton Grimm-Pitch

I can’t believe I still keep a diary, like a bloody preteen girl. I only do it because Daphne somehow knows when I stop.  

Snow is unbearable, it’s just the first day of term and he hasn’t left me alone. Just stared at me, all day. He is no friend to subtlety, doesn’t even try to hide it, what kind of hero is he?

September 1st, 2012

Simon

Baz is up to something, even more so than usual, I’m going to find out what it is. I figure if I never leave him alone he can never do whatever it is that he does. I’m going to figure out what he’s plotting, the old families probably finally decided it was time to get rid of me. I get it now, why I have to be his roommate, I have to keep an eye one him.

October 12th, 2012

T. Basilton Grimm-Pitch

Snow never leaves me alone, I can’t even get 15 minutes to shower without him thinking I’m setting up some elaborate trap. I wish I could bite him, turn him and finally make him feel like I do. Like a villain. My life is fucked up enough without Snow stalking me constantly.

October 20th, 2012

Simon

Baz goes into the catacombs constantly, I’m not sure what he’s doing down there but I doubt it’s something that’s good for me or the Mage or non-evil people in general. I found dead rats, but I don’t know what he’s doing with them. I spend all my time following him, Penny’s starting to get irritated.

December 18th, 2012

T. Basilton Grimm-Pitch

We’re home for Christmas break, and I still feel like I’m going to round a corner and find Snow staring at me. Bloody Snow, I can never be rid of him. He’s probably at the Wellbelove’s, snogging Agatha and pretending to be a happy family. The thought bothers me, it scratches at my stomach. I shouldn’t care, though, Snow is just my stupid roommate. Not my friend, or-

December 19th, 2012

T. Basilton Grimm-Pitch

It’s unbearably early, something I should not be saying on break when Snow’s not here to wake me up with his stumbling. But I had a dream, about Simon. He kissed me, and it was nice, and I didn’t want to bite him (well, not that way). God, this can’t be happening, Snow is unbearable. I hate Snow, more importantly, Snow hates me.

January 3rd, 2012.

T. Basilton Grimm-Place

As if my life wasn’t shit enough without adding ‘in love with his enemy’ to the mix. The term started today, and it’s much worse seeing him, having him be there. I don’t how to act normal, but I’m trying, Not like it matters, Snow will just assume that I’m plotting another way to make his life miserable.

January 3rd, 2012

Simon

Baz is acting strange, for once in his life he hasn’t taken every possible opportunity to make my life miserable. He’s just quiet, I caught him staring at me. Maybe he figures he can lull me into a false sense of security and then strike.

March 15th, 2012

T. Basilton Grimm-Pitch

I don’t know what I’m going to do. Snow won’t leave me alone for one second to try to sort out these feelings. Every time I see him (in class, or our room, or trailing me in the catacombs), I just want to kiss him or bite him. That’s when I’m at my worst, when he’s following me and we’re alone and it would just be so easy to end this, one way or another. I don’t think I’m going to survive.

October 28, 2015

T. Basilton Grimm-Pitch

I feel tired, the Numpties took everything out of me, everything usually reserved for dealing with Snow. I can’t deny that it’s nice, that despite all the pain it causes me it’s nice to see him. He was what I held onto when I felt myself slipping away. He looks at me like I’m about to explode. Even now he keeps glancing up at me over his homework like I’m going to pounce on him (which, maybe I am).

October 28, 2015

Simon

Baz is back, I don’t know how to react. He looks hurt, who could have hurt him? Maybe it was some kind of rite of passage, maybe he’s finally ready to take me out. I should tell him about his mom, or I should look through his stuff to find out where he’s been. I don’t know what I’m going to do.

October 29th, 2015

Simon

I did it, went through his stuff I mean. And I found something, a diary. I read something, and I’m just not sure how to react. I don’t know what’s happening, I just don’t know how to feel about this.

October 29th, 2015

T. Basilton Grimm-Pitch

Snow is acting weird, even more than usual. I think he’s avoiding me, not looking me in the eye. And then he even smiled at me, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. But I sure a hell am not letting him suck me into whatever weird drama is going on in his life. I won’t let him do that to me, not now.

October 30th, 2015

Baz

Simon kissed me, he kissed me until my lips were numb, he kissed me all night. I kissed him, I kissed Simon Snow. Simon Snow kissed me, I feel like I’m dreaming, and maybe I am. He kissed me and I can’t even find it in myself to be angry that he went through my stuff.

Wow Baz, you really like to write about me.

Shut up, Snow, and stop reading my journal.

Diary*

I swear to God Snow.

Playing with Fire

Pairing: Steve X Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, Oral (FR/MR), Unprotected Sex (Wrap it up y’all), Swearing

Word Count: 3600  Apparently I have no chill

A/N: First time writing smut, please be gentle, but feedback is always appreciated!! Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged :-)

Tagging: @buckyb-avengers @avasparks @fvckingavengers

Masterlist


As I lean over the pool table trying to line up my next shot, I feel Steve come up behind me.  He drapes his body over mine and adjusts my hands on the cue “There, try that.” He whispers.  From our position I can feel his warm breath on my neck.  I can also feel the heat of a blush rising to my face. “You’re blushing Y/n” I hear Wanda say from inside my head, and I don’t have to see her to know she and Nat are sporting matching smirks. I take a steadying breath and attempt to sink the ball at which I’m aiming.  Pulling back the cue, I shoot, and not shockingly, I miss the shot.  Groaning I stood up. “You’re getting better” Steve offers.  Laughing and rolling my eyes “ I wouldn’t go that far”. Bucky lines up his next shot, and naturally sinks it, thus ending the game.  Heaving a sigh of relief, I walk over to Bucky “thanks for putting me out of my misery” I say gratefully.  Chuckling he pulls me into a hug “anytime Y/n” and pressed a kiss to the top of my head.  I miss the smirk that he threw at Steve and the glare that was returned.

I had known Steve since he came out the ice all those years ago, Fury tasked me with getting him up to date on all that he had missed, and we fell into an easy friendship. Over the years he had let me in, and then I could see the funny and kind man behind that iconic shield. I grew to love him, and then grew to be in love with him.  I never acted on my feelings, however, as I put too much stock in our friendship.  When Bucky came back into the picture, I worried that I would lose my best friend, however, Bucky became an integral part of my life, as well as Steve’s.  I don’t know if it was because he saw how much I valued Steve or that we just got along well, but soon we three were near inseparable.  

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Keep me warm and safe

Summary: Dorky Firefighter!Phil and Student/Bookstore saleperson!Dan who likes to blurt out the first thing that comes to his mind.

Based on prompt: “My dumb ass of a room mate just set the microwave on fire and you’re one of the firemen who showed up and now I’m need an ambulance cause damn ur hot.” (Prompt by @phan-cannons)

Read it on ao3!

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: I wrote this on a whim, honestly, but I am interested if anyone would like me to write more, because I would gladly take this as a side-project in between USQANF? chapters!

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3. On the Sofa

Big Red Sofa Sex

Word Count: 1,427
A/N: I really don’t drabble well, cuz I like to over explain how people got there, what they’re thinking so thanks for the challenge, and I hope that you like it.
Written by: @goody2shoessmut
Warnings: unprotected sex , kissing, groping ,teasing, swearing

“Whatcha doing doll?” he drawled as you smoothed the towel down over the center of the rich plush red velvet sofa and sat. It had been a lovely day of grab ass at the beach and now Bucky had taken you to a swanky hotel. You were hot and bothered and ready to take out your frustrations on the man who had instilled them in you all damn day long.

You patted the cushion beside you, inviting him to sit. “Getting comfy. Join me?”

Bucky’s face lit up in a giant smile, he swaggered over and dropped down beside you, putting a hand on your knee he slid it slowly upwards as he leaned forward and rumbled, “I know this place is fancy doll, but we don’t have to be covert about being here.” He raised his eye brows at you in question as he flicked his eyes to the towel and back to you. You smiled at him and crawled into his lap as you turned to face him. You rested your arms on his shoulders and his arms went around you as his smile matched yours.

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For All The New Gals

First of all, thanks to everyone who read and liked last weeks post; the notes really help to emphasise that I’m not just blurting stuff out into cyberspace.  So, you know, cheers for that…

Anyway…

I had two reasons to start this blog nearly 7 years ago (wow).

  1. I wanted some kind of validation without people around me knowing that I crossdress. (I can tick this one off the list.)
  2. To speak with other crossdressers and help them out.

Over the last week I’ve had a flood of complements about me going out and how I looked amazing’ and how others ‘wished they had my confidence and looks’. Believe me, I like a the admiration as much as the next person (insert smug face here), but it didn’t happen overnight.

Example time; I’m bringing out the big guns for this one.

That hideous monstrosity with the bingo wing arms, hair plucked from an ostriches backside and more shadow on her chin than a dark alley at night in a bad part of town is me. This was before I even knew myself as Jessica, and long before I developed any kind of fashion sense. 

Now, for comparison, let’s take a look at a much more recent picture.

Same person, better crossdresser.

So what happened over the 7 years? Was I sprinkled with pretty pixie dust? Granted a wish from a genie? Trained in the arts of femininity by an ancient guru?

Nah.

I just realised that some of the things that help to make you look more female are also some of the most boring parts of being a gurl.

So, after an introduction larger than my forearms from the old picture, here are my 3 best tips for those of you just getting into crossdressing and what to rapidly improve your feminine look.

1. Don’t buy pretty. Buy because it works.

I made this mistake so often. We all (or mostly) get into crossdressing because we like the idea of looking amazing in a pretty dress, so in theory if the dress is pretty then you’ll look pretty in it… right?

Wrong.

I’ve said this plenty of times over the years, but I’m always happy to say it again. You have to know what works with your body. I could wear pleated skirts and baggy tops until the world comes crashing down around me, but throw me into a tight mini-dress and I’d rather blow the world up myself than be seen wearing it. 

If it works, great! If not, then simply take it on board and move on. This might take some trial and error, but eventually you’ll be able to tell at first glance whether a dress will look good on you or not.

2. Stop posing like a bloke.

Quickly go back up and look at the ‘old’ and ‘new’ pictures of me. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

You back now? Good.

My pose as Ye Olde Jess makes me look bloke-ish. Not because I’m actually standing like a guy, but because I’m trying to hard to look like a girl.

In the new pic, I don’t have the same pose, but I’m doing more to look female; it’s just not as obvious. 

  • Push your shoulders back and your chest out.
  • Don’t slouch.
  • Suck in at your stomach.
  • Don’t look up.

It’s not about where your hand is on your hip or pulling a face to resemble our feathered ducky friends. Just follow those 4 tips above, and above all else, smile, it makes the world of difference.

3. Pretty makeup ain’t what makes you pretty.

You don’t want to hear it as much as I don’t want to say it, but lipstick and eyeliner isn’t going to make you look feminine.

Concealer, foundation, and powder; those are the holy trinity for crossdressers everywhere. Make sure you invest in the good stuff too, otherwise you’ll end up looking like that blotchy beard-shadowy mess in my old pic.

If you can get your foundation looking flawless and hide away that beard, you’re already miles ahead.

There’s not much else to say on this really. Obviously you can still use lip and eye makeup, but you should always concern yourself more with the canvas that is your face being clean and ready to go.

Pro Tip: Wash your face before putting on any makeup. It makes a huge difference.


Aaaand yet again I’ve managed to make a lengthy post. Hopefully I didn’t bore you and with time and patience you’ll notice a difference in how you look as a woman.

Anyway, I’m gonna end it there before I start blathering on about something else. Here’s a bonus pic to say thanks for reading all the way through.

And of course I’ll have another topic to cover by next Sunday, but please let me know if there’s anything you would like me to write about.

- Jessica Blaise x x

Where You Belong

Bucky x Reader

Word count: ~4800

Request Summary: Could I request a one shot where Bucky and reader have been together for ages, and the reader has been coping with buckys nightmares and talking down the soldier when he turns into him, but she becomes exhausted doing that and working, and Bucky and Steve think it’s a good idea to hire someone else to deal with buckys nightmares, not realising that it will hurt readers feelings and makes her think Bucky doesn’t want her anymore,
She try’s to leave him and tells him she will help train the new person to deal with the soldier, and she packs her bags when Sam finds her In her room, and then goes to tell bucky and it ends all fluffy please if that made any sense 

A/n: Thank you @melconnor2007 for the wonderful request. I hope you enjoy it! Also the longest thing I’ve ever written.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, a little violence from a nightmare, swearing.

“Bucky,” you gasp out, feeling the metal fingers tighten around your throat, the wall harsh and rough against your back.  “Buck, it’s me, it’s ok, you’re safe,” you wheeze.  Looking into his crisp blue eyes, you don’t see anything of the man that you love, you only see the thing that he hates.

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pale-silver-comb  asked:

♥ "Don't go", Sterek.

For you, my dear, I had planned to write some bottom Derek smut, but all my ideas for this had feelings all over them. So I wrote them all instead of picking one. I hope you enjoy it!

Four times Stiles and Derek say “Don’t go,” and two times they are exactly where they want to be (for @pale-silver-comb)


Derek’s voice is sleep roughened but edged with a practiced concerned awareness, gained from too many late night emergency phone calls, “Stiles? What’s wro-”

“Derek!” Sites interrupts with his usual exuberance, tinged with the softened slur of unaccustomed drunkenness, and Derek relaxes marginally as Stiles continues. “How are you man? I haven’ seen you in like- wha’ time izzit?” Stiles whips his phone away from his ear to check the time, but he’s too intoxicated to fight his own momentum and ends up twirling after the arc of his arm, stumbling. He barely manages to catch himself before he falls to the ground, but Derek is on his feet and getting dressed as soon as he hears the muttered “Oh, shit.”

Before he can yell for the human, he hears an honest to god giggle through the tiny speaker, and he relaxes ever so slightly. He can hear the indistinct baseline of something irritating and popular distantly playing in the background, the sound of the wind a low whistle through the phone line, and Stiles, laughing.

“Stiles, where are you?” Derek is grabbing his keys and toeing on shoes as he prepares to collect the human before he can get into trouble. Beacon Hills is relatively safe, if you don’t count the supernatural threats, but a good looking and clearly intoxicated seventeen year old shouldn’t be out wanting the streets at one thirty in the morning.

“I wuzzat a party with Scott. But he left with this girl, an’ he said I shouldn’ stay long, but he was ‘sposed to be my ride, and Der’k, I’m drunk,” he finishes seriously. “I’m drunk, an’ I can’t call my dad, and you’re like, my bes’ friend, an’ your car is awesome, an’ i-“

Derek is caught off guard by the sincerity in Stiles’ voice, but he focuses on the rising panic and cuts him off with a gentle, “Hey, just tell me where you are, I’ll be right there.”

Stiles slurs through his location, and Derek is relieved to hear it’s only a few minutes away. He keeps Stiles talking as he speeds to close the distance faster, and the wave of pure relief that washes over him at the sight of Stiles slumped against a lamppost is like an electric shock.

Stiles pours himself into the passenger seat with more grace than he usually possesses and flashes Derek a grateful smile. He’s more tired and regretful drunk than boisterous drunk now, and he lets his head rest heavily against the seat as Derek drives at a much slower speed toward the Stilinski house.

“Thank you for coming to get me, Der,” Stiles’ voice is clearer, but small sounding, his words not quite their usual crispness. “I’m glad it’s you, because I don’t have to worry about not saying how burning hot Derek is, or how I want him to push me up against a wall and kiss me, because you’re not him, and, oh fuck! You’re you!” he says accusingly, as if Derek had forgotten who he was talking to, and not the other way around.

Derek can feel the hot blush color his ears and flash down his neck at the image Stiles paints with his accidental confession.

“Stiles,” he begins, gently, but Stiles doesn’t let him finish.

“Derek, can we please blame the alcohol and forget that pretty much this whole night happened?”

Derek considers it. Stiles is clearly embarrassed, his scent gone sour and his heartbeat unsteady. It would be easy to ignore it, he’s had plenty of practice ignoring his feelings. But if Stiles wants him, and he doesn’t have to pretend he doesn’t want him back- why should he? “What if I don’t want to?”

Stiles gasps, and it sends a shiver down Derek’s spine. “You- what?”

“We’ll talk when you’re-recovered. Alright?”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles doesn’t sound convinced

After a brief internal argument, Derek reaches over and takes hold of Stiles’ hand and gives a reassuring squeeze. He’s immeasurably gratified when Stiles sighs happily and the tension melts out of him, his scent spiking sharply with contentment, fingers wriggling slightly to settle between Derek’s. Derek can hardly suppress the echoing sigh from his own chest.

Stiles careens back to drunken rambling quick enough to make Derek’s head spin, but since Stiles is now using their clasped hands to gesture as he speaks, he lets a fond smile curl his lips as a steady stream of mostly nonsense tumbles from Stiles’ lips.

As they reach the Stilinski house, Stiles speech has slowed and gone heavy with sleep, Derek tries and fails to not find it endearing, especially in combination with the lazy drag of Stiles’ thumb along the back of his hand. Derek opens the passenger door to assist Stiles in exiting the car, both of them making small surprised sounds when Stiles stumbles and crashes into Derek’s chest. Derek steps back reluctantly, draping Stiles’ arm over his shoulders and holding his waist. Stiles leans heavily against him, murmurs things like “You’re so strong,” and “All that scruff and you’re so soft under the grrr,” as he draws a finger along Derek’s jaw and stares through barely opened eyes gone hazy with sleep and liquor.

Derek manages to get Stiles upstairs and into his bedroom, settles him on the bed and kneels to remove his shoes. Stiles groans above him and something that sounds an awful lot like “Not fair you’re on your knees and I’m too wasted…” and Derek can feel the rush of blood through his entire body as he catches the meaning. By the time Derek is done with Stiles’ shoes, Stiles is flailing above him, half trapped in the sleeves of his shirt. Derek is torn between watching him struggle and helping him, but the strained, frustrated sound Stiles makes pushes him to help. He very pointedly does not look when the overshirt catches his t-shirt, lifting it to reveal a tantalizing strip of creamy pale skin and a hint of hair leading into the waistband of Stiles’ jeans.

As Stiles falls back into the bed, Derek helps to guide him onto the pillow, wrestles the covers from under him and tucks them gently around the sprawling form of Stiles’ body. He can’t help but smooth Stiles’ hair away from his forehead, the gesture hopelessly fond, and Derek is fairly certain he’s never done it so easily before.

Derek turns to leave the room, return to his own bed to try to sleep, knowing the clock will mock him and that all he’ll be able to do is hear Stiles’ drunken declarations on repeat in his head. As he makes to step away from the bed, his feet gone heavy and uncooperative with reluctance, he feels the brush of clumsy fingers at his wrist, wrapping around it in a loose grasp and sending a pleasant tingle through Derek’s arm, settling warmly in his belly.

Stiles’ voice is sleep soft, but steady, the words cutting through Derek painfully, “Don’t go. Please? I don’t want to be alone, I’m always- please. Don’t go.”

In the face of Stiles’ plea, Derek finds himself not only powerless, but having absolutely zero desire to turn back toward the door. The relieved whimper that Stiles releases as Derek drops gently onto the edge of the bed and turns his hand so their palms meet, threading their fingers back together, is like a punch and an embrace all at once.

They wake in the morning wrapped around each other, and it’s shockingly easy to smile at each other as they untangle their twined limbs.

********

When Derek is visiting Cora, his phone rings, and he smiles at the ridiculous picture Stiles set as his profile. “Hey, you,” he answers fondly, voice going soft and light like it always did now that he and Stiles were DerekandStiles. It quickly bleeds into panic tinged concern at the hitch in Stiles’ breath; the realization that Stiles has been fighting tears, has a reason to be, is a painful weight in Derek’s chest. “What’s wrong, Stiles. What is it?” His urgency is a palpable thing, an uncomfortable sizzle under his skin.

Stiles releases a shuddering breath, “God, I will never not appreciate how the sound of your voice makes everything feel better.” Derek’s worry is ameliorated slightly by the knowledge that he’s a comfort for the hyperactive human he calls his mate.

“I’m glad to hear that, babe, but what’s going on?”

“You’re going to hate it,” Stiles is hesitant, his voice is tinged with uncertainty, and Derek wishes he were there to wrap his arms around Stiles, to hold him and reassure. He makes an affirmative, encouraging sound, “Try me,” he says with more enthusiasm than he feels.

“So, there’s this… thing. Some kind of monster. We haven’t figured it out yet…” Stiles goes on, details a truly horrible plan, one that relies heavily on Scott’s frankly laughable leadership and Stiles as some kind of glorified bait. It’s a shit plan, and Derek does in fact hate it. Hates it so much he’s growling, actually, and it takes Stiles’ pleading “Der, please,” to break him out of it, to wash the red tinge from his vision.

All Derek can do is choke out a pained “Don’t go!” He knows it’s desperate and can’t bring himself to care, “Stiles, please. Please don’t go. This plan is fucking terrible. You know it is. I will get on a plane, I will be there tomorrow morning, just wait. Don’t go, any of you, but you can’t. Please?” He’s begging, and will continue to beg until Stiles agrees, “I can’t lose you. Don’t go. Remember, the night we started this? You asked me the same thing, please, Stiles.”

“Ok, Der, ok, ok. I won’t go. Please, don’t cry. I won’t go.”

Derek takes a deep breath, it catches in his chest, but he pushes past it, “Thank you. Thank you thank you, thank god.”

Derek is on a plane two hours later. Twelve hours after that, Stiles is in his arms; unruly hair sweet smelling and tickling his nose, wide, smiling lips pressed into his own.

*******

When Derek needs to leave Beacon Hills, Stiles understands, he really, truly does. But it also feels like he’s being slowly pulled apart.

They stand quietly in Derek’s loft, silently embracing, Stiles still in his dressy graduation clothes, intermittent tears running down both their faces, until Stiles grips the front of Derek’s shirt tightly, hauls him impossibly close to devour his mouth in a desperate kiss. Their teeth clack, and their tongues swirl together in practiced rhythm, lips dragging slick and wet together. A great, sob of a moan tears out of Stiles’ throat and he buries his face in Derek’s neck.

“I can’t ask you, I know I can’t, but I want to, Der. I want to ask you to stay with me. I want to beg you. To scream ‘Don’t go!’ But I won’t. You deserve to go, to be ha- to find happiness, even if-”

Derek feels his heart breaking; hurting Stiles is killing him. He can’t bear the ache in Stiles’ voice, the sorrow laced through his scent. “Come with me,” rushes past his lips with force and sincerity, and he can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before.

Stiles looks at him, hopeful but unsure, so he kisses the confusion off his face, cradles his jaw with careful hands. “I mean it, Stiles. It’s summer, you don’t start school for months. Come with me. Please?”

The smile that breaks over Stiles’ face is bright and honest, it’s everything Derek loves about the boy.

“Yeah. Ok, yeah, let’s go,” Stiles replies eagerly, peppering Derek’s face with kisses, hands restlessly petting as thigh assuring himself Derek is still there.

Derek laughs lightly, “I thought maybe we’d have a last go in a real bed, before it’s all motel rooms and truck stops for a while. And you know, pack, first.”

Stiles makes a considering sound, “Both good things. I’m especially interested in the first part,” he grins as he grabs Derek’s hands, walking backwards toward the bed.

********

Two and a half incredible months later, they’re laying naked in a motel bed, tangled together and still catching their breath, trailing gentle fingertips over one another’s faces, cataloging details. Preparing for time apart.

Stiles’ half packed suitcase sits on a luggage stand across the room, taunting them with the short time they have left measured out in clean and dirty socks.

Derek traces the curve of Stiles’ mouth, their eyes searching, but unwilling to leave the others gaze for more than a second or two. “You know-” the words are stuck in his throat, heavy on his tongue, he clears them away with a hard swallow, “I want to ask you. I guess it’s my turn to know better, huh?” He laughs without a traces of humor, and Stiles kisses his furrowed brow, smooths it with a long finger.

“You’re not ready to not be moving, and Berkley is pretty stationary, babe,” Stiles answers easily, his voice tinged with regret. “I understand,”he says, quieter than the rest, but without a stutter in his heartbeat, and Derek would know it’s true even without the added senses. Because Stiles understands Derek probably better than Derek does, and the loss of his constant presence is already aching dully in his chest.

“I’m going to have to say it. Just once. It’s practically tradition, now,” Derek attempts to joke, but the truth is it feels like the words are tearing at his throat.

Stiles kisses him, long and slow, as if to cool the burn of the things he can’t say. It almost works. They part reluctantly, hands and lips both clinging together, and it breaks out of him with a sob, “Don’t go.”

Stiles gathers him close, let’s Derek bury his face in his chest, strokes his back in soothing circles and holds his neck. “I have to,” he says simply, pressing kisses to Derek’s head. “But I promise I’ll always come back to you, wherever you are, until you’re ready.”

When they wake some time later, Stiles has to leave. Derek drives him to the bus station, because Stiles wouldn’t let him set a foot in California until he was ready to. Derek isn’t sure he will be, but he wishes he was now so he could steal those last miles with him.

********

They wake to cool morning light filtered through the curtains, and the muted sound of a cell phone ringing in the other room.

It’s been six months since they last got to wake up together, and it feels indulgent and surreal all at once. Video chats and constant phone calls and texts are an ok way to bridge the distance, but there is nothing so wonderful as waking up like this. Sleep warm skin and muscled limbs tangled together, warm breath on the back of his neck. Stiles is afraid it’s a dream.

Derek wakes, runs his nose along Stiles neck and places a long, hot kiss there. “Morning,” he says sleepily, arms tightening briefly before he shifts in the bed. Stiles panics, grabs Derek’s forearms in suddenly shaking hands, “Don-.”

Before he can finish, Derek is wrapping himself around him again, “Not going anywhere, babe. You’re not either.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, calms his heartbeat. “Sounds perfect, because I have plans for us that don’t involve leaving this bed unless it’s to hydrate or pee.”

Derek laughs into Stiles’ shoulder, the sound rich and deep, the rumble in his chest echoes through Stiles’ chest pleasantly. “I like the sound of that.”

********

A small cry pierces the predawn quiet, and Stiles and Derek startle awake at the same time. They blink tiredly at one another for a moment, taking time to acclimate and assess.

Stiles smiles at Derek, notices the slight greying of his still artful stubble, the lines starting to show around his eyes that he knows are from laughter instead of worry.

Derek smiles back, taking in the defined jawline, and the more beard than stubble that his husband has favored these last few years.

They say in unison “I’ll go,” and then laugh, kiss. Let it linger just a moment until the baby reminds them why they’re awake so early. Stiles places a quick kiss on Derek’s cheek, runs his thumb over his jaw briefly.

“You got her down last time, it’s my turn. Go back t’ sleep.” Derek makes a sound that Stiles takes as agreement, and he heads to the nursery across the hall, scooping up the small, unhappy bundle from the crib and settling her against his chest.

When Derek stumbles in moments later, Stiles is in the rocking chair, cradling their daughter and dozing slightly. Derek crosses the distance with a few long strides and moves to take the baby from her current Daddy shaped pillow and back to her own bed, intending to do the same with Stiles after, when he feels familiar fingertips against his wrist.

He looks down to where Stiles is holding him, turns his palm so their fingers thread together with the ease of years of practice. They smile at one another for long moments, until the sun starts to rise and add a warm glow to the soft lilac walls.

Wrong Loves My Company Pt 5

A/N: Part 5 woot woot ! As always thanks to the bae @writing-obrien. This fic would not exist if not for her. I proof read this once so there’s probably a lot of mistakes still. But would you expect anything else from me ? 😇Also, I’ve used this gif several times, but it still sexy so I’m not sorry ;)

Warning: SMUTTTTTT ! (NSFW 18+)

Word Count: 4250

Parts 1-4: [here]

Originally posted by hothothotgg


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Beauty and the beast

A/N: I came up with this idea whilst practicing for my singing exam (yeah, beauty and the beast for grade 1 exam in march…fun) so anyway, here’s some Galra!Keith x reader!

Originally posted by thirdmagic

Tale as old as time

Echoes of your horse’s footprints against the cobblestone grew louder and louder as you approached the desolate castle. Your father was missing and this is where your horse had led you. Whatever had happened to him, it couldn’t have been good. Landing on the ground, you swept your dress up as you walked up the steps leading to the door…which had been broken open…strange, you thought. Your horse protesting whinnying in fear. “Shush, I’ll be back with papa soon. Don’t worry.” You reassured her.

True as it can be

Lifting a lit candelabra, you carried on your brave journey through the abandoned castle…or so you thought. “She might be the one!” you heard a voice whisper shout. “Who’s there?!” You called out. “Me.” A voice announced. “Who?” you asked nobody in particular. “I said me.” As if trying to prove a point the candelabra in your hand pointed at its self. “Oh!” You dropped the candelabra in shock. “Now that was rude.” The talking candelabra. You got down on your knees. “You’re…alive?” it was supposed to come out as a statement but ended up being a question. “Why, yes. Now if you don’t mind. I will introduce myself. I am Lance.” The candlestick bowed and reached out to your hand as if to kiss it, but you were scared it was going to drip hot candlewax on you so you pulled your hand away from the objects reach. “Lance, you don’t even know if she is compatible with the prince and you’re just going to assume things?” Another voice called out. “Who was that?” you asked Lance. “Pidge.” Lance responded almost sourly.

Barely even friends

 “Don’t you go and say my name like that Lance! You know I’m right.” A small clock started stumbling off an overturned table. “Hello, my fair lady. I am Pidge.” The polite clock bowed in front of you, now beside Lance. “How are you two like that?” you asked curiously. You knew you had been asking for adventure, but you didn’t expect it to come in the form of magic. “Well, the castle is under a tragic curse unfortunately.” Pidge started. “I’m sorry, I would love to hear the story behind the castle but I need to find my papa.” You told the personified objects, getting up from the floor. “Wait!” they called after you, waddling and hopping after you in urgency.

Then somebody bends

As you climbed the stairs leading upwards towards the top of the castle. You started to notice how most of the other non-talking objects in the castle had been destroyed or overturned. Most of the faces on the paintings decorating the hallways had been riddled with…were those claw marks? Whatever curse that had taken over this castle…it must have been a powerful one. Yet the candelabra and the clock kept on following you, up and up you went and they would not give up on stopping you. No matter how short their legs were. “Wait! My lady you don’t know what you are getting into!” Pidge called after you. “I can defend myself thank you!” You shouted back at him. You didn’t like to be told what you could and couldn’t do. No matter how hard the task was.

Unexpectedly

“Papa?” You called out as you finally got to the top of the castle. “Y/N! You shouldn’t be here!” Your papa worried from a cell. You ran over to him, kneeling down beside him, holding his hand through the bars. “Papa, what is this place?” You asked feebly. Worried for your father’s welfare. “Y/N, you shouldn’t have come, this castle is alive!” he stressed. “I’ve noticed, and just like that the candelabra and little cogs worth clock caught up with you. “My lady!” Pidge retaliated. “Y/N, they are kind but there is something else living here, a beast!” Your father had fear in his eyes. And that was when you realised, the claw marks, the overturned furniture. Suddenly, you had this feeling you were being watched when the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.

Just a little change

“What are you doing here?” a gravelly voice called out from the darkness of the prison. “I’ve come to retrieve my father.” You furrowed your brows in anger at the person who had treated your father in such a cruel way. “Visitors aren’t welcome here.” Was all he said. “Well, I apologise for my father’s trespasses, but can you please let him go?” You asked. “No…he must serve for his crime.” The voice relented. “Why? He didn’t do anything!” You shouted at the dark corner. Suddenly, yellow eyes glowed from the corner of the room. You gasped slightly, you weren’t expecting this. I mean…stuff like this only existed in story books? Right?

Small to say the least

You squinted at the eyes following your trembling form. “There must be something I can do?” You questioned to yourself more than to the mysterious figure in the dark. “Well then he shouldn’t have come here!” The voice yelled, making you shrink back towards your beloved father. “Wait! I’ll do anything…” You tried to bargain. “…take me instead.” You refused to think over it. You didn’t want your father to die in this place, scared half to death. “Y/N no!” your father protested. “You…you would, do that for him?” the voice softened slightly. “If I did, would you let him go?” You asked. “Yes…but you most promise to stay here forever.” The voice bargained. Before you could agree, you needed answers, squinting your eyes slightly. “Come into the light.” You stated. You heard small footsteps before a figure stepped into the light.

Both a little scared

You gasped as the figure revealed himself to you, purple fur riddled his being, cat like ears sprouting from the sides of his head. He had yellow eyes with no pupils, black claws and sharp teeth. Turning back towards your father he searched your eyes for some other way. “NO Y/n, I won’t let you do this!” he refused, but it was too late. “You have my word.” You stepped into the light, in front of the figure. “Done.” He growled before dragging your father out of his cell. And away from your sobbing form. “Papa!” you called out. You didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Neither one prepared

It had been a few days since the beast had taken you as prisoner, you had refused to come out of your room. The wardrobe was the only thing that kept you company. He comforted you through the whole ordeal of being trapped forever under the beast’s control. “Oh, Coran, what am I going to do?” you sobbed. “Trust me kiddo, the master has good intentions, once you get underneath all of the fur and…well, meanness.” Coran summed up. Just great, you were never going to leave. But you couldn’t stay in your room forever, you’d have to eat sooner or later. And just as if on cue, the beast knocked on your door. “What is it?” You asked, distress clearly found in your voice. “Would you like to come down for dinner?” he asked. “No.” you responded blatantly. He let out a small growl. “Would you like to come down to dinner please?” He asked once again in a much angrier tone. “No, thank you!” you refused once again. You then heard a murmur of conversation from behind the door. “It would give me the greatest honour if you would join me for dinner…please.” He tried once again. “I said no, thank you!” you shouted back at the door. How could he imprison you forever and then just expect you to both get along like old friends?! It was so unheard of!

Beauty and the beast

“Fine! You can’t stay in there forever!” he yelled. “I can and I will.” You promised. “Ugh! Fine, go ahead and starve for all I care!” he continued to scream and shout before you heard him stomp down the corridor…this was hopeless. Later on, the objects of the castle took pity on you and snook you down stairs for dinner, unknown to the master. They sung you a lovely tune whilst you ate and everything was so divine and delicious. And like Lance sang, nothing came second best! Afterwards, you grew curious towards the rest of the castle. “Hey Pidge…I bet you know everything there is to know about the castle.” You poked the clockwork’s chest slightly. “Well…well I, yes, yes I do.” Pidge’s clock face practically steamed up.

Ever just the same

Exploring the castle, you all took a stroll down a corridor lined with knights armour on either side. It was like it had just come out of one of your story books. “This is amazing.” You breathed. It truly was, even though the architecture of the building had grown grotesque and gothic, it was truly a marvel to look at. But when Lance and Pidge told you about the forbidden west wing of the castle, you couldn’t help but grow curious. Whilst distracting them, you jumped up the stairs at the first chance you got. Sometimes your curious mind just wouldn’t quit. As you wandered down the hall, you realised everything had grown more destructive and even more desolate. Like a hurricane had ripped its way through here. You came across a portrait where a pair of kind brown eyes stared at you, not being able to see the rest of the persons face, due to most of the painting hanging off the frame due to more claw marks, you tried to raise the fabric and see the rest of the strangers face before you heard something get knocked over. Thinking it was the beast, you ran into the nearest room to hide.

Ever a surprise

Almost tripping on multiple objects, you navigated yourself through the room until you came across an almost pristine table. Where a rose floated, a jar being placed above and around it as if it was the most precious thing in the world. In curiosity, you got swept up from your own common sense and decided to lift the glass jar to investigate. But as soon as you did, you heard a growl from the other side of the room. Turning around you saw the beast, he was staring at you angrily with his yellow eyes, he looked as if he were ready to slice your throat with his jet black claws and paint the walls of the castle with your blood. Continuing to growl, he then prowled towards, growing more furious with every step he took. Snatching the jar from your hands he placed it back over the rose protectively. His yellow eyes fell on to you…you couldn’t seem to find a soul behind them.

Ever as before

“Why did you come here?” He snarled, his lip curled upwards, revealing more of his fangs. “I’m, I’m sorry.” You stumbled over your words in fear of what he would do to you. “You were told it was forbidden to come here. You knew and you came anyway!” he shouted. “Do you realise what you could have done!” He then back handed what was left of an overturned table, snapping the leg of it clean off. Startling you greatly, you backed away, your back pressing up against what was left of a wardrobe. “Get out!” he said in a low and dangerous tone. “wha-” “I SAID GET OUT!” He practically roared in hatred. You dashed out of the room before he could hit you and snap you in half as well.

Ever just as sure

“What? Where are you going?!” Lance shouted in protest. “Anywhere but here! I’m sorry!” You shouted back at Pidge and Lance as you made for the door. Finding your horse outside you swung your leg over the saddle and rode into the dark wood. But as your horse started to buck and quake, wolves emerged from behind the trees, growling in anticipation of their next meal. Your horse ran away from them in fear, but they were a lot faster and stronger. They started to snap and howl at your horse’s legs, managing to keep up with you at a steady pace. Before you could get any further away from them, ice broke beneath your horse’s hooves. Finding yourself engulfed in icy water. One of the wolves snapped and whined as it drowned into the depths. Managing to make it out of the water, you continued to gallop away from the predators, but they jumped in front of you before you could go any further.

As the sun will rise

In fear, your horse threw you off. Landing in the snow, you got back up to protect your friend. Grabbing the nearest fallen tree branch, you began to hit any pouncing wolves in the head. But before you could get back on your horse and charge away. One of the wolves ripped the branch out of your grip, leaving you and your horse defenceless. Game over. One of them pounced on you, biting and dragging you by your cloak. But before another one could bite or snap off any of your body parts, the wolf was ripped away from you mid-jump. Suddenly the beast appeared, roaring in the wolf’s face. He then began to protect you, nothing but hostility on his face as he leaned over you. As if using his body as a human shield. He then began to attack the wolves, even though they constantly bit and ripped into his fur and flesh. He was crazy.

Tale as old as time

They relentlessly attacked him, but he kept on tearing and ripping them away from him. Throwing them into nearby trees as if they weighed nothing. In fear, the rest of the wolf pack ran away, knowing there was another predator much larger and scarier than them. The beast stood alone in the snow as it fell, he looked almost at home, in the woods. As if he belonged here. Before you could get a word of thanks out, he turned towards you, revealing blood pouring out numerous deep gashes on his forearm. He fell into the snow, clearly exhausted. Turning to your horse, you considering running away back to your village and father, leaving him here to die in the cold. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to leave him, after all…he had just saved your life. You ran towards his passed out form, ripping your cloak from your shoulders to keep him warm. Carrying him onto your horse, you then led her back to the castle.

Tune as old as song

As soon as you got back to the castle, you settled the master into his chair. Having Allura, the teapot, pour some hot water into a basin, so you could clean his wound. Wringing out the towel, you made your way over to the now conscious beast, who was licking his wound. “Here, don’t do that.” You scolded lightly, but he just growled at you, as if nothing had changed. The objects backed away in fear of what he would do. You reached out towards him, hoping he would relent, but he just continued to move his arm away from you. “Just hold still!” you ordered, the towel brushed against his arm slightly, causing him to roar in pain. “That hurts!” He shouted in your face. “Well, if you just held still it wouldn’t hurt as much!” you shot back. “If you hadn’t run away, this wouldn’t have happened!” He carried on, gesturing to his wounded arm. “Well if you hadn’t scared me half to death I wouldn’t have ran away.” You settled. The beast looked for something to shoot back at you but his face fell as you had won the argument. But a smile erupted onto his face as he came up with something “Well, you shouldn’t have been in the west wing!” He pointed out triumphantly. “Well you should learn to control your temper.” You settled.

Bittersweet and strange

“Now hold still.” You held his arm gently. “This might sting a little.” You added before pressing the towel to his arm. He cringed away in pain as you began to clean the wound. “By the way…thank you for saving my life.” You continued gratefully. His face relaxed tremendously before turning back to you and responding in a calm tone, “You’re welcome.”

Finding you can change

Later on in the week, you found yourself strolling the grounds with your horse in tow. Your eyes travelling around the snow filled garden before your horse nuzzled you in the back. Turning around, you hugging your horse happily. Little did you know, the beast was watching you from one of the balconies, conversing with Pidge and Lance. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” He mumbled aloud, looking down at his bandaged arm. “I must do something for her.” He declared confidently. “But what?” a confused expression fell across his face as he turned to his friends. “Well, there are the usual things, flowers, chocolates, promises you don’t intend to keep.” Pidge listed off. “No, no, no. It has to be something special. Something that sparks her interest. Wait! I got it!” Lance held up his arm as if to click, but all that happened was his flame flickered.

Learning you were wrong

A couple of hours later and you find yourself being led towards a pale white door by none other than the beast himself. “I want to show something to you.” He declared, gesturing to the door. His ears flapped excitedly, he was so much different now you thought. It was like all that anger had just dissolved from his being. He began to open the door, but closed it instead turning to you with excited eyes rather than angry ones. “But first you must close your eyes.” You gave him a sceptically look but obeyed anyway. He bit his lip in anticipation as his eyes scanned your peaceful face. ‘God, she was beautiful.’ He thought to himself, blushing dark purple at the thought. As he led you into the room by your hands you asked “Can I open them?” the beast turned back towards you, an excited glint in his eye. “No, not yet…wait here.” He left your side for a moment.

Certain as the sun

You heard him opening numerous curtains before you asked “Now, can I open them?” you asked with a slight laugh in your voice. “Alright…now.” The beast whispered gently. Opening your eyes, revealed thousands upon thousands of books. It was a huge library. The one that Pidge and Lance had told you about but nothing got the time to show you. It was simply breath-taking. “I can’t believe it; I have never seen so many book in my life.” You twirled around in a circle just so you could take it all in. “Really? You like it?” He asked. “Yes, it’s wonderful.” You walked around him, looking through all the different shades of leather. “Then it’s yours.” He declared, a smile brightening up his features. “Thank you so much.” You turned towards him, taking his hands in yours. The objects were staring at you all from the door, fangirling among themselves as they declared that it was working. “What’s working?!” Hunk, the teacup asked, jumping up and down to try and see. “Allura, I don’t understand!” He pouted. “All in good time Hunk, all in good time.” Allura chided.

Rising in the east

Over the next couple of days after that, you and the beast grew gradually closer and closer. It started with breakfast together. Where the utensils would make you porridge, you would politely use your spoon and sip away from your bowl. But the beast just devoured his greedily with no eating utensils whatsoever. It was kind of a turnoff for you. Looking away in embarrassment you continued to eat your porridge. After getting encouraging looks from Hunk and Allura, the beast tried to eat with a spoon at the side of his bowl. He couldn’t use it very well after so long, but instead you offered him an encouraging smile and held up your bowl. Smiling at you the beast mimicked your movements, doing the same. You both toasted each other before you sipped from the bowls. Then you both fed the birds in the garden, you showed him how to get the birds to go into your hand with the help of the seeds. He seemed very happy about this accomplishment, which made his ears perk up in joy. You giggled at the cute expression. There was suddenly something that hadn’t been there before. It then suddenly turned into a snowball fight, which you both greatly enjoyed.

Tale as old as time

That night, the beast took a bath, nervously blowing bubbles into the water as if contemplating on whether he should drown himself. “Calm down your majesty, tonight is the night. You will be bold, daring!” Lance encouraged. “Bold, daring!” The beast repeated beginning to shake as he rid himself of all the water matted in his fur. “And when the moment is right! You confess your love.” Lance sighed dreamily. “I…I can? No, no I can’t.” he discouraged himself. “You care for the girl don’t you?” Lance pointed at him with a flickering hand/candle. “More than anything.” The beast stared at his reflection in the mirror, revealing the adoration he held in his eyes for her. “Well then you must tell her!” Lance instructed. The coat hanger then continued on styling the beast’s hair, resulting in a short ponytail tied off with a red ribbon. Pidge then scuttled into the room, clearing their throat as they did. “Your lady…awaits.” He gestured towards the door.

Song as old as rhyme

You gracefully strolled down the stairs, wearing an over the shoulder yellow dress, revealing your curves yet plooming out below your waist. Your Y/H/C hair put up into a bun while the rest of your hair cascaded over your shoulders. To put it simply you looked absolutely stunning. So stunning, the beast was stunned into silence. He looked to Lance for guidance, him giving the best thumbs up he could muster before he took a deep breath, meeting you halfway. He was dressed in a red suit, making him look rather dashing, his hair tied up into a ponytail, revealing his jaw line more even though it was hidden under purple fur. You smiled at him all the same, he offered you his arm, taking it gratefully you let him lead you down the stairs.

Beauty and the beast

You had dinner, the beast tried his best to eat politely, which made your heart warm with how much effort he had put into making tonight special. It truly made you happy that he had grown to care for you so much. As the coat hanger began to play the violet, you grew excited. Getting up from your chair, you ran over to the beast, grabbing his hands in excitement, leading him to the ballroom. He looked at your hesitantly, afraid that if he held you too tight, he might break you. As you entered the ball room, you led him to the centre of it. Placing your right hand in his left, you guided his right to lie on your waist. You saw him gulp nervously, he certainly wasn’t used to such close contact with a beautiful girl like you. As you pulled yourself closer towards his body, you gave him an encouraging smile before you started to dance with him. Your dress twirled out beneath you as he twirled you around, he may not admit it, but he was a good dancer.

Tale as old as time

You grew to be happy with him by your side, resting your head on his chest, you enjoyed the moment as best as you could. Little did you know that the beast was looking over at his friends in excitement with nothing on his face except the expression that said ‘it’s working!’. But the night had to come to an end eventually. So he led you out onto the balcony, where you both gazed at the stars. Sitting down beside him, you nervously fiddled with your dress, doing your best to hide your blush underneath the darkness of the sky. But the beast was well prepared to confess his love for you. “Y/N?” he asked hesitantly, shuffled a tad bit closer to you. He took your hand, “Are you happy here with me?” he started. “yes.” You answered without even thinking about it. The beast smiled in happiness, but you looked towards the sky in sadness. There was just one thing. “What is it?” the beast asked, noticing your discomfort. “I just wish I could see my father again; I miss him so much.” You confessed. You knew it was selfish to ruin such a perfect moment with your thoughts, but it had to be said sooner or later. The beast thought deeply before coming up with an answer to your problems, leading you up to his room, he showed you the magic mirror. Placing it in your palms, the beast trusted you with it. “Just ask it.” He told you. “I would like to see my father…please.” You asked. Before you could prepare for what was supposed to come next, an image of your father falling down on a country lane crackled to life on the mirror’s surface. “Oh no!” you cried “What is it? What’s going on?” the beast asked, concerned for your father. “My father, he is ill, maybe even dying and he’s all alone!” you explained. If only there were a way…the beast looked down at the magical rose, another petal fell from it as it drooped. He was running out of time. “Then…then you must go to him.” He turned away, almost as if the words physically pained him. “What did you say?” you couldn’t believe it. “I release you.” He stated louder. “That means…I’m free?” you asked yourself. “Yes.” He confirmed sadly. You turned away to go retrieve your father but before you left you turned back to return the mirror to the beast. “No…keep it.” He pushed it back into your hands. “So you can always look back…and remember me.” He added softly, brushing his fingers through your hair fondly. You were going to miss him. You wanted to hug him goodbye, but you felt as if you did that, it would just make leaving harder. Leaving the room, you ignored Pidge looking dreamily up at you as he entered the room. “Ah…I’m guessing we’ll be human again in no time, huh?” They started. “I let her go.” The beast answered. “Ah yes…young love so romant-wait, wait, you did what?!” Pidge realised. “How could you do that?!” they shouted in distress. “I had to.” He replied softly. “But why?” Pidge cried. “Because…I love her.” he looked downwards as if her not being in his presence caused him pain.

Song as old as rhyme

Leaving the castle, you found your father on the country road and brought him back to your little town. “Oh papa, please don’t ever do that again. You gave me such a fright!” you told him as you fed him soup. “I’m sorry Y/N, but I couldn’t leave you with that…that beast!” your father cried. “Oh but papa, it turns out he’s so much nicer than he made out to be. He’s kind and considerate, he cares about me.” You told him gently. “Sounds like someone has a little crush?” your father wiggled his eyebrows at you. “What? Papa!” you slapped his arm playfully. But something didn’t feel right. You missed the beast so much. Going outside you looked up at the stars. Taking out the mirror, you held it up as you spoke the words “Please, show me the beast.” You asked politely. The mirror crackled to life as it revealed to you the beast, he was lying down in a field near the castle. It looked like as if he had lost the will to live, he wasn’t dying was he? But the curse…the rose…it barely had any petals left!? Does that mean when the petals run out he dies?! NO! this can’t be happening. You had no time to lose. “I’m sorry Papa, the beast is in danger I must go help him!” You shouted to him as you jumped onto your horse once again. “Be careful Y/n!” you heard your father shout out after you. “I will!”

Beauty and the beast

As soon as you got back to the gates of the castle, you launched yourself off the back of your horse and ran as fast as you could to the gardens. You turned around frantically, trying to decipher exactly where you saw him in the mirror. Running to a path leading out of the garden, you followed the path, hoping with all your being, you would find him before it was too late. “Beast! Beast, where are you!” You cried out. “Y/N?” the beast called out. You ran over to his side. “Oh Beast, what is happening to you?” you began to cry. “I’m dying Y/N.” He answered sadly. “But why? I want you to stay.” You took his hand and held it to your face, showing that you weren’t afraid of his claws or his fur. You truly cared about him. “I’m sorry Y/N…I was going to tell you that night, under better circumstances.” He started to cough. He really was dying. Tears starting to stream down your face. “What? What were you going to tell me?” you urged him, placing you hand on his cheek so he would stay awake. “I was going to tell you…that I love you…and I always will.” He finished, tears in his own eyes. “Oh beast, I love you too.” You moved quickly as you bent down to meet his lips, giving him a true love’s kiss. But before anything else could happen fireworks started to set off, literal fireworks. Sparkles of light shot out of the beast’s limp body as he fell dead. He was then lifted into the air by some invisible force. Being turned around as light shot out from his arms and legs and finally his head. You started to panic, what was happening? As the beast fell back to the ground, you waited to see if he could move. Lance, Allura and Hunk watched from the side-lines, silent tears running down their faces as they watched what was going on, but not from sadness, from joy. You backed away as the figure began to move. He stood up, admiring his skin coloured hand and touching his ears before turning to you. Revealing a human man, with dark hair, brown eyes and white pearly teeth. Who was this person? “Y/N, it’s me.” He confirmed. You walked up to him, placing your hand on his cheek hesitantly. He leaned into your touch, showing you how much adoration he held for you in his eyes. “It is you!” you cried. “Wait…I never really asked you for your name?” you asked him. “I’m Prince Keith, and I’m hoping you will become my queen.” He looked at you seductively. Blushing under his gaze you just mumbled a shut up before pulling him closer to you so he could kiss you. His lips melding into yours as more fireworks set off.

Beauty and the beast

Before you knew it, it was your first dance after your wedding. You were married to Keith and you were now his queen. Your father, Allura, Hunk, Coran, Pidge and Lance all stood to the side, happily human again. Watching happily as you stared into each other’s eyes with nothing but how much love you held for each other. “Are they gonna live happily ever after Allura?” Hunk asked her. “Yes, my dear friend. Yes indeed.” She nodded. “Wait…do I still need to sleep in the cupboard?” he asked, making all his friends laugh as they celebrated throughout the night. They could finally live the rest of their lives as happily as they could. What about Y/N and Keith? Well, they both lived happily ever after.

THE END

:’) aw thank you so much i loved making those

i think i know exactly what you’re trying to say, coming right up!

(also i’m really really sorry this took so long i desperately need a new laptop bc mine is trash and keeps not working well when i try to write)

-mik


SF9 SCENARIO: Them Saving You From A Conversation You Want To Get Out Of

Keep reading

Brash Hope

Summary: You had a fling with Dean fifteen years ago and now he wants back into your life, but like all things, it’s complicated.

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam (mentioned), OMC Dylan

Word Count:  4756

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), slight angst

A/N:  This is a 2-part story the second installment will go up later this week.  Italics are memories you can read part two HERE.  This fic wouldn’t have happened without some very important people:

@wheresthekillswitch thank you for being my beta on this.  You are brilliant at finding the weak spots and helping me fix them.

@arryn-nyxx thank you for the AMAZING aesthetic you captured the story so perfectly.

@pinknerdpanda thank you for reading it and giving me your expert angst opinions.

If you’d like to be tagged please send me an ask.

It was days like this that were the hardest.  The days where your mind decided to replay one of the best weeks of your life.

Fifteen years ago you lived in this small coastal town in southern Maine with your mom.  Every summer, for as long as you could remember, you worked in your mom’s bar.  The summer of your senior year was no different.  It was going to be the last time you worked there before you left for college in the fall.  The town was buzzing with tourists and the bar was full but still you noticed him right away.  He was tall with a cocky smile and the greenest eyes you had ever seen.

Your breath caught in your throat when he noticed you staring at him.  Heat flushed your face as you quickly looked down concentrating on wiping down the bar.  The next time you looked up he was gone.  You retrieved clean glasses from the kitchen and walking back out you almost squeaked when you saw him sitting at the bar.  You stayed behind the bar stacking the clean glasses when he leaned over.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said smiling at you.  “How ‘bout a beer?” he asked.

“How ‘bout some ID?” you asked cocking your eyebrow.

He couldn’t be much older than you and you’d just turned eighteen.  He laughed and licked his lips.

“Sure,” he said reaching into his back pocket.

He pulled out his wallet before handing you his ID.  You looked at it and looked back up at him.

“So, Freddy, what brings you here from Minnesota?  By the way you look great for 48,” you laughed handing his ID back.  “Nice try.”

“Shit,” he looked through his wallet again.  “Sorry, that was a joke, my brother, he…”

Green eyes handed you another ID.  You looked down at it and handed it back to him.  Hmm, 23.

“Ok, Dean, what’ll it be?”

He smiled, his cocky grin finding its place on his face once more.

“What’d you recommend, sweetheart.”

“We’ve got a nice blonde on tap,” you suggest.“

Then I’ll take that.”

You poured his beer setting it down in front of him before going back to stacking glasses.  Dean stayed at the bar drinking his beer and looking around.  As you stacked your last glass he caught your eye.“

So what’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I always like to know the names of beautiful women.”

You laughed; he was cheesy, but also kind of adorable.

Keep reading

The Joker x Reader - “Operation Broken Twig”

You were trying to dust off the vaulted ceiling at the penthouse, fell off the ladder and broke your right ankle and left wrist. You’ll be out of commision for a while and The Joker is not sure what to do with you yet: being gentle and sympathetic are definitely not his strengths.

Almost 12 at night

You struggle to move your body closer to J in a pitiful attempt to cuddle. He just watches you squirm, not helping one bit, adamant in not scooting over. The proud recipient of a huge smug grin on his face.

“What?” you ask, panting from the effort when you finally reach your destination that was only a few inches away but took a lot of work due to your present misfortune.

“I’m plotting your murder, Doll, gotta put you out of your misery. You look so pathetic, just like a broken twig. What would be the best way to send you off to a better place, hm?” he pretends to debate, but you realize he’s probably 50% serious.

“No killing,” you yawn, placing your casted arm on his shoulder since you can’t really hug him.

“This thing is heavy, I don’t like it,” The Joker pushes your hand away. You whimper, discontent at his gesture.

“Don’t be mean to me, I am already very uncomfortable,” you remind him and bury your face in his neck, all needy and whiny for once. He’s not used to you like this because…well, nothing like this happened before.

“I was thinking to suffocate you with a pillow after you fall asleep, what do you think?” he pretends not to hear your words.

“No killing I said,” you pout and immediately smile when his arm goes around your waist. “Hey, baby, would you be sad if I’d die?” you inquire, curious to see what aberration he’ll come up with. He always has some smart ass answer.

“Maybe…” You elbow him. “Probably…” You start  a fake cry on his shoulder. “Definitely…” he growls when you bite his skin “…NOT.”

“I know you’d miss me, don’t pretend,” you sniffle.

“Yeah, of couuurrseeee, how could I not miss such a huge pain in my butt?!” he sarcastically answers.

“Hey, are you rolling your eyes?”

“How did you know?” more sass comes your way, thanks to your boyfriend’s supporting attitude. J is a natural when it comes to this stuff.  T__T

“I felt a soft breeze and I figured it must be from your fluttering eyelashes. Auuuchhh,” the laud spank you felt through the fabric of your boy-shorts make you scream. “Hey, that really hurt! I don’t need more pain!!!”

“Perfect, precisely what I was aiming for.” He is very satisfied with himself, you can tell by the tone in his voice. “Since we’re reached such a positive place right now…”

“A-ha,” you mutter, not convinced.

“…I was hoping we can have some fun. I’m in the mood!” he smacks his lips and you giggle, forgetting you were upset.

“Is there a day when you’re not in the mood, J?”

“No, not really. Come on, Y/N, Daddy wants you.”

“Hold on,” you fight to get on your elbow, because, you know, you’re in the mood also but was too lazy to do something about it. Plus, with a casted arm and ankle, it’s not the easiest. ”Stay where you are, I’m coming,” you huff, kind of rolling over and kind of crawling on top of him.

Man, this is more entertaining than any show, J laughs to himself, resting both hands under his head, just lying there, enjoying you straining so much and not doing anything to help. It won’t be fun if he does.

You finally manage to straddle him and take a deep breath, already tired. You begin to pull your tank top over your head with the good hand and your head gets stuck inside it. It’s really hard to do things with one arm.

“J…J…can you help me please? I’m trapped.”

“Naaahh, figure it out, Pumpkin,” he snickers and you get frustrated.

“Help me out! I can’t breathe,” you complain, pulling on the fabric but it won’t budge.

“Good, this way you can put yourself out of the misery and I won’t have to do anything,” The Joker laughs but helps you and now you’re free. “Why do you even wear clothes, Princess? Sleep naked like me, I’m ready to go at any time,” he points out.

“You know I usually sleep naked too, but now that I’m like this it actually feels more soothing wearing clothes, OK?” And you lean over to kiss him but he must say it:

“How are you going to take your underwear off, huh? I’m not helping you, do it yourself.”

“Oh, come on,” you sigh, flustered. “Stop being stubborn and help a woman in need, would you? I know you want to,” you wink, wishing you didn’t have to depend on his whims.

J pushes you off him and you land on your back, felling a sharp pain in your ankle.

“Hey, be gentle!” you admonish him, annoyed he’s so reckless.

“I am! I didn’t break another arm or leg, did I ??!! Be grateful I’m taking care of things,” he pulls on your boy-shorts, licking his lips.

“Taking care of things?!” you almost shout when he eagerly yanks them off you, tossing them to the side of the bed.

“You really look like a turtle on its back, compleeeeetely helpless. I really need to put you out of your misery,” he grins, creeping up on top of you, biting his way up to your neck.

“No killing,” you moan, accidentally resting your casted arm on his back, even if you know he hates it.

“Too heavy,” he mumbles and pushes it away. “Just use your other arm, Kitten, yes?”

“Yes, your Majesty, sorry to…Auuucchhhh,” you fret when you feel the skin burning under another spank.

“Ahhhh, so unfortunate you have an attitude when, in fact, you can’t afford to. I’m gonna punish you and there’s nothing you can do about it,” J closes his eyes for a few seconds, taking it all in, pleased to take revenge.

“Like…ummmm…what exactly are we talking about here?” you gulp, staring in his blue eyes that got darker at the mischievous immediate future he has in store for you.

“You should have worried about it before you opened your mouth Doll,” your boyfriend snarls, getting on his knees.

*******************

You hop using your crutches, determined to get on the scale. J lifts his head from his laptop, intrigued at your action. He’s in bed, enjoying a slow morning.

“What are you doing, Pumpkin?!”

“Weighting myself,” you inform him, balancing on the glass plate, waiting for the digits to show up.

“What for?!” J wants to know, intrigued.

But you don’t answer:

“Oh my God, I gained 5 pounds!” you cover your mouth in shock.

“So?” he narrows his eyes, not getting what the fuss is all about.

“I gained 5 pounds since last week!!” and it doesn’t make you happy to say the least.

“I don’t care, get over it; more for Daddy to love,” he chuckles, blowing his green hair off his face. He certainly doesn’t give a crap about this new issue of yours.

“I care!” you frown, worried. “It will be a while until I can take the cast off, what am I supposed to do?!? I can’t work out, I can’t really even walk…There is only one way I can burn calories right now,” and you glare at the Joker since he’s your only hope.

“Let me guess…” he nonchalantly chuckles. “More sex?”

You keep on nodding yes, desperate.

“Want me to land my services even more than I already do?”

More nodding, more despair.

“Wanna kill me, woman?!”

“No, I just wanna put you out of your misery,” you smirk, hoping back to the bed.

J starts laughing, pleased your quirky whit actually delights him most of the time. 

“Come on, baby, take one for the team,” you beg, leaning your crutches against the nightstand, and using your fingers from the good hand to walk them down his abs, pouting in anticipation.

“You are soooo damn lucky I don’t want to kill you 100% of the time,” and you know you’ll have to listen to a very well put together speech, but you gotta if you want to reach your goal. He keeps on rambling: “I have murderous intents to each and single person I know or don’t know, but you…you’re unique: I only feel like killing you 90% of the time.”

“Woooww, you really know how to make a girl feel special J,” you praise him and the sarcasm in your voice is still evident.

Well, you never learn.

He lifts you up on the bed, dragging you in the middle of it, irritated.

“Well, little broken twig, since you obviously have a temper, let me give you a lesson you’ll never forget,” he rips your undies off, anger at your words.

“Does it involve sex…please?” you feel the need to check since it’s crucial for your general well-being.

“Yeah!” J shortly replies, trying to rip your bra but he can’t so he gives up.

“Thank heavens,” you smile, relieved. “Do you need help, baby?” you offer since you don’t want him to change his mind.

“I don’t need help from a helpless twig, I can manage just fine, got it?!” he covers your mouth, staring at you.

“Yes, your Majesty,” you muffle under his fingers. “Auuchhhh,” you whine when the slap is fast to follow.

“You asked for it!” he threatens, pulling you under him.

********************

J got bored so he started drawing and writing on the arm cast: “Batsy is a jerk” ,“I love mister J”( with a heart by it), “I can’t keep my mouth shut”, “I have the best boyfriend ever”, “King of sex,” and he keeps on scribbling. You don’t care; you’re just happy he’s preoccupied with something so you can play on your phone for a little bit.

“Jaaaayyyy,” you kiss his shoulder, avoiding looking at him.

“Hm?” J lifts his non-existent eyebrows, concentrating on his project.

“Baby, could you please go get me some things?”

“If you are sending me on a wild goose chase for tampons or something, the answer is NO!” J growls, adding “No tampons,” to your white cast.

“I’m good on that, I just need more comfortable underwear, bras and stuff from my boutique. Would you go get them for me? Pretty please?” you meow, blowing him a kiss.

He inhales, starting to get grouchy.

“Do I really have to?!”

“Please, I am so miserable with my poor broken limbs,” you play the weakling card. “I want to be comfy, baby, pleeaaseeeeeeeee,” you squeak and he sneers.

“Stop with the voice, it drives me nuts! I’ll go but I need to be rewarded and I am not thinking about a massage. Did I make myself clear, Princess?”

More nodding, more despair.

“Anything you want, I just need my things!”

*********************

“Illusion” boutique is your favorite. It belongs to one of Mister J’s business partners, the perfect cover-up for what they do behind closed doors. J is going there tonight after closing to roam around and get you what you want, taking a few henchmen with him, just in case. Not that he needs to pay or anything since it’s implied all is free for the King of Gotham and his girl.

The Joker texted his men an hour before departure:
“Get ready to leave in 60- Operation Broken Twig.”

What the hell is Operation Broken Twig?! they all think, intrigued. But they know better than not to ask the burning question.

*********************

The Joker keeps on walking around, stopping in front of a panty display.

“Which ones, Doll?” he points his cell towards the hangers so you can see everything on the camera.

“ Ummm…I want hipsters, size medium, about 7 pairs, the ones with flowers, please.”

“Which ones are the hipsters, Pumpkin?!” he gets aggravated seeing so many styles.

“The ones that look kind of low cut,” you explain, wishing he would keep calm for the rest of his shopping spree. “They have the purple flowers.”

“Then why don’t you say so, Doll, hm?!” he snaps, grabbing a bunch of undies and stashing them in his duffel bag.

“Can you also get me some boy- shorts?”

“Which ones are the boy-shorts, Y/N?!” He’s getting mad.

“The kind I am wearing at night for now,” and it displeases him.

“They all look the same to me!!!” he barks and you sigh.

“The ones with pink flowers and all behind are boy-shorts, baby,” you explain and it’s no use, of course.

J stashes some in his bag again. You try the waters, somewhat nervous:

“Can you also take some briefs with you? The ones with green flowers.”

His mouth opens, speechless. He grabs a pair with only two fingers, disgusted:

“Why in the world they used so much fabric on this one?! Looks like a tent! They could make 50 pairs of the G-strings I like on you, Y/N!!”

“Well, they are very cozy and I need them,” you make a comeback but his stubborn ass won’t have any of it.

“There is NO way you’re wearing this style while I’m still breathing!!!” he tosses the garment to the ground, kicking it with his shoe.

For God’s sake! but can’t vociferate your feelings. At least he’s getting most of what you wanted.

“I need some bras, can you grab the matching ones with my underwear please?”

“What size?” he coldly replies.

“34G.”

He looks through them and begins to toss items in the bag. Of course he’s picking the skimpiest he can find.

“Not those, J! I need the comfortable ones, full cup and minimizers!” you plead, alarmed he’s not listening.

“Minimizers?! Why would you want a minimizer for?!” he rants, actually searching for one. “Daddy wants to see those babies!” he confesses, irked.

“Due to my present condition, I must…”

“Holy Batman!” he blurs out when he finds the bra. “No way you’re wearing this huge thing! My woman can’t be seen with this, not while I’m still breathing!” he drops it to the ground, outraged and steps on it.

You want to cry right now.

“Can you at least get me some sports bras?!” you raise your voice, agitated.

“Sports bras?! You can’t even work out for a while, having sex with me is the most you can do. And I don’t want to see a flipping…” he finds the right tag, reads it and calms down. “Oh, this is a sports bra?! Not too bad, this pink will look good on you,” he concludes, stuffing more colors in the duffel bag.

You lean back on your chair, relieved. Thank goodness, Holy Batman and whoever else. 

**********************

“Shit, I gained 3 more pounds,” you scream at the scale, almost tipping over from the revelation of the electronic numbers under your feet.

“Want me to put you out of your misery?” your boyfriend volunteers, aiming his gun at you with one eye closed. “Bang!” he pretends to shoot, but you are aware he contemplates it.

“No, baby, all I need is your services, obviously,” you give him a puppy gaze, jumping on your good leg towards the bed.

“Again?! You already needed my services three times today Kitten!” he scratches his head, placing the gun under the pillow.

You show him his own writing on the cast: “King of sex.”

“You have to help me!!! You really have to! Three more pounds!!!” you swallow the lump in your throat.“It’s imperative you take one for the team!”
“Hmmm, I guess I can…But I am in the mood for crazy stuff and I don’t mean a massage, understand?” he bites your finger when you caress his lips.

More nodding, more despair.

“Yeah, I don’t care, just do it!”

“Happy to oblige then,” he grins, pushing you on the bed and you feel discomfort in your broken ankle and wrist from the impact.

“Hey, be careful!” you whimper, wiggling under him.

“Oh, my, did I break something else?” he fakely sulks, worried…NOT.

“I swear I’m going to leave you when I get better if you don’t…” you mutter, but…

“I’m sorry??!?” he violently takes your t-shirt off, not liking what he hears.

You never learn.

“I planned to be as gentle as possible and I am not the type, but now, I’ll have to punish you again,” and the wide, eerie smirk on his face makes you gulp.

“Does it involve sex…please?”

“Yeah! Duh, I know you have to burn your calories,” he pins your good hand above your head and you sigh, grateful.

Thank goodness, Holy Batman and whoever else.


Also read: MASTERLIST

http://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-master

trappedjesus475  asked:

Companions react to Sole giving them Christmas gifts, even though they have no idea what Christmas is. (Great gifts too, like armor mods and a jetpack attachment for Danse, or a brand new printing press for Piper, etc.) Oh and they don't expect any gifts in return.

In Fallout 4, if you go into Diamond City on December 25th, christmas lights are strung up around the city. That kind of winter holiday has been around for centuries, and would likely still be around for centuries in the future. However, some companions may have a better idea of “Christmas” than others.


Cait: “Well, shite, Sole, you didn’t need to get me anything.” She’s taken aback by the generosity, even a little suspicious. “You’ve got to want somethin’ in return.” But Sole insists, so she shrugs off the gift and pretends it doesn’t matter that much to her. But, later, she finds herself watching and re-watching the kung fu holotapes Sole got her. She even cracks a smile when she pulls off a roundhouse kick, just like they showed in the film.

Codsworth: His voicebox crackles with emotion. “Oh, Mx. Sole…” If a robot’s eyestalks could water, Codsworth would be weeping. It’s a handmade set of matching oven mitts and apron, with a mitt for every claw and an apron that fits perfectly around his torso. It’s a simple gift, but one that makes him overjoyed. He insists on wearing them every time he cooks.

Curie: “Oh, Sole!” She claps her hands to her cheeks in glee. Real lab equipment is rare in the wasteland. Test tubes are often chipped or cracked, medical textbooks are ruined, microscopes are broken… She runs up and clasps Sole in a hug, thanking them profusely for her pristine lab equipment. “It is so beautiful! I will be able to do so much with this!”

Danse: “I…” He’s speechless. To most, it would look like just a few boxes of tech. To Danse, it looks like the pieces to the finest power armor mods in the wasteland. He holds up each piece of metal in awe, running his fingers over it, making a plan in his mind for how to put them together. There’s the faintest glimmer of a tear in his eye. “This is so generous of you,” he says at last, with a shocked, sweet expression on his face.

Deacon: He stares. For once, for a few critical seconds, the liar is rendered speechless. “Wow, Sole,” he murmurs at last, picking up the Pre-War “disguise kit” with a lop-sided smile. It’s full of paints and wigs and costumes. It’s something a make-up artist or entertainer might have used 200 years ago, but now… “I didn’t know you moonlighted as Kris Kringle,” he jokes. He laughs it off, but people don’t often get him things. It touches him deeply.

Dogmeat: He gets a Deathclaw bone to gnaw on. He’s delighted by it, and makes it his business to drag it around and chew on it all day and night, despite it being as big as he is. To show his appreciation, he lavishes Sole with doggy kisses, jumping up on them and nearly bowling them over as he nuzzles them.

Hancock: He waves away Sole’s insistence that he doesn’t have to get them something in return. “Fahrenheit!” he calls. “Have this framed.” He hands over his present - a copy of the Constitution, in all its glory. He’s never actually read all of it before, and it makes him unable to stop grinning for two days. He informs the Goodneighbor residents that they now celebrate Christmas, and proceeds to buy everyone presents. 

Nick Valentine: He lets out an uncharacteristic laugh. It’s a mug, with the words “World’s Best Sad Toaster” handpainted on the side. He smiles every time he looks at it. It turns out that he got Sole something for Christmas, even before he knew they’d get him a present. His gift is an intact snowglobe of Pre-War Boston. “Found it in a tourist trap,” he says, with a faint smile. “Dunno. Guess I hoped you were an old sap like me, and that you’d appreciate it.”

MacCready: His eyes bug out of his head. “This is for me? For me? You gotta be kiddin’ me, Sole.” It’s the finest, shiniest sniper rifle he’d ever seen. Growing up on half-modded, half-broken guns, MacCready always wanted a decent weapon but never had the heart (or caps) to get himself one. Though, after receiving the present, he drives himself half-crazy trying to think of a way to repay Sole, refusing to take it as a charitable gift. He’s still thinking.

Piper: “Blue, you- you-” She shakes her head, a wide grin on her face. “You amazing, wonderful person!” The printing press, all clean and fixed and good as the day it was made, gleams in the front of Publick Occurrences. Piper whips around and pulls Sole into a tight bear hug, squeezing the air from their lungs and thanking them a million times before running over and hugging the press and kissing its surface dreamily.

Preston: “Oh, Sole, you didn’t have to get me anything.” But he can’t help the blushing smile across his cheeks as he takes in Sole’s gift. A refurnished farmhouse, just south of the Castle. Preston might be a militia man, but in his heart he was a farm boy, who wanted land to tend and somewhere to call home. The house itself isn’t much, but it’s the promise of a future that makes him wipe an embarrassed tear from his eye.

Strong: “Is… for me?” He gives Sole a suspicious look. “Won’t get mad if Strong kill?” With Sole’s reassurance, he lunges into battle with an unsettling grin. Strong, being away from his brothers, does not often get the chance to wreak havoc. Sole spent a month collecting various wild animals and putting them together in a big field, then challenging Strong to wrestle/eat them to his heart’s content. The mutant is very pleased.

X6-88: “Mx. Sole, I really do not know what to say.” Coursers are not given presents. It just isn’t done. So when Sole shows up with a restored motorcycle and a brand-new pair of sunglasses, he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do. “Thank you,” he says at last, running one hand over the smooth metal of the bike. “Am I… allowed to use this?”

Treat you better

Summary: The reader finds comfort in unexpected arms when the past returns to the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. He realizes a little too late that he had lost her forever.

Warnings: Smoking (I don’t encourage this, it was just for dramatic effect), cursing, a bit sad. 

A/N: I changed just a bit the request because I wanted to make the reader a badass because she fucking deserved it, okay?? Hope you guys like it, and feedback this shit because I am a sucker for feedback <3


Originally posted by akamatthewmurdock

Originally posted by holybatlogic

“Matt, I don’t care what your current deal with her is—” she pointed at the slim brunette behind the sliding door that lead to the Devil’s bedroom—“but you have to know that I can’t keep this shit going on if you’re not gonna cooperate. A relationship is made by two, not just one.” She shook her head, trying to hold back the tears. “I’m done, Matt. I shouldn’t have believed you…”

“(Y/N), let me explain it—”

“No.” She smacked her lips. “I sure as hell don’t want any explanation of yours. Enough I have with you being the fucking Devil of Hell’s Kitchen; I don’t need to know why Elektra is back. All I need to know is that you’re turning into who you were in college and back then, this hurt like hell… I’m not gonna let it hurt again.”

“(Y/N), please…” Matt pleaded.

“Goodbye Matt, I hope you don’t get killed.” She took a deep breath and turned around for good.

It wasn’t until she was in the safety and privacy of her four walls that she allowed herself to break down. She sat on the hard-wooden floor trying to remember when Matt had started to act different and why she wasn’t able to stop this from happening. It was a cycle repeating, and it had one thing in common: Elektra Natchios.

Several hours later, (Y/N) carried her coffee, a pack of cigarettes, her lighter and a garden chair up to the rooftop of her building. She was not sure if she was allowed there, but she just needed a moment of peace and that was the only place she could think of. After arranging everything into place, she sat down and lit up the first cigar, and as she took the first, deep, drag, she also took a deep breath. She needed it, after all.

Steps behind her made her turn her head a little just to have a glance at who it could have been. She sighed and smiled lightly and took another drag. She took out her cigarettes and offered the just arrived man. He declined, wrinkling his nose and sitting on the cornice of the rooftop, beside her extended legs.

“Rough night, Castle?” She asked, looking at him from the corner of her eyes.

“I dare say less rough than yours, (Y/L/N),” he chuckled, “so… what’s with the tough look?” He nodded in her direction; truth was that with the mug of cold coffee in one hand, the cigarette on the other and the bad-ass sitting, she looked tougher than ever. Frank smiled lightly at the sight as he awaited for an answer.

“I just had a terrible day.” She replied shorty.

“At work?”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes in exhaustion. “At life.” She sighed heavily and sipped the remaining of the cold coffee. “It seems like the past insists in following me around today.”

“Wanna talk about that, pal?”

“You know I had a boyfriend, right?” Frank nodded silently. “Well, Matt and I met back in the day, when we were in Columbia studying and all that crap, and boy he was a good guy. Like a saint kinda guy, but a woman appeared in the way. Her name is Elektra Natchios and… It all went to shit because she not only distracted him from… me,” she took a deep breath, “but she also made him distracted from his studies and everything. Long story short, she’s back in town and today I found them at his place and… she had not changed a thing, and unfortunately Matt has gone back to who he used to be with her.”

“So you hate this Elektra gal?” Frank asked.

“You could think so, yeah, but… truth is I don’t. I just hate what she has done to Matt, and what she does to him. He seems to be under some…” she twisted her lips, trying to think of the right word to describe her thoughts, “some kind of spell. I mean, bitch is gorgeous I swear to god. Like, tall and super skinny. She looks like a freaking model, but again, it’s not her who I’m mad at.”

“Did you find them going at it?” Frank cocked an eyebrow.

“God, no!” She squealed and winced in disgust. “They looked like they were injured, and… well, Elektra was wearing one of Matt’s shirts, that of course, totally suited her, but the shirt she had on was one I gave Matt for his birthday.” (Y/N) bit her bottom lip. Frank had never listened so carefully and he never seemed very interested about her relationship with the lawyer, but that night it all changed and she was taking the opportunity to let it all out. “I mean, he didn’t even have the fucking decency of giving her other shirt. Why did it have to be my shirt? I don’t want it back but—”

Out of a sudden, both (Y/N) and Frank were startled by the Daredevil himself.

“(Y/N) get away from him, he’s dangerous.” The man in the red suit warned, quickly getting to her to try to keep her away from the Punisher. Matt could be very protective and possessive when he felt like (Y/N) was in possible danger, but now it was too late for him to play hero and try to protect her.

“Get your hands off of her, Red.” Frank threatened, dropping his gun on the rooftop. “I am not afraid of beating the shit out of you.”

“Frank, no!” (Y/N) squealed, running towards him and placing her palms on his chest, trying to sooth him. “There’s no need for that…”

Matt was taken aback by the smooth relationship between them, and by Frank’s erratic heartbeat, he knew immediately that his feelings for (Y/N) were as strong as his own. Matt was decided in not letting (Y/N) go, but deep inside, he knew it could be a bit too late for that.

“Why don’t you tell him exactly what you were telling me?” Frank encouraged (Y/N) by nodding at her. He knew how strong she could be and he never doubted her. She just needed a little push.

“(Y/N)?” Matt asked, expecting the worst from her. He deserved it, after all.

“You’re an asshole, Matt.” She started. “You’re a dick. I mean, why? Why pretending all this time? Why the lies? Why did it have to be just like college?” She asked. “I mean, haven’t you learnt your goddamned lesson? Are you that much of an idiot?” She felt her voice increasing its volume and her chest expanding with every air intake. “Seriously, Elektra comes again, and you fall into her trap again!” She was exasperated and thanks to Frank’s little push, she felt empowered and invincible. Things were different now from her college years and she was not afraid of speaking up. The career in law had toughened her up. “And what’s worst, you’re not only lying to me.” She pointed at herself. “Think about Foggy for once in your life, would you? Think about how you’re turning the business you had together into shit. Everything you’ve worked for, you’re really gonna blow it up because of her? And don’t come with that ninja shit you’ve been rambling about, I don’t need and I don’t want that explanation.” She shook her head lightly. “I’m not that heartbroken Matt,” she said after a pause, her voice had softened and her bottom lip had started to tremble, “I’m just… tired and I’m hurt because this is like college all over again and I thought we were all over that.”

“Tell him about the shirt.” Frank coughed.

“Oh yes!” She snapped her fingers, regaining her confidence back. “Because how do you think I felt when I saw Elektra wearing the shirt I gave you for your birthday? I mean, not only she was rocking it, but it was all bloody and shit. Like, couldn’t you have at least a bit of decency and respect for me by giving her another thing to wear? Jesus, Matt, you’re a piece of shit.”

“I know, and—”

“No Matt, you don’t know shit.” She interrupted. “If you knew something, you’d treat me a bit better. You know, I’ve known Frank for a while now and as surprising as it can be, he listened to me rambling about you, because you know what? He treats me well, and he cares about me. And a lot. I don’t recognize you anymore, Matt…” her voice broke, “and what’s worse… I don’t think I ever did. Just… leave, Matt. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“Are you saying Frank Castle is better than me?”

“You heard the lady, man.” Frank stepped closer to Matt, ready for the previously announced fist fight. “Leave.”

“I’m talking to her, not you.” Matt took another step closer to the Punisher. “You don’t know her like I do.”

“Apparently I know her better, because guess who has been picking up her pieces that I’m guessing you left today.” Frank teased.

“You’re doing this because you like her and you wanna get to her. I’m not an idiot, Castle.”

“I strongly disagree.” The alluded shrugged carelessly. “Leave before I make you leave in pieces.”

“(Y/N), answer me.” Matt pleaded one last time. “Is Frank Castle better than me?”

“You could say so, yes.” (Y/N) nodded. “Now leave, for real, I don’t want to see you ever again or hear from you, I just want you out of my life.” The tears pooled in her glimmery eyes and just before she broke down, Frank’s huge arm rested around her back, giving her a sense of safety and support. “You can keep all the things I gave you, or better, give them to Elektra, I’m sure she’ll enjoy them.” She bitterly spat.

“Let’s get you inside.” Frank softly said, placing a hand on the small of her back. “Red, get outta here.” His voice turned from soft into a growl. Matt licked his lips and nervously and had no other choice but leaving. (Y/N) was right, he was a piece of shit and he realized that exact same minute that the one thing that kept him on the normal side was her and that he had lost her forever. She didn’t even see him leave.

Once they were inside, Frank put some water to boil and (Y/N) went to her bedroom to change into something more comfortable. This was the second time she broke up with Matt, and it hurt as much as the first time did. She stayed in her bedroom, crying almost naked for everything that had happened. It hurt her seeing how little he had learnt and how little he cared about what they had. It was incredible how Elektra could change him, just flicking a switch on him.

“(Y/N)?” Frank knocked on her door, startling her and making her dress up quickly. “I made you some tea, I’ll be waiting for you in the living room…”

“Thank you, Frank.” She stammered.

When she got out, she discovered Frank smiling slightly at her and holding the cup in one of his huge hands. She took it gladly, and took a sip from it. She muttered a ‘thank you’ and wrapped one of her arms around his wide torso. She tried to keep herself together, but truth be told, she couldn’t. Fortunately, Frank was there to keep her broken pieces from falling away. His arms were like glue to her breaking heart.

“I know you like me, Frank…” she whispered, “I’m not an idiot.” Frank chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah, not like I’ve been trying to hide it…” He admitted.

“But why listening all my blabbering about Matt?” She looked up to him. “I mean, I was hurting you and you never stopped me, and I’m sorry for not sto—”

“You were not hurting me, (Y/N).” Frank laughed heartedly. “I mean, it wasn’t my favorite topic to discuss, but…” He shrugged. Out of a sudden, he lets go of (Y/N) and goes away to sit on the couch. He tapped on the spot next to him and she took the invitation. “I like you, ok? I like you a lot,” he nodded at her, “but I do have a ridiculously elevated amount of respect for you, so I’m not gonna push’ya into something you don’t want. I might be a nutjob, but I understand the meaning of limits.”

“Frank Castle has feelings, after all.” (Y/N) smiled lightly and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thank you.” She sighed after a long silence. “Just thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Frank lovingly kissed the top of her head and leaned his big head on hers.