the-lost-blood

UnderCover { FINAL}

 What happens when you’re sent on an under cover mission with Steve Rogers? Will something more come of yourpsrtnership, or will it be strictly professional?

Steve roger x reader

Warnings: swearing , fluff, violence, SMUT , NSFW GiFs. 

Masterlist     {UnderCover Series}


Steve rushes to carry you to the bathroom, the sound of the slamming door startles you and brings you back into consciousness. He holds onto you as he turns the shower on and steps both of you, fully clothed in .
You hiss at the feeling of the water washing over your wounds , and he quickly redirects the shower head .

“ how are you even awake right now , you lost so much blood-”

“ it’s not max , it’s the other guy.” You slur, Steve lets out a sigh, moving to strip you out of your dress . Steves eyebrows furrow when he takes in the cuts scattered all over your legs , tracing his finger up an especially long one that seems to wrap almost around your entire thigh.

“ how-”

Keep reading

shakespeare aesthetics

romeo and juliet: suburban july. scraped knees, bruised knuckles, blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in a breeze. burning inside. an ill-fitting party dress, a t-shirt you cut up yourself, the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friend’s house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn-looking basketball hoop at the end of the cul-de-sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip-flops. a eulogy written on looseleaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet: speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half-remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn, mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins, books with cracked spines, books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. a big black t-shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil under your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night: wicker deck furniture. new england summer. big dark sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean, patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. chlorine smell. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love, love for the idea of love, love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar, a crab fisherman with tattoos, a pretty boy with a slackened tie. a light house. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. finger guns. big floppy sun hats. double-speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drunk on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for, hope you weren’t expecting, pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. pool noodles. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth: the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat, the stillness after battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. a sulfur smell. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12:00. a snake that crosses your path, an owl that watches you, a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke. dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now. 

much ado about nothing: the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck, military supply duffel bags in the hall, hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch, a pitcher of iced tea. barbecue. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. indian summer. ill-timed proclamations. stomach-clutching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down and thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen, a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her. a dog-eared rhyming dictionary. camomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you have a home until you’re there. 

king lear: cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lightning, a too-big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red-black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the tips of your teeth. the blown-out windows of skeletal houses. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes, shutting up, holding your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods, wondering if the gods are listening, wondering if the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

a midsummer night’s dream: wet soil/dead leaves smell. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill somebody slipped you. fear that turns to excitement, excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hollow in an old tree. glow-in-the-dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

anonymous asked:

Would a vampire biting someone's neck be safe? Like possible diseases aside, where would be relatively safe places to bite without possibly causing the person to bleed out?

So the problem with vamp mythology is that vampire bites tend to go  for the artery (the neck, for example), which tend to bleed…. well, a lot. The wrist is another common target. 

But really, nicking an artery anywhere is perfectly liable to be lethal. 

I’ve seen this countered in vampire mythos in setups where the vamp’s spittle is a coagulant, and so they drink and then lick the wound to seal the blood vessel. I think this is a fine idea, and a perfectly reasonable adaptation: if a vamp can keep a victim (or thrall) alive, they can drink from the same well repeatedly, though realize that it takes about 42 days for a human to regenerate the blood lost from a donation, so if they are drinking solely from thralls, they’ll need quite a large group (depending on the volume the vamp needs to consume to stay alive).

Other locations vamps could bite but typically don’t: The inside of the thigh (femoral artery), the foot (pedalis dorsis), the back of the knee (popliteal artery), the elbow (brachial artery), the wrist (radial or ulnar artery), the inside of the ankle (medial malleolus). A good bite on the clavicle could even get at the subclavian artery, but the vamp would  have to come from over the shoulder unless they have bottom fangs as well as topfangs. 

If you have a willing partner, I would suggest you try to put your teeth around places where vampires supposedly bite and work out the logistics of things. Human teeth are designed more to rip than they are to actually puncture, meaning that if you or I bit someone the way vampires are supposed to, we would rip the skin off before we punctured the artery. 

Biting things is surprisingly awkward. 

Also realize that humans require pressure from both halves of the bite pattern in order to actually get the leverage to puncture anything. We don’t just produce a single clean hole, but a whole ring of tooth  marks. Even with elongated canines* (fangs), we still need a way to apply that force, which still implies applying force with the jaw. 

I hope this was helpful! Good luck with your mythbuilding!

xoxo, Aunt Scripty

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Got7 as the Mafia + How He Met You

|||Anon asked:  Hi! I really liked your mafia monsta x post and was wondering if you could do something similar for got7 and bts?|||

BTS   Monsta X   Shinee


JB/Im Jaebum

Originally posted by jaesbum

  • Built this whole gang from scratch 
  • Has this strong and scary presence around him but he’s actually an angel doesn’t like doing the dirty work himself and instead relies on his other gang members to clean up the mess
  • Even though he himself and his gang is well known around the city he prefers to stay in the shadows
  • Has a reputation of one of the fiercest mafia leaders 
  • And the rumors are true because no one who got on his bad side, got to live to see another day

Meeting you was a complete coincidence as you happened to work in the warehouses where his gang would make deals. You were always told finish up before 9 o’clock in the evening because you might lose your job otherwise and you always obeyed this rule until that day. It took you longer to sort things out than usual and when you were about to leave it was almost 10. You went out through the front exit and were caught up in the middle of two gangs.

“Who the fuck is she?” one man asked.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see anything, I’m not even supposed to be here, I will never tell anyone, so please-”

“Shut up! You talk to much.” Jaebum ordered. You looked at him frightened.

“It would be better if we just kill her.” the other man spoke again.

“No.” Jaebum said approaching you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “She’s with me.”


Mark Tuan

Originally posted by nochuie

  • He’s not in the gang to do business but rather for the many opportunities to steal, especially cars
  • If he sets his eye on something, there is 110% guarantee that he will get in 24 hours
  • He thinks Jackson is shady and that he’s probably going to try to steal from him so he avoids him like the plague which almost never works
  • Because of people like him, he doesn’t go anywhere (not even to sleep) without his trusted revolver
  • He’s one of the richest among the gang members and likes to show off his precious cars but there will be no hesitation to kill if you as much as touch them

You made the stupid decision of trying to steal from him. You saw his obviously expensive car parked outside one of the clubs and thought that that’s a good catch. However when you drove away with it, expecting to sell it into the black market, Mark himself showed up to buy it from you.

“That’s not very nice.” he said pointing his gun at you. “I really like this one.”

You were surprised the owner of the car found you so fast and just wanted in anticipation to see what will happen.

“But I also find your courage and skills very impressive, not many people dare steal from me, so how about you give me back my car and then I will think what to do with you.”


Jackson Wang

Originally posted by igot17-bangtan-boys

  • No one knows why he’s in the gang and how he got here
  • He just started hanging around and before everyone knew it he was already going on missions and making deals
  • Was very quick to gain everyones trust and respect
  • He doesn’t have a specific job at the gang as he’s pretty much good at anything
  • And he also annoys a lot people so they don’t want to take him with them but he shows up anywhere, anytime at the right moment

He met you when he broke into your house in the middle of the night to interrogate you. He woke you up and put his hand over your mouth to stop you from screaming.

“We need to discuss some things, if you behave I won’t hurt you.”

Pretending to fear for your life you just nodded but if he really thought you were afraid, that was a big mistake on his part. You knew this was going to happen someday sooner or later, so you were ready and as soon as he let go of you, you took the scissors from your night stand and stabbed him in the leg. You took off immediately after that and you have no idea how (with that kind of injury) but he managed to catch up and tackle you outside. He dragged you to the back of your apartment building and slammed you into the wall.

“Naughty girl, what did I just say about behaving? I really don’t want to hurt you but if you don’t tell me everything you know right now, I might have to take you with me.”


Park Jinyoung

Originally posted by jypnior

  • Doesn’t always look like it but will do anything for the gang
  • He’s one of the top and most respected assassins in the industry
  • Prefers to take out his targets silently, that’s why he’s more skilled with hand held weapons like knifes, daggers, axes and so on
  • Most of the time he’s very collected and calm until you make him angry or his emotions take over, then he uses anything he can find as a weapon and not a single person leaves the room alive
  • He has been in the business for so long that he already forgot the number of people he killed

Unfortunately it was your mission to kill him, as you were probably the only person crazy enough to try it. He noticed you even before you approached him but didn’t say anything yet. This situation was very amusing to him as there has been a long time since somebody tried to kill him. You were waiting all night to get the right opportunity when you lost track of him. You were about to go look for him when he appeared next to you.

“Looking for someone?” he asked handing you a drink. “Why do you look so shocked? Did you see a ghost or am I that sexy?”

You were still frozen in your tracks when he got closer and closer to you only to pull your gun from under your dress.

“What were you about to do with this?” he smirked pushing you down on the couch. “I think you should sit down because me and you are about to have a very serious talk.”


Choi Youngjae

Originally posted by huggableyoungjae

  • Specializes in making drug, weapons and other kind of deals
  • Deal making with him is very quick, as he doesn’t like talking with his business partners about anything else but the deal, so that if anything happens it wouldn’t be traced back to him
  • Even though he’s well known in the industry not many people know his real name
  • He’s also the best at smuggling anything in and out of the country
  • If the money is given to him in cash, he counts every single note as he doesn’t trust people that easily

You tried to cheat your way out of the deal by not giving him a couple of grands, thinking he wouldn’t notice but as you turned around to leave he grabbed you by the arm. 

“No so fast sweetie.” he said. “Do you know what this is?” he asked you and you could feel the coldness of the metal press at your waist.

“It’s a gun.”

“Correct! And I would really hate to use it on you.” he stated snatching your bag out of your hand.

“I will take this.” he smiled taking out a bundle of banknotes out of it. “But as you tried to trick me, I  can’t let you go that easily, so I think I will need something more than that.”


BamBam

Originally posted by bamica

  • Any kind of location, a person, any piece of information - he has it
  • Is considered very valuable in this business and many gangs try to bribe him to work for them
  • He has no interest in helping them though and prefers to stick to one group at a time but he’s been in this gang for so long that nowadays he doesn’t even plan on leaving
  • Has many different methods to get the info he needs, the most infamous one of them being torture
  • Needless to say if he gets to use that method, you won’t be experiencing anything again. Ever.

You had no idea how it got to that. Seemingly one minute you were fighting alongside your members and now you were strapped to a chair in an unknown building. Someone pulled you up by the chin.

“I told you to look at me when I’m talking to you.” BamBam said. “Ahh such a pretty face!”

“Don’t touch me!” you told trying to smack his hand from your face.

“I think you don’t understand the situation you’re now in. You see, you don’t have many options. Or rather there is only two: you tell me everything you know and I kill you quickly or I torture the information out of you and kill you anyways.”

“How about neither, you fuck.”

“Ouch! You’re just making it worse for yourself but I admire your courage, how about, just for you, I come up with a third option.”


Kim Yugyeom

Originally posted by thehouseofkpop

  • Was very young when he was thrown into this whole mafia world, still in some sort of training to be a pro
  • But unexpectedly he’s crazy good with guns, his aim is great and his precision is no joke
  • Because of that all the members trust him with their lives and he’s taken on missions more often than anyone else
  • Favourite weapons of choice - long range sniper rifles
  • Often trains other even older than him gang members and can often be seen practicing till dusk

He was surprised to see he missed and only shot you in the leg. As you disappeared behind a building he decided to come finish you off. When he turned the corner you were nowhere to be seen.

“What the heck, she couldn’t have gone that far off, at this point she should have lost a lot of blood.” he wondered when unexpectedly you attacked him from behind. You took your knife out trying to stab him when he rolled you over and now he was the one on top.

“Oh! I see we have a fighter. How were you even able to stand up?” he questioned you. 

“Stop struggling, will you?” he told you pressing his fingers into the open leg wound. You screamed in pain and passed out. He checked your pulse.

“Good. She’s still alive. If we can get her to behave, she will make a strong ally.” he thought picking you up.


A/N: Next up is BTS!! But I still have to finish it 😂 Anyhow, feel free to request more scenarios, reactions etc, I keep up with a lot of groups, both male and female!! 😄

NHL!Bitty, Pt. VIII - Teeth

It’s not the first injury, it won’t be the last, but it is the first time Eric’s sacrificed any teeth to the hockey gods. 

Jack’s already down a few pearly whites; not that you’d know with temporary bridge he had put in after his second year with the Falcs. 

TW: injury, blood, lost teeth

NHL!Bitty Master Post!

_______

“Don’t talk,” Danny warns, barely audible over the furious crowd. “27′s stick fucked up your face real nice.”

That is not what he wants to hear, not even close. Eric shakes off a glove and brings it to his mouth, poking at the aching, bloody place where his mouth guard, and his front teeth used to be. He glides to the bench and shoves Lenny out of the way so their trainer, Mason, can assess the damage. Eric’s vision isn’t blurry and It’s not a concussion he’s worried about.

“..ook ‘ike a ‘ick?” Eric asks around his swollen, clumsy tongue. When Carter snickers ‘yes’, Eric holds up three fingers, their not-so-covert way of avoiding the obscene gesture fine.

Coach leans in to inspect the damage. “Can he play?

“You look like a hockey player, son.” Mason chides. “Tilt your head back.” Eric obeys but keeps his good eye on 27, already sliding into the Avs penalty box. “Doesn’t look like his jaw is broken, just lost a few teeth. He’s fine.”

So much for ‘no surgery in the off-season’, he’s going to need implants like Jack. 

Oh, fuck, Jack

“K’ll the ‘uckers on the p’werpay,” Eric orders around his swollen tongue, “and f’nd my teeff!”

Danny, Eric’s wonderful, sweet, long-suffering rookie, nods emphatically before sending the orders down the bench.

“Your man’s gonna be thrilled, lose any more teeth and you can –” Carter makes a crude gesture with his fist “– wait, does he have fake teeth, too? You guys are going to have so much fun-”

“Gett’n m’re th’n you.” Eric chirps, shaking loose of Mason’s prodding fingers to drop his head and spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor.

“Good, keep spitting, don’t swallow the blood.” Mason chides, applying a butterfly bandage with one hand and aiming a water bottle with the other.  “C’mon, swish and spit. Let me see what we’re working with.”

Carter snickers. “Yeah, Bittle, don’t swallow.”  

This time Eric spits the pink water all over Carter’s skates.

10

In Memoriam Part 1; 
Collaboration with @ofkingsandlionhearts | Part 2: x

2017; in a time of revolution and a land of turmoil, otherwise known as Wales, Merlin, still waiting for Arthur; is living a quiet life spending his days as a librarian and his nights in a small, yet cosy flat close to the lake. Though in recent years he knows the quiet isn’t going to last, there’s a crackling in the air: he can feel the change, an awakening. On one of these nights Merlin makes his usual way home, says goodbye to his colleagues, pops in for a cup of tea and a chat with the lady who works at his favourite cafe, and takes a detour to past the lake to his flat. Turning on the radio that night (he owned a television once, but after accidentally stumbling onto an episode of Camelot that was the end of that) he hears another another tale of disappearances. There seems to be one every day now; completely random it would seem, but he knows better. 

The next day on his way to work Merlin senses that same unease in the air. He feels the air is quite literally being knocked out of his lungs but sees nobody there, he falls to the ground. The next thing he remembers is waking up in an operating theatre. “You’ve been in an accident,” a soothing voice tells him, “You’ve lost a lot of blood.” He doesn’t remember losing blood. He doesn’t remember anything. “Your memories will come back to you slowly. We’ll refer you to a psychiatric,” says another voice he thinks he’s heard before, but it’s gone with another dose of morphine. As it happens, his short term memories, however fragmented, do return to him quite quickly. It’s not until three months later when he’s on his way to work that he notices something quite amiss: a man in full body armour following him. 

“Your memories will come back to you slowly.” A year gone past since the accident and Merlin hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in months. The man is everywhere, infecting every memory he has - chasing him, haunting him, teasing him, even in his dreams. He faintly remembers other things, like waking up to strange conversations on a hospital bed, but they’re gone as quickly and sporadically as they come. His outpatient treatment is going well according to the doctor. She says he’s healthy, and the man is just a figment of his imagination he conjured up to help with the pain. They give him more drugs and sent him on his way. It never occurred to Merlin to seek a second opinion. He goes back to his old routine, says goodbye to his colleagues after work, pops in for a cup of tea and a chat with the lady who works at his favourite cafe, walks home, and turns on the telly.

Distressed

DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN HOMECOMING.

I REPEAT

SPOILERS

“Don’t mess with me. Because I will kill you and everyone you love.”


It all started because he wanted to prove to Mr. Stark that he was good enough to be an Avenger. That he could save the world just like the heroes he wanted to be like. Peter should have stayed at Liz’s party that night with Ned and [Y/N] But, instead he decided to venture off into the night to see what that blast of light came from. And if he had stayed? Then maybe he wouldn’t be in the situation he was in now. 

Her screams were like poison. It was slowly killing him from the inside out. He couldn’t think straight because all could focus on was her pained sobs and terrified shrieks. 

His body was aching, burning even. What he would give to have his suit back with Karen directing him. But, he had to go and be an idiot. He risked lives and all he could do was just wallow in the failure he was. 

On top of Tony taking away the suit, he caused Aunt May to panic, and then the final blow. [Y/N]. She was the reason he got up in the mornings prior to becoming Spider-Man. [Y/N] had been the strength he needed on days he felt like had none. And with him bailing for the millionth time to be a hero that she had no clue about, she walked away from. Leaving him in the wake of destruction. Peter was broken

So why wouldn’t he go after The Vulture. Why would he make himself suffer by watching [Y/N] dance with their friends in that beautiful baby blue dress? Why put himself through more misery in watching the girl who had been there for him through everything act like there was nothing ever there between them? Looking back on it now, it would have been a lot less painful than what was happening at this very moment.  

“What’s the matter, Pete?” Adrian bellowed as he hovered over the boy who was struggling to breathe to get back to fight. “Not going to come save the girl?” 

It took every bit of strength he had to pull himself to his knees. The sand burned his eyes, his body pulsating with painful tremors. Looking up into Adrian’s dark eyes, he muttered out. “Just let her go.” 

Adrian flickered a look over towards the girl who had passed out in the sand and who also regrettably reminded him of his daughter Liz. He had seen the girl once or twice over at the house, she was such a sweetheart, that he could remember. Shaking the guilt of having kidnapped his daughter’s classmate and friend, he yanked the girl from the sand and floated higher into the air. “I warned you, Peter. I warned you stay the hell away from me or else I’d kill everyone you loved.” He dug his talons into [Y/N]’s shoulder, causing her to wake and scream out in pain. “It pays to have a daughter that knows you so well. You see, it only took a few minutes to learn who you’ve got left in this world.” Clenching his talons into [Y/N] some more, he growled. “I’m going to start with your first love and then I’m going to rip apart that aunt of yours all while I make you watch and then have you beg for your life as I drain every last ounce of blood in your body.” 

Panic was an understatement of what he was feeling. His heart was beating loud, blood racing, causing his head to spin. “Please, just let her go.” Tears were brimming his eyes, [Y/N] was never supposed to get caught up in this. He never wanted this to happen. That was the whole point of not telling her about his secret. The whole point he risked the integrity of their relationship. “Please. Don’t hurt her anymore. If you’re going to kill anyone, it’s me. Please. Leave them out of it. They don’t know about me. Please!” 

“Desperation isn’t a good look for you, Pete.” Adrian snickered. He floated a little bit higher, “You know, I’m having a hard of hearing, could you repeat yourself?” 

Peter shouted, “Let her go!” 

Smirking, “Oh? Let her go? If you insist.” 

“NO!” Peter screamed as he pushed himself up off the sand and towards the plummeting body of his girlfriend. He had no leverage, he couldn’t relieve the speed at which she was falling. Bracing himself, he cushioned her fall. Grunting and groaning from the impact, he scrambled up. Ignoring every fiber that was screaming inside of him. 

Flipping [Y/N] over, he examined her. Tears started to fall, she was hurt, badly. Her soft blue dress was stained red, her shoulder was shredded to the point that Peter wasn’t sure if she would be able to move her arm, and blood was just oozing from everywhere. 

“[Y/N], hey, hey, look at me, hey, [Y/N].” Peter was begging for her to make a sound. Instead, she stiffly moved her head with her eyes fluttering. She needed a hospital and there was nothing he could do about it. “[Y/N]” He sobbed, “Look at me, please. Baby, look at me.” 

“Enough with the waterworks, boy.” Adrian yelled as he dropped to the ground and yanked Peter off of [Y/N]. 

“No, stop!” Peter cried out. Crawling back towards [Y/N], he watched as she started to regain consciousness. His heart was thumping louder in his chest as she tried to sit up. He could tell she was in pain and beyond confused. 

[Y/N] whimpered as she used her free hand to put pressure on her wounded shoulder. It felt like she had been hit by a truck.  Looking around her, she shielded her eyes from the smoke billowing from around her. She locked eyes with Peter, “Peter?” 

Swallowing hard, he tried to form words. Because the way things were going, this was probably going to be last time he would ever see her. “[Y/N]….” 

Wincing, she coughed from the smoke filling her lungs. “Where am I?” Her memory of the night was fuzzy. One minute she remembered having somewhat a decent time at the dance and then the next she being kidnapped in the girls bathroom and thrown into a van. 

“Enough chit-chat.” Adrian snarled as he grabbed Peter and yanked him onto his back. “Sorry to do this to you but I’m really not sorry. Looks like I’m gonna have to kill you first.” 

“Peter!”[Y/N] screamed. Her eyes widened as she finally caught sight of his attire. Squinting her eyes against the smoke, she gasped. “Peter?!” What he was wearing was the same exact thing that the Spider-Man wore in the beginning. She’d be an idiot not to notice, she had spent hours studying the videos people caught of him. 

In a way, [Y/N] had become secretly infatuated with him. She kept it to herself because she didn’t want Peter thinking that she was insane. Plus, she wasn’t in love with Spider-Man, she was just intrigued by the idea of him. 

It all started to make sense. She thought it was incredibly weird that Tony Stark would have chosen Peter for the Stark Internship considering he wasn’t even eligible to register for it. And then the last minute cancellations on the nights that their neighborhood Spider-Man would make a grand appearance in stopping bank robberies and breaks ins? How in the hell did she miss that? 

“Oh my god.” [Y/N] whispered. He wasn’t wearing his normal suit which meant the ferry incident resulted in something bad. And if Peter’s Spider-Man then that also meant he bailed on her for the millionth time because he had a job to do. “I’m a fucking idiot.” She breathed as she looked around her for something she could throw. The Vulture’s suit was malfunctioning and even through the smoke and her sand irritated eyes, she knew if she just had something to throw into the exposed wires, she could allow Peter a few seconds to get away. 

Hissing out in pain from her shoulder, she started to crawl on her knees to look through the rubble of broken parts. Whimpering from her pain, she forced herself to keep searching. Looking back,  she started to panic as Peter started to defend himself less. “Come on, come one.” She muttered and then following quickly a yelp from an electrical shock of what she would have guessed that belonged to a panel of some sort. 

Closing her eyes, she mustered up all the strength she had left. Gritting through the painful surges of electricity, she picked it up and let it sail in the air and right into the open wings. Just as she had hoped, it created a minor short circuit. “Peter, run!” She screamed as she picked herself up and started to run towards the towering flames on the sand. 

Coughing, she shielded her eyes as she ventured further into the fire. Weaving in and out of burning debris, she gasped for air. [Y/N] could feel her lungs filling with smoke and for a minute, she wasn’t sure what hurt worse. Her shoulder or the fact that she couldn’t breathe. 

[Y/N] yelped out when an explosion behind her went off, turning her head, she only hoped that Peter took her distraction and ran.  All she needed was to make a few more steps and she’d reach the pier full of people that would no doubt help her. Just a few more feet, [Y/N] thought as she trudged through the thick sand. Her vision started to blur as her head got fuzzy. I must have lost a lot of blood. [Y/N] fell to her knees, whimpering because she was so close to help, she could taste it. 

“[Y/N]!” Peter yelled as he watched her fall. Forcing himself through all the torturous pain, he ran up to her. Kneeling down, he gently scooped her up in his arms. Tears rushed to his eyes as her eyes fluttered open, “[Y/N], stay with me, please. I’m getting help.” 

“Peter?” She asked, she was beginning to feel loopy. Coughing, she gripped his arm, “What are you doing here?” 

Biting his lip, he pressed a kiss to her head. “I’m getting help, baby. I’m getting help.” Standing up, he trudged the rest of the way up. 

Give me violent, painful, monstrous transformations. And when they change back, let it be just as gruesome and heartbreaking as the initial change. I want them shivering on the floor, muscles smasming as their body puts itself back together, fever making their bruised skin flush an ugly red as they sweat and it’s so hot maybe they’re steaming. I want them barely-conscious, exhausted to the bone, desperate for something to drink, and feeling so, so hungry. In the aftermath of the more extreme transformations, they’ve burned up so much body fat and maybe even muscle mass that they’re nearly skeletal. Give them someone to take care of them, to murmur soothingly as they’re cleaned up and tucked into bed, someone who holds them up while they sip at some broth and water, or who holds their hands while IVs are inserted, to replenish lost blood and fluids. They need someone to talk them through the horror of the transformation, to reassure them that they’re still loved and wanted.
Give me gross transformations and tender, gentle, heartbreakinkingly sweet aftercare.

Pushing All my Buttons

Prompt/Summary: You and Steve know all the right and wrong buttons to push

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: OMG, the cursing.  There is a lot.  So much. 

Word Count: 3668

Author’s Note: Is there a better trope than enemies to lovers?  I dare you to name it.  I wish I were better at writing sex scenes.  Maybe I need to bribe someone to write the second (smuttier) chapter to this. 


Originally posted by ohevansmycaptain

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you say / sometimes you get so far into your own head that i worry you’re never going to come back / and i try to explain that the memories have strong teeth / & they drag you down by the ankles / it’s like finding wonderland / and then realizing every character is a person from your past you wanted to forget / maybe we all bleed red like the hero of the story / but they’re out here splitting throats just for fun / i keep my head down / respond to the wrong name / make myself the blush of a new moon / this is a tattered fairy tale / and i’m breaking up my crown / swallowing the jewels to keep myself rooted / the trees stay silent / they’ve seen this story play out a hundred times over / but the birds all have a lot to say / starry word riddles / keep your eyes closed to the river / stare too long and you’ll see the blood lost / bodies returned to the sea / wind as a banshee that never stops screaming / sometimes i get so far into my own head / and i lose my way out / beheaded and blood lust / birds laughing in the distance / water lapping up to take what’s left of me
—  MANIC WONDERLAND, angelea l.
Byun Baekhyun//Psych - Part 6

Originally posted by progamerbyun

Summary: After a month of being broke at college, you finally find a place to stay, but the only con is that there is nine other people you have to share a house with - one in particular who makes it his mission to irritate you at every turn - but they’re hiding something from you. Something big. (1/ 2/ 3/ 45/ 6/ 7)
Scenario: Werewolf!AU, college!AU, series
Word Count: 5,398

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Sorry, for making you guys wait for so long, but to make it up to you I think this is the longest imagine I have ever written. I hope you’ll enjoy. I also combined two reqests for this one. I hope that’s okay.

Request: Could you write an imagine about Ivar getting wounded in battle and the reader takes care of him? Thank you.

Request: Are you taking requests at all? If so could you do one where the reader takes control in bed and Ivar has to sit back and take it?

Warning: This contains smut and blood, the essentials of the Ivar fandom.

—————————————————————————————————-

You pulled your sword back and the soldier in front of you dropped to the ground. You turned, looking for your next opponent but no one was there. It took you a moment to realize that there was no one left. The battle was over. The last few survivors of the once large hostile army were fleeing to save their lives. All around you the warriors started to cheer in triumph, you would have joined in but for some reason you didn’t feel joyful at all. You were still panting but the rush of the battle slowly died down. And as the adrenalin left you, the strange feeling that something was wrong only grew bigger. You tried to tell yourself that you were only worried because Ivar wasn’t beside you like usually. He always stayed close to you in battle and you were used to fight side by side with him, often even riding in his chariot with him. But today you had somehow been separated. In the immediate rush of battle you hadn’t thought much about it but now that you were calming down you felt worry sneaking into your heart. You looked around, hoping to spot Ivar somewhere.

You could see Hvitserk with a small group of warriors not far from you. They were still cheering and slapping each other’s shoulders. Ivar was nowhere to be seen, so you went over to his brother.

“Y/N.” He greeted, a wide smile on his face. “Good to see you in one piece.”

You nodded. ”You too. Have you seen Ivar?”

“Not since before the battle. Was he not with you?”

“He was, but we got separated.”

Hvitserk must have noticed your worried tone. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m sure he is okay. It takes more than a few Saxons to kill him.”

You gave him a half-hearted smile. “You’re probably right. See you later at the camp.”

With that you turned to look for Ivar again. You climbed up a small hill so that you could overlook the other side of the battlefield that was lying behind it. When you made it to the top you gasped in shock. You could see Ivar’s chariot, the white horse was covered in blood and had started to graze between the fallen warriors but Ivar was nowhere to be seen. You felt your stomach twist with fear. As you hurried towards the empty chariot you heard someone call your name. You turned to see Ubbe running up to you. By the look on his face you could tell that something was wrong.

“Where is Ivar?” You asked him, your voice sounding strange and high pitched.

“He was wounded. We already brought him back to the camp.”

Panic shot through you and you felt your legs start to tremble. “I have to see him.” You said, your voice shaking. Although you weren’t sure you could trust your legs to support you, you started to stride towards camp. As you walked past Ubbe he caught you in his arms.

“Y/N, wait. Calm down. It is not that bad. I’m sure he will be fine.”

“I have to see him.” You repeated stubbornly and tried to wind yourself out of his arms.

Ubbe looked at you with pitying eyes for a moment, but then let go of you. “Alright, I will come with you.”

You stormed into the tent where the wounded were treated and searched the rows of bleeding warriors. When your eyes fell upon Ivar you felt like your heart stopped for a moment. He was lying on his back with his eyes closed. As you got closer you could see that a long cut had gone through his armor. Blood was oozing out of it and running down his side. Cold fear began to rise inside you, but with it came a stubborn determination. You would not lose him.

“Why is no one tending to him?” Your voice was fierce and demanding.

At the sound of your voice Ivar opened his eyes. He looked tired and was a little pale but he smiled at you. You ran to his side and dropped to your knees, clutching to him as if your life depended on it.

He chuckled. “Are you trying to squeeze all the blood out of me, woman?”

You softened your grip around him. “I was so worried. When Ubbe said you had been wounded…”

“Shhh. There’s no need to worry. It’s nothing.”

Seeing all the blood that covered his chest and ran down his side, you weren’t fully convinced by his words.

Ivar’s eyes had followed your gaze. “I said there’s no need to worry. Most of that blood isn’t mine anyways.”

You ignored him and rose to your feet to stop one of the women that were hurrying along the rows of the wounded. Most of the women that did not fight in the shieldwall were assigned to take care of those who were wounded in battle.

“Why is no one tending to him?” You repeated your question from earlier.

“Because his wound isn’t that deep. We have much more serious cases to deal with first, so even a prince will have to wait.” With that she shoved you out of the way and scurried off.

You thought about calling her back when heard Ivar chuckle.

“I told you it is nothing. Do you believe me now?”

“No.” You said stubbornly and turned to Ubbe who was still standing close to the entrance, trying his best not to be in the way. “Can you help me bring him to our tent?”

“Why do want to bring him there?”

“I will take care of his wounds myself. Now come help me.”

You could see a pleased smirk grow on Ivar’s face, he seemed to like the thought of you tending to him instead of some old woman.

It was quite a struggle to get Ivar into your tent with him wounded and only Ubbe to help you, but you finally managed to lay him down on your bed.

You gave Ubbe a thankful smile.

“Do you need any more help?”

“No, thank you.” You said and he left the tent.

You turned back to Ivar and carefully opened the strings that held his armor together. Then you helped him to sit up to get it off him. As the hard leather scraped over his wound, his face twisted with pain but he didn’t make a sound. You took out your knife and simply cut open his tunic in order to spare him from having to move even more. You loudly sucked in a breath at what you saw. The cut went from his left shoulder almost to the middle of his chest. You examined it closely and were relieved to find that the woman had been right, it wasn’t too deep. What worried you was that it hadn’t stopped bleeding yet. It would clearly need stitches.

You rummaged through your things to find what you needed. Ivar hadn’t said a word since you had brought him here. He just kept watching you, seeming quite relaxed, a small smile on his face, almost as if he was enjoying himself.

“Why are you smiling?” You asked him as you stepped back to the bed.

“I just like to be the center of all your attention.”

“You won’t like it as much anymore once I stick that needle into you.”

He just shrugged and followed your movements with his eyes as started to carefully clean the wound. You were quite consumed with your work when you felt Ivar’s hand slide under your shirt. First you tried to ignore it and kept working but that got more and more difficult as his hand slowly slid up your belly and his fingertips ghosted across your breasts. You ignored the warm feeling that spread through you and fiercely grabbed his arm and pulled it out from under your shirt.

“Ivar, this is really not the right time. Please let me patch you up first.”

He grinned at you, full of mischief but placed his hand back on the bed, while you fumbled with the needle.

“Does it hurt much?” You asked him as you had made the first few stitches.

He shrugged. “I’m used to pain.”

You nodded, unable to stop your eyes from wandering to his legs. If Ivar had noticed, he ignored it. You forced yourself to concentrate on your work.

As you were almost finished you could feel his hand on your hip again, fingers caressing your stomach. He hooked two fingers into the waistband of your pants and let them slide along it until he found the lacing.

“Ivar, this is really not the time, you should rest.” You said as he started to fumble to unlace your pants.

He gave you a dark grin. “You asked me to let you patch me up first. That I did. Now it is my turn.”

“You have lost a lot of blood. You should rest.”

“I can’t. You look to irresistible like this.” He whispered and slid his hand into your pants. First you didn’t know what he meant but then realized that you were still as much covered in blood as he was.

You opened your mouth to protest and tell him that he really needed to rest, but that moment his fingers slid over your folds and the words caught in your throat. Ivar noticed your reaction and smirked, knowing that he had already won that battle. His hand cupped your sex and one his fingers sneaked between your folds stroking up and down. You moaned and couldn’t stop your body from moving against his hand. His skilled fingers found your sweet little knob and he started to circle his thumb around it. You moaned out his name at the exquisite feeling. As he felt your wetness spreading under his fingers, Ivar let out a pleased little groan. Your whole body was trembling as you pressed yourself against his hand. Much too soon for your liking Ivar retrieved his had from your pants. Since he couldn’t use his left arm terribly much he to break contact to slide his right arm around your waist and pull you into the bed. As soon as he had you pressed to his chest, his lips crashed onto yours. Without breaking the kiss his hand sneaked back into your pants. He drew a few more circles around your clit before he pushed one finger inside of you. Your head fell backwards as you let out a pleasured sigh. He started to move in and out of you, his pace slowly increasing. You moaned out loudly and rocked our hips to meet his movements, already feeling the heat building up inside of you. But all of a sudden he stopped. With his head he gestured towards you shirt.

“Take that off.”

You did as he had said and he sighed as your breasts fell free from the fabric. He started to move his hand again and at the same time his mouth found one of your breasts. He was taking turns in sucking at your nipple and letting his tongue swirl around it. Soon he added another finger and thrusted them inside you more forcefully than before. Your moans got louder and louder and you could feel the heat spread from between your legs through your whole body. He let go of your breast and looked at you, a devilish grin on his face. Then he curled his fingers upward while keeping up his pace. Stars exploded in front of your eyes. He was hitting exactly the right spot. You knew you couldn’t take it much longer.

“Ivar.” You panted between your moans. “I… I’m about to…”

“That’s right.” He cooed. “Come for me, Y/N!”

Hearing his words you let go and let yourself become consumed by the pleasure he was giving you. He kept moving his hand until you were coming down form your high. As the trembling of your body subsided he pulled you on top of him. You rested your head on his chest, careful not to bring any pressure on the fresh stitches. You lay like this for a while and he stroked your hair. As you shifted your body to get more comfortable, you felt his erection press against you. You looked up to him almost in surprise.

“After you have lost so much blood?”

He shrugged and gave you a crooked grin. “It’s what you do to me.”

You smirked back at him and moved to open his pants and pull them off his legs. You gave the top of his cock a teasing lick and then moved back up to kiss him again. Very slowly you worked your way back down, trailing kisses along his jaw, his neck and down his chest. Ivar followed each of your movements, looking at you in awe. When you were back down you gave his cock a long lick from base to top and Ivar let out a long sigh. You gave him one last playful smile before you took his member into your mouth and softly started sucking while stroking its base with your hand. Ivar let out low growling noises and tangled his hand into your hair.

You were surprised as he tugged your head upwards after a while.

“Enough.” He said, his voice was thick with lust but it still had a commanding tone. “I need to be inside you.”

You bit your lip and moved back up to straddle him. You positioned yourself over his tip and moved your hips so that your folds were brushing over him making just the tiniest bit of contact.

Ivar narrowed his eyes at you. “Stop the teasing, woman. You know I’m not a patient man.”

He put his hands on your hips, as if he was ready to pull you down on him at any second.

You shook your head at him and pressed his arms back to the bed. “You still have to go easy. You lost a lot of blood today, so relax and let me do the work.”

He gave you frustrated growl and you chuckled. “I think have already suffered enough today.” You decided and slowly began to let yourself sick down on him.

You closed your eyes and relished the feeling of his thickness stretching you out. As your hips met his he filled you completely and you took a moment to adjust before you slowly started to move. You rocked your hips against his and moaned at the feeling of him sliding in and out of you. Ivar’s hands moved up your sides to play with your breasts, while he watched you bounce up and down on top of him. As you started pick up more pace he seemed unable to control himself any longer. His hands closed around your waist and he pushed you to the side in order to get on top of you. You clicked your tongue disapprovingly and shook our head, while you fought to push him back down on his back.

“I said I will do the work, otherwise I will leave and let you rest like you should.”

You knew it was an empty threat, for you wanted this as much as he did, but it seemed to work. He gave you an annoyed growl, but relaxed and looked up to you expectantly. You smiled and nodded, almost in disbelief that he had obeyed you. You placed your hands on his broad chest and started to rock your hips again. Ivar’s hands moved to your hips again but he left you in control. You kept moving your hips against his and leaned down to kiss him. But before your lips touched his he slightly turned his head and licked over your cheek. Then he kissed you deeply and you could taste the blood he had licked off your skin.

“You taste like the goddess of war.” He breathed against your lips.

As you sat back up to pick up a little more pace, Ivar dipped his fingers into the small drops of blood that were still dripping out between the stitches you had made on his chest and drew a line from your throat over one breast down to your navel. Then he repeated his actions on the other side. When he was done he looked at you, seemingly pleased with his work before his hands went to your hips again, steadying your movements. You moved faster and faster while moaning out his name. The heated knot in your stomach was growing fast. Ivar’s grip on your hips became tighter and he roughly thrusted upwards to meet your movements. You could feel yourself tighten around him as you fell over the edge. You whole body spasmed for the second time that night, while Ivar’s strong arms held you in place as he kept pounding into you. You were still riding out your orgasm as he gave one last forceful thrust and then pulled you down on him, burying himself deep inside you while he spilled his seed.

Totally out of breath you collapsed on top him. You lay like this for a while, both of you panting heavily.

Now I feel like resting.” Ivar rasped as he wrapped his arms around you.

Captain's Vigilante (1/?)

Word Count: 3700ish

Warnings: amateur author, first attempt at fan fiction, really really wordy

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: You are a genius vigilante, misunderstood, feared and on top of the Avengers watch list. They see you as a major to threat and has to be stopped. They’ve no idea you only have the best of intention but just has no idea how to express it a better way. And you like the reputation they gave you. It’s what you’re used to. After yet another visit to the Avengers tower and being caught and then being shot. Things take a turn for you both when Steve seemed to break those walls and get to know the real you.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

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