wish my brain would shut up

You’re my Apple Pie

Title: You’re my Apple Pie

 Prompt: Had a request for some Male!Reader stories! ^^

 Pairing: Dean x Male!Reader

 Summary:  You have always loved Dean Winchester, but he never looked at you, at least you thought. Little did you know, when Dean pictured the apple pie life, it was you he was picturing it with.  

 Warnings: Angst.  Mild Language.  Fluff.

Originally posted by dean-sam-winchesterbros

You sat back in your chair and propped your feet up on the one next to you.  “Glad we didn’t have a hunt.”  You spoke softly.  “It’s nice to just relax.”  You reached your arms up in a big stretch, your shoulder popping a couple times before you settled back down.

“Dude, you need to get that checked.”  Dean spoke as he nursed his whiskey.  

“Don’t mother me, Dean.”  You said with a chuckle.  Although you always brushed off his worry, you secretly loved it.  You loved it when Dean worried about you.

“Not motherin’.”

“Sure you aren’t.” You watched him for a moment.  His green eyes were trained on his drink, his finger moving around the rim slowly.  You watched him for a few moments before speaking up.  “What’s bothering you?”

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baekhyun-for-breakfast  asked:

#1 and mark for the drabble game~ ♥

Mark + #1: “Would you come to my funeral?

“This is the worst game in the world, my brain hurts.” You whined from the couch, glaring at the computer screen.
“What is it now?” Mark snickered from his spot, spread out on the floor and scrolling through his phone, looking at god knows what. “Did you have to pick between eggs and bacon or waffles again?”
“Shut up, every decision counts you jerk.” You scowled, wishing there was something near to chuck at him. “It was a hard choice!”
“Sure sure, whatever you say.” Mark shrugged. “So what is it this time?”
“Sacrifice the whole flip dickin town or just the chick that’s totally my girlfriend.” You huffed. “Bae or friend zoned boy and everyone else…..oh god what if there’s dog’s here! How can I kill a dog! I don’t even know how many people I’ll kill! All the animals! But I did kiss bae….”
“Dude, you know it’s a game right?” Mark asked. “You know you can play it again, right?”
“Shh what’s the fun in that? I have to make my choices and live with them!”
“Ironic coming from a game you rewind time every time you screw up, but whatever.” Mark muttered under his breath, but you hear him and tossed another glare his way.
“Screw it, I can kill dogs. We had some good times, pool hopping and dancing in our undies, you getting shot…many times…but the dogs man I gotta think about the dogs.”
Hesitantly, you chose to sacrifice Bae, and sat back to watch the scene unfold. Nearly crying over it, you watched as the game showed you the town was fine, and now Bae’s funeral. 
“Hey Marky Mark? Completely random, but if someday I die, would you come to my funeral?”
If you died?” Mark scoffed. “Nice set up there, babe. If it’s cool, I’m not coming to your sad and crying funeral, there better be music and good food, I’m talking buffet style.”
“Fine, lemme just write that in my will then, ‘must have buffet or my own boyfriend won’t come’.” You rolled your eyes at him. “You suck.”
“Yeah, but at least your funeral won’t.” Mark snickered. 
“I hate you.” 

[NCT Drabble Game]

bc i’ve never written a fic before efae i don’t really know what to expect and i think(?) it’s doing really well but my stupid brain just sees the number of comments, kudos and hits and is like “yeah everyone hates it” and i really wish it would shut up lol

Upcoming Jori Story.

Emma: In case anyone is interested, I’m in the process of writing a new, fresh Jori fanfiction that’s going to be loosely based off of Jadeandtorimakeablog. It’s been in the works for awhile now, so please comment/like below and let me know what you think of this small excerpt. I’m still not entirely sure if I want to publish it yet. I might be too late…

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anonymous asked:

katsudeku 5 if you are still taking requests!

There’s a knock, a rattle and then the sound of a teenage-sized body colliding with the ground of Izuku’s floor. The freckled boy’s sitting upright in his bed in an instant, blinking into the dark of the night as his eyes try to adjust. There are still remnants of sleep fogging his brain, blurry pictures of a dream slowly fading to nothing, as his mind begins to clear.

He stares at the complaining pile beneath the window, sand-colored strands of hair gently bobbing in the nightly breeze, which crawls in through his opened window.

“Kacchan,” Izuku begins, more surprised at himself for being not surprised with the boy climbing through his window in the middle of the night, “are you okay?”

“Shut up! Stupid, Deku, don’t be so concerned. I’m not some china doll, fucking idiot,” Katsuki grumbles, as he pushes himself onto his feet. “Why the hell do you leave your window unlocked at night? Some psycho could crawl through. You want to fucking die, assclown? You’re having a goddamn death wish? Unbelievable. Shit-chomping moron piece of trash.”

Izuku stares at him, the wheels in his brain slowly clicking into place. “Kacchan, this is the fifth floor. Who would climb through my window?”

“I don’t know!” Katsuki hollers, hissing at himself when he realizes the volume of his voice. “Just lock your dumbass window next time, okay, nerd?”

“Alright,” the freckled boy mumbles, slowly crawling out of his bed. “Uh, Kacchan –“

“I kinda ran away from home,” the blonde begins, having read Izuku’s puzzled expression. “So… let me stay over tonight, dweebface.”

“Ah, I see,” the other boy says. Nervously, he gnaws on his bottom lip. “Do you maybe want to talk about it?”

Katsuki snorts, offering him a snide smirk. “Hell no, I don’t. Just, I don’t know, let me stay for a while. I can sleep on the floor, or whatever.”

But Izuku is his mother’s son, and treating your guest with respect is one of the first things she taught him.

“No way! You’ll sleep in my bed. I can carry my stuff over to the couch and –“

“I’m not gonna kick you out of your own goddamn bed, shitmunch. What are you, stupid? Fine, I’ll sleep in your uglyass bed. But you won’t sleep on the couch! Just don’t kick me in your sleep, nerd.”

It’s suddenly many degrees warmer in the room, as Izuku watches his childhood friend kick off his shoes and climb into his bed. As Katsuki slips under the covers, he catches the other boy’s baffled expression.

“Oh, come on, fuckhead. Not like we never did this as kids. Get over your goddamn self.”

“S-sure,” Izuku mumbles, heart falling into an excited gallop, “no problem at all. Just like when we were kids, only that we’re bigger now, and older. Yeah, sure, I’m fine.”

This night held two surprises for Midoriya Izuku: one, there’s apparently nothing Katsuki could ever surprise him with, even with himself climbing through his window in the middle of the night. And two, the blonde’s surprisingly good at cuddling.

send me a pairing + a number

sometimes I just wish my brain would just shut the fuck up because for once in my life I’m truly and purely happy, why the hell am I ruining it for myself with these negative thoughts? why over analyze, why question. why the fuck won’t they go away

The Lunatic- Chapter 4

Masterpost

IMPORTANT: I just posted a chapter a couple of hours ago (so go read that if you haven’t already please), but I guess I was in a writing mood and did another. Enjoy. Have a lovely day/night.


I was quick to find out that the days in here went on forever. With nothing to do but stare at a wall boredom was quickly eating me alive. I had hoped that I’d be able to talk to Vic again just so I had some company and wouldn’t be so afraid all the time. If I were back home then I would have gone to church today, then maybe hung out with my friends in the afternoon before going home and having a nice family meal. I felt incredibly homesick. I wondered what they were doing. I never left the house without telling my parents so they’d surely be worried sick. I knew they’d be looking for me and have the police involved. I just hope they knew the right place to look.

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Hansom Cabs and spooky alley’s - Sherlock’s New Years Special

Article from tomorrow’s The Times:

Benedict Cumberbatch tells Damian Whitworth why he’s happy that Sherlock Holmes is returning to Victoriana

There have been suggestions that Benedict Cumberbatch has of late lost all his mirth. First, after one of his nightly post-Hamlet appeals to help Syrian refugees, he called on the audience to “f*** the politicians”. Then he enhanced the impression that he was taking himself a touch too seriously by calling for a meeting with the home secretary about the refugee crisis.

And now, as we discuss the Sherlock Christmas special, The Abominable Bride, he objects to the use of “bromance” to describe the relationship between his Holmes and Martin Freeman’s Dr John Watson.

We are sitting in a shabby room, heated by a small electric fire, in the Bottle Yard Studios, a former factory in Bristol where the set has been built for The Abominable Bride. For the one-off special the creators have abandoned the modern-day setting in which Cumberbatch made his name as Sherlock and taken the world’s most famous detective back to the Victorian era in which Sir Arthur Conan Doyle introduced him.

Cumberbatch is on a break from filming and arrives in Victorian waistcoat and starched collar, his hair slicked back. “What a handsome man,” mutters another (male) journalist as he enters the room. While Freeman — who had been in a few minutes earlier, huddled in an enormous parka — was so low-key that you’d walk past him in the street, Cumberbatch glows like a full moon on a cloudless night.

Of course, we all want to know if Sherlock and John are still the same back in the 19th century. “Is there still the bromance?” I ask.

“You just really want to write the word bromance,” says Cumberbatch to a little peal of sycophantic laughter from some of the journalists gathered around him. The word bromance may be overused in connection with Sherlock, but the nuances of the relationship are a subject of endless fascination to Sherlockologists. I try to keep it light: “There can’t be an article without it in there,” I joke. “There can,” says Cumberbatch. “You can be the first. Strive for change in the press.”

This is starting to feel like it could be hard work, but fortunately Cumberbatch warms up. The essence of the modern-day Sherlock has been maintained in this new departure, he says, so we can expect a rollicking pace, crackling wit and the sparky Holmes-Watson relationship. “It’s a companionship that has evolved in our version, so we are not regressing to ‘Wow!’ or ‘Golly, Holmes!’ or some sort of Nigel Bruce-esque kind of adoration. [It is] more complex than that, which is great.”

This Victorian version will not be a pastiche. “We don’t want to make it into a sketch. We don’t want to make it into something ridiculous or comic,” Cumberbatch says. “We want to be true to the original; at the same time we want to be true to our version. So it’s a very delicate balancing act.”

How did he react when the show’s creators, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, told him that Holmes was going home to 1895? “I was thrilled. I went, ‘At last I can have a f***in’ ’aircut. [Instead of] that ridiculous bouncy lot of curls on my head.’ And then I went, ‘You are mad. What?’ I genuinely didn’t understand how they were going to get away with it. And then the more detailed pitch came and I went, ‘OK, this is going to be great fun.’ And it really is. It is so nice to play him in his era. Some of the weight is taken off you and [you are]not trying to establish this man in the 21st century. When he is in full Victorian swing it’s a really lovely feeling.”

Playing Holmes in the modern era can sometimes feel like heavy lifting, says Cumberbatch. He is “a man clearly slightly out of his time. To put him back in the era that he’s written in is a joy. It feels easier to a degree. Things that I try to impose a little bit on the modern version, like his physicality, stature, a lot of that is done by the body of the clothing and collars, the deerstalker and cape and all those sort of things. That’s an absolute delight and yet it doesn’t feel like cliché because you are functioning in them rather than quoting them.”

Victorian Sherlock smokes two types of pipe and instead of the Belstaff coat worn by the modern incarnation, he has an inverness cape that echoes the coat, and is worn with matching deerstalker. No doubt they’ll be producing cheap knock-offs in China within hours of transmission.

Gatiss gave Cumberbatch the Belstaff coat after recording the first series and he wore it for a bit before the show was aired. He was not famous then and there was no reason to be concerned about having his picture taken in it. But he worried. “What if someone did accidentally [take a picture] and then says, ‘Seen walking around Hampstead Heath in his f***ing costume.’ Seal my reputation as being a dick.”

Gatiss describes this Victorian Sherlock as “The Adventure of Having Your Cake and Eating It. It is still our show. It is essentially Sherlock as if we have always done it, period. So it hasn’t suddenly become very dusty and slow.”

The 90-minute special is about having fun, chips in Moffat. “Fun for us and fun for the audience. Benedict and Martin are the Holmes and Watson of their age. They own those roles. Wouldn’t it be awful if you never saw them do it properly? Wouldn’t you like to see them in the deerstalker and bowler hat?”

Freeman says he doesn’t feel as though he is playing a completely different character, although “it does tighten you up slightly physically and vocally, I think, so there is slightly less overly casual modern speak”. Once Watson is back in the Victorian era he is a little more in awe of Holmes than in the modern version. “The original Watson was much more outwardly generous in his thinking that his friend is a genius. Modern Watson definitely thinks his friend is a genius but also an enormous pain in the arse.”

The Victorian Watson comes with a magnificent Victorian moustache. Freeman also had a ’tache in series 3 of the modern Sherlock. “I’ve got to try and rein that in, not let Steven and Mark think this is an ongoing thing now and end up as Robinson Crusoe.”

The Abominable Bride is based on a passing reference to a case made in Conan Doyle’s story The Adventure of the Musgrave Ritual. The producers tell us that the story begins with a man seeing his wife in her wedding dress shortly after she killed herself and the trailers suggest a gothic adventure with clattering hansom cabs and spooky locations. No preview tapes have been made available.

On set, the actors and production team give little away, although we are allowed to venture into Holmes’s bachelor flat, which is set up exactly like his slightly squalid pad from the first three Sherlock series but filled with Victorian furniture and paraphernalia. A table is jumbled with scientific experiments, a skull, microscope and typewriter. The bison skull on the wall is still there, but instead of headphones it has an ear trumpet.

Una Stubbs will be there as Holmes’s landlady, Mrs Hudson. The Victorian Mrs H is a little rattier than the modern one, says Stubbs, who adds that Sherlock is the biggest success that she has been involved in during her long career. “I have been lucky to be in some series that have been a success — nothing like this. I am stopped in the street by groups of Russians, Chinese. It is quite extraordinary.” She recalls walking along the street the day after the first Sherlock aired. “I could hear, ‘How do you say it? Benedict Cumber . . ?’ I thought, ‘Oh my God, it’s a success.’ ”

In the subsequent five years, Stubbs has watched Cumberbatch being catapulted to global stardom. “Can you believe how it’s changed? Really incredible. From being this young actor and suddenly this superstar. But it sits well on his shoulders.”

After three Hobbit films Freeman is a similarly big name worldwide. “I was dreading in a way that they would change but they haven’t,” says Stubbs. “You just don’t know if they’d be big-headed because it is a phenomenon, how they have both been drawn up and given all these wonderful opportunities. Well, they’ve earned them,” she adds quickly.

For Freeman, Sherlock is an opportunity to work with his partner, Amanda Abbington, who plays Mrs Watson. These days he is away from Abbington and their two children a lot. “There is no way round it. Well there is — I could stop acting. It would mean not taking interesting opportunities. And even though it’s second in importance to my family, it’s a close second because I was doing it before I met Amanda and before I became a dad. I am very, very passionate about my job but I have to really want to do something to go away.” Work and family life mean that he and Cumberbatch tend to see each other only on Sherlock shoots. “We don’t hang out an awful lot.”

Most of the time he is grateful for the constant flow of work. “I am thinking mainly ‘Thank God’ but with moments of ‘I wish it would ease up.’ You want to have your cake and eat it in life. We are reasonably selfish creatures, I guess. I try not to look at the diary, that way I end up in trouble. Amanda says, ‘Please look at your schedule.’ I say, ‘Yes,’ but it’s boring. I just go where I’m pointed. I can’t think of things too far into the future, my brain does tend to shut down.”

Freeman’s future, he says, will continue to include Sherlock. A new series of three dramas will be filmed next year and is expected to be broadcast in 2017. “I have always believed in doing things as long as one wants to do them and as soon as you don’t want to do something you should stop.” He will work on Sherlock “as long as we are free and enjoying it. I know it’s a good show. The truth is, though, it has got more and more difficult to factor in.”

Gatiss says: “We have accidentally cast the two biggest stars in the country.” Moffatt says: “Everybody else pays them more than we do’

Cumberbatch says he is “pretty determined” to keep playing Sherlock in the modern day and maybe even as a Victorian sleuth in more specials. “I’m still enjoying it and we’ll see how the next series goes. I would love to keep ageing with him. Martin and I started this relatively young compared to a lot of Holmes and Watsons, so why not?”
Sherlock: The Abominable Bride
, BBC One, New Year’s Day, 9pm

sometimes I think (probably because I heard someone say it before while I read a book on my cellphone while they all talked) that some people at church think that I am “seeking attention” and its like, nah, its anxiety. If I’m sitting there, leave me really. Some simple things aren’t too simple for me and you staring at me judgmentally doesn’t help. 

If I Could Wish For Anything...

Anon asked:  hi there!! Could I request an alternative ending to the jungkook scenario? Where he wakes up and everything is fluffy and happy!! Thank you so much ^__^

 I hope you like it, anon! 

(Angst Ending)


“If you could wish for anything in the world, what would you wish for?”

“Are you serious? We’re supposed to be studying for our exams.”

“Answer the question. What would you wish for?”

“Jungkook.”

“Y/N”

“You’re not gonna let me study in peace until I answer, are you?”

“Nope~”

“Fine.” The sound of pencil rolling against a faux wooden table echoed in the computer room. “If I could wish for anything in the world… Ah, that’s a hard question, Oppa. What would you wish for?” Your head dipped to the side curiously as you eyed the black haired male, a cheeky smile playing on his features.

“Me? I would wish to have a chance to punch the person who invented exams, obviously.” He replied easily and much quicker than you.

If you could wish for anything in the world, what would you wish for? That’s kind of a loaded question, isn’t it? The things you would like to wish for seemed so.. Childish. Like a 5 year old wishing to go to Walt Disney World. If you had one wish, you would want to use it on something that mattered. Something worth while. But this is a rhetorical question, why are you putting so much thought into it?

Jungkook waved a hand in front of your face to bring you back from your thoughts. “So, Y/N? You still haven’t answered the question. What would you wish for?”

You picked your pencil back up and turned your attention back to your notes as you spoke, “I would wish for you to shut up while I study for this exam.”

“YAH!” Jungkook shouted, clutching the fabric of his shirt and feigning being wounded by your words. “You’re so mean to your Oppa!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he fell out of his chair and writhed in mock pain on the floor. His theatrics never failed to make you laugh. He never failed to make you laugh. Jungkook was your best friend, and possibly only friend, in the whole wide world. You two have been through thick and thin together, always being there no matter what. Your friendship was undeniable among everyone at school. You care in pairs and everyone knew that. To see one without the other was a rare occasion. People swore you and Jungkook were attached at the hip. And maybe you were. But neither of you were complaining. You were very happy with your relationship with Jeon Jungkook. And nothing could change that.


The following day, Jungkook came to school very late, having arrived during lunch. His head hung low and a hood to hide his face. He didn’t look for you at all. In fact, you were the one to approach him first as he tried to escape down an empty hall, away from the crowd of students. Jungkook wasn’t usually like this. He was always happy and upbeat around you, but shy when it came to new people. So on days when he came to school late, you knew something happened.

Jungkook’s home life was less than perfect, and you knew that. You always begged him to stay at your house, to stay away from the hell he called home, but he always assured you he would be okay, that he’s fine. But there are days like this where things go from bad to worse in his house and he ends up physically paying for it. These were the days you knew Jungkook needed you the most even if he would never admit it out loud.

“Oppa.” You called in a gentle voice as you walked after him. Your short legs moving fast to keep up with his long strides. “Oppa, wait. Please.”

He didn’t stop. He never does.

You had to jog just to reach the older male, catching him by his hand. “Jungkook…” He ceased his strides, visibly stiffening under your gentle touch. “Jungkook, please… Look at me.” Your voice was quiet and small.

It took him a moment, but Jungkook slowly turned to face you, and what you saw made you suck in a sharp breath. Jungkook’s usual clear and flawless face was now bruised. A purple mark claimed his right cheekbone while his left eye donned a black eye and his lip was cut, the blood now clotted. His dark chestnut eyes fell away as he hung his head in shame, avoiding all eye contact. You tried to find words  to comfort your best friend, to try and help him feel better, but nothing came. You stood there with your jaw slacked at the sight of your battered friend.

Then Jungkook started to shake, quiet sniffles the only sound in the empty hall save for the buzzing of the lights overhead. His hand tightened around yours and his shoulders shook. You spoke his name in nothing more than a breath and embraced him tightly, feeling tears prick your eyes as well. His arms locked around your waist in the tightest hug you had ever received while his face was buried in the crook of your neck. You could feel his tears run down your shoulder and stain your shirt as he quietly sobbed. It only made you hold him tighter.

The rest of the day, he was quiet with his head hung low so no one could see his face. When the bell signaled the end of school, he sat glued to his seat, staring at the desk. You pulled up a chair next to him and sat there in silence, wanting to do more for him. If you could, you have taken away all of his hurt, all of the pain and the suffering that he was experiencing right now. You wanted nothing more than to take him away from this hell and give him the life he deserves.


It was 3AM when you received a call from Jungkook. Only it wasn’t your best friend calling for a late night adventure.

“Hello? Is Y/N there?” A female voice came through the phone. “I apologize for calling so late, but it is very important.”

Your heart slammed painfully against your chest as you bolted upright in your bed. “Speaking… What’s going on?” Your voice shook.

“Jeon Jungkook was admitted to the hospital less than an hour ago, miss.” She spoke quickly and clearly. Your heart turned to lead. “Your name was the only contact in his phone.”

“What happened….?” Tears burned your eyes and your body began to shake as you feared the worst.

“He was involved in an accident-”

You didn’t allow the nurse to finish her sentence as you flew out of bed. “I’ll be there soon.” Then you hung up, throwing your phone into your purse. You leapt into your shoes and threw on a coat and scarf before flying out the door towards your car.

It took 5 minutes to get to the hospital and another 2 to find out where Jungkook was, only to find out your best friend was in surgery. So you paced the waiting room impatiently. A million scenarios ran through your head of what could happen. Of what probably happened. Each scenario worse than the last and making you physically ill.

It was 3 hours later when a nurse came in to take you to his room.

He looked so small and childlike laying in the hospital bed, save for the bruising on his face and collarbone. His heart monitor beeped steadily and the IV dripped rhythmically. You hand clutched at your stomach at the feeling of it tying into knots at the sight of him, your big strong best friend. His bruising was worse than it was before. The nurse explained to you that he had been badly beaten before the accident, making his injuries worse than they could have been.

“He’s stable,” she continued. “But we are not out of the woods just yet. He sustained trauma to the head that the doctor is worried about.” You simply nodded as you walked closer to him, one slow step at a time. It felt like one wrong move could send him crashing down. “I’ll leave you alone…” The nurse spoke softly before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

You pulled a chair close to the bed and hesitantly took his hand in yours. You felt your tears run down your cheeks, finally breaking down. It was your turn to cry now.

“You idiot…” Your voice nothing more than a whimper. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have come to get you. You know I would have.”

No reply, of course. Just the rhythmic beeping of the monitor and you occasional sniffle. You prayed silently for him to wake up, for him to be okay. Talking to him felt stupid when you knew he wouldn’t reply. But you kept talking anyway. You talked about the weird dream you had before the call. You told him about what you planned for them to do during the first week of winter break. You told him how excited you were to finally go snowboarding after so long and how you planned to rent out a cabin for the two of you.

Slowly, you started to run out of topic to have a one sided conversation about. Your voice trailed off as you racked your brain for something to keep talking about. Something to keep you sane until he woke up. A light bulb went off in your head.

“Remember when you asked me what I would wish for if I could wish for anything in the world?” You asked and paused for a moment, as if expecting a reply. “And how I told you I’d wish for you to shut up so I could study? I didn’t mean for you to take that so seriously…” Your voice cracked. “Jungkook please wake up.. I can’t live without my best friend. I need you,” You quiet voice turned to a sob as you spoke, begging him to stay with you. To wake up.

“If I could wish for anything in the world, I would wish for you to stay by my side for as long as we both live because I can’t live in a world without you. I don’t see a point in staying if you aren’t here either.” Sobs violently racked your body. Your head lowered and your pressed his motionless hand against your cheek as you cried. “Please don’t leave me”

You felt the once motionless hand grip yours tight and Jungkook stirred, slowly coming back to life. He grunted in pain as he twisted his body to much for it to handle in it’s current state and brought his free to his face to rub his eyes. You stared with wide eyes as he blinked, slowly waking up from his slumber. There was silence for what seemed like ages, is eyes glued to the white tiled ceiling. You swear you could see the gears in his head begin to turn when he finally laid his beautiful chocolate brown eyes on you. Your heart hammered in your chest. He’s awake.

Why would I ever leave you?” His voice was rough and deep like it was every morning when he called to wake you up for school. That calming morning voice soothing all of your worries, chasing away your worst thoughts. “I would never leave  you… Not for the world.” A smile painted across his dried lips.

Your lungs screamed for air, making you release a breath you never knew you were even holding and his name fell off your lips in that same exhale. Tears welled up in your eyes as you nearly threw yourself at him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, taking in his scent. Your hands clutched the pale hospital gown that covered his broad chest. Sobs racked your body again. Jungkook stifled a grunt of pain, his arms wrapping around your back to hold just like he did when you came to him crying. His embrace was warm and comforting. It was like the sun that warmed your skin on a nice summer day. It was like hot cocoa during winter. It was your safe haven, a place you could go to and be welcomed back each and every time.

His chest rumbled under your hands as he spoke again, his voice quiet and gentle. “If I could wish for anything in the world, it would be to stay by your side until the end of the line, Y/N.” His words warmed your body and soothed your aching heart. “So please, stop crying. I’m still here, and I will always be here.”

As much as you wanted to answer, you just couldn’t find your voice. So you nodded. You grip tightened, fisting the fabric of the gown so tightly because you felt like he could slip away at any moment. He was here and he was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay.

For the next few weeks he was in the hospital, you never really left your spot next to him on the bed except to get food that wasn’t the cardboard the hospital provided and to get him the set of clothes he kept stowed away in your house. You spent your days listening to music or watching horribly funny movies tucked safely under his arm. Everything was right in the world.

“Hey, Jungkook?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna know what I would wish for if I could have anything in the world?”

“What would you wish for?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Yeah… Nothing. Because I everything I need and want in the world right here.”

Fear & Loathing (Part 1)

A/N: This is something I’ve been working on for a while. This is just part one, there will be more to come. This is a OC I’ve created. You’ll get to know more about her past as the story goes on but basically she was experimented on and because of it she has heightened senses. She was basically turned into a weapon which is something she is struggling with. 

Hopefully you guys like this story. Let me know what you think. The title was inspired by the song Fear & Loathing by Marina & the Diamonds. Also shout out to @dirtytrenchcoatcas for beta-ing this, thanks so much! 

Paring: (Eventual) Steve Rogers x OC

(Read Part 2 Here)


It had been about a month since I had moved into Avengers tower. I was the newest member of the Avengers, having been recruited by former members of a strike team I was a part of a long time ago. Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton were and still are close friends and I’m extremely trusting with them. I haven’t yet warmed up completely to all of the other Avengers.

I liked the Captain well enough, but I still had my guard up. I couldn’t decide if I could trust him fully without him reporting back to Fury. I didn’t need an informant as an ally. There’s another reason too, but its one that doesn’t need discussing.

I’m on good terms with the two scientists, Bruce and Tony.  They made me laugh, how they bicker back and forth to each other like an old married couple. I would never admit this, but I secretly liked Stark’s perverse sense of flirting. He knew I was way out of his league, but it never stopped him from saying something outlandish. It amused me.

I had yet to meet Thor, he hadn’t returned from Asgard yet but I had heard of what he had done for our planet. I respected him, and believed that I would grow to trust him.

“Hey Mercy!”

I heard the Captain call my name. The muscles in my back tensed as I turned around. I saw him with an African American guy. Ex-military I deduced. On American soil for about two years now. Right handed. I observed all his weak spots, calculated the many ways I could kill him without Steve being able to interfere.

Not that I planned on killing the guy, but hey, you never know. It was like Tony told me once, ‘You’re like a boy scout Mercy. Always prepared’. I didn’t like that my brain worked that way, like a calculated killing machine, but it had become a necessity. It was something that had been ingrained into me since I could remember.

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olha p minha cara e me diz se eu pareço tao fudida assim

too many fandomssss

SHUT UP I’LL MARRY WITH PIZZA

okay? okay o cacete para de postar foto desse livro porra

oi stalker

☹ sad teens with happy faces ☺

vc n é tao fabulosa quanto eu

pizza is better than you

twitter is my diary

☾ Intoxicated with madness ☽

wonderl△nd

se eu disser q me chamo romeu vc deixa eu te fuder julieta?

silence is better than bullshit

you hurt the only one who would never hurt you

infuckity and beyond

die bitch die

♡ pils ♡ 

zombies eat brains, relax, you'r safe

soulless

✖ take a wish be a bitch ✖

viva enquanto é jovem

● somos imortais ●

seu argumento é invalido

”why so serious?”