Bless The Broken Road

by deityrosemaryburkeperezverte

Slit and Deity travel down memory lane.

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h2 style="margin: 0px; font-weight: normal; padding-top: 5px; cursor: default; position: relative; top: -2px;"a style="box-sizing: border-box; width: auto; font-size: 12px; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" href=" art/Scars-Slit-x-Reader-Mad-Max-Fury-Road-541741037"span style="color: #000000;"Scars (Slit x Reader) [Mad Max: Fury Road] /span/a/h2
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li class="author" style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 15px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"by span class="name"span class="username-with-symbol u"a class="u regular username" style="box-sizing: border-box;" href=" "Wulferious/a/span/span, span title="Jun 24, 2015, 2:14:03 AM"1 week, 5 days ago/span/span/li
li class="category" style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 15px;"span style="color: #000000;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"a style="box-sizing: border-box;" href=" literature/"Literature/a / a style="box-sizing: border-box;" href=" literature/fanfiction/"Fan Fiction/a / a style="box-sizing: border-box;" href=" literature/fanfiction/romance/"Romance/a/span/span/li
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div class="gr-body" style="border: 0px; overflow: hidden; word-break: break-word; zoom: 1; position: relative; box-sizing: border-box;"
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div class="text" style="box-sizing: border-box; padding: 15px 15px 37px 33px; margin: 0px auto; z-index: 20; position: relative; word-wrap: break-word; overflow-wrap: break-word;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"(I'm just pretending that Slit had also changed sides here and lived past the end. I know I'm 'lorebending' here, but everyone does it once or twice, right?)br /br /Slit had never imagined believing in something else. He never thought that what he was brought up to worship was a lie. He lived a brutal life, and he had the scars to show it. Yet, it was for nothing. In the past few weeks, his life had been flipped completely upside down. It was much too fast for him to comprehend. But, at least he got something worthwhile out of /br /(y/n) sat just inside Slit's line of sight, sitting on a cushion and silently reading. He sat in the other corner of the room, across from her, leaning against the warm rock, enjoying his comfort as he pondered. Ever since Furiosa had taken back the Citadel, he felt more free and able. His sickness was in the back of his mind. He could go wherever he wanted, and he could do anything he wanted. But, he just wanted to sit there, in that room, basking in the silence between (y/n) and /br /Slit loved to watch (y/n). She was quiet, gentle, and elegant. She would take so much care in all that she did. So much so that Slit felt like he had to punch something just to feel intense and chrome again. But, he still loved to watch how she began to turn the pages of her book before she finished reading, how she gently brushed her fingers through her (h/c) hair, and how she would trace his skin with the tips of her fingers when bandaging up an injury. br /br /Soon enough, Slit's mind wandered over from his new view of life to just… emher/em. (y/n) had something about her that made his whole body feel hot… he had the urge to stare at her (which he did), and admire her. He wanted to touch her, run his fingers through her hair, along her shoulders, and down her waist. He wanted to talk to her, maybe ask a question that required a long answer, just so that he could hear her voice. Never had he longed for this, and the thought made him shift in his spot. br /br /(y/n) looked up from her book, closing it, but she kept a finger in the pages, as if she wanted to remember the spot she had left off at. br /br /"Is something wrong, Slit?" She asked, and Slit felt like he could melt just at how she raised the tone of her voice when she asked the question. Slit took a long blink, and shook his head. He felt almost breathless when (y/n) smiled genuinely at him. Slit opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out. No sarcastic comment, no mean-spirited denial that he was staring, and no simple answer to her question. br /br /(y/n) seemed to let out a small chuckle, leaving Slit astonished. He thought she must have been offended by his lack of reply. Instead, (y/n) slipped her finger out of the book, gently placing the object on the floor. Slowly, she made her way over to where Slit sat. br /br /(y/n)'s mouth was slightly agape as she observed the War Boy. Slit was left confused, trying to lean backwards a little bit from her, attempting to understand what she wanted. But, he felt a twist of his stomach when she reached up to touch him. Slit and (y/n) locked eyes as she silently asked for Slit's consent. Gulping, Slit imagined that it was possible that maybe (y/n) wanted the same thing he /br /Slowly, and nervously, Slit nodded. Many of his scars were carvings of engines and fire onto his skin, but some others were held together with small metal plates, and were the object of his only fragment of self-consciousness. (y/n) traced all of his scars and scabbing injuries, all with the same amount of care and gentleness. It was almost like delicately swiping a feather or a thin piece of softly frayed rope across his skin. Slit never liked having those injuries, but in the way that (y/n) was admiring him, he felt… proud of /br /Slit shivered, and a series of tingles ran up his spine. Slit looked over (y/n)'s face, whose cheeks were tinged pink, and she eyed him in a way that made him want to jump at her, and engulf her in a close embrace. He clenched his hands for a moment, trying to decide if he would be able to touch her, too. After all that had happened in the years previous, being intimate towards her still seemed wrong to do without /br /Slit parted his lips, and was barely able to whisper his question. "Can I….?" He managed, and he was met with another smile and a nod. br /br /With confidence, Slit did his best to replicate (y/n)'s care for him. He reached up and combed her hair, trying not to get his fingers caught in any knots. When his palm reached the crown of her head, he began to gently lead her towards him. He wanted… more. He felt greedy. First, they touched foreheads, and (y/n) began to trace the flame scars on his shoulder. Then, they delicately touched noses. br /br /Slit's heart began to pump faster, and he felt his breathing get a little bit more labored. After what seemed like forever, Slit moved to press his lips against (y/n)'s. br /br /The kiss felt like Valhalla to him. She was so soft, and she fit perfectly against his lips. Neither of them knew how to kiss properly, but that hardly meant a thing. Slit's eyes began to close, and he basked in only the feeling. Slit's chest began to tighten, and butterflies filled his stomach. Slit gripped (y/n)'s hair a bit, but not enough to hurt her, while she inched closer to him, and wrapped her hands around his back. br /br /Slit felt like he could do this forever. He could just embrace her, feel her presence… touch her. Slit felt at home, he felt loved, included, and equal. All of his past worries and thoughts faded away. He didn't feel indefinite about his many scars. It was all just… her. She was all that he needed. /span/div
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h1 style="margin: 0px; min-width: 250px; width: calc(100% - 60px); position: absolute; left: 0px; top: -3px; padding: 0px 10px 0px 50px; text-overflow: ellipsis; overflow: hidden;"a style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-right: 115px; font-size: 12px; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" href=" art/Scars-Slit-x-Reader-Mad-Max-Fury-Road-541741037" data-ga_click_event="{:0}"span style="color: #000000;"Scars (Slit x Reader) [Mad Max: Fury Road]/span/asmall style="display: block; margin: -3px 0px 0px;"span style="font-size: 12px; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"span class="by"by/span span class="username-with-symbol u"a class="u regular username" style="box-sizing: border-box;" href=" " data-ga_click_event="{:0}"Wulferious/a/span/span/small/h1
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div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Comfort-Max-Rockatansky-x-Reader-538429227" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Comfort (Max Rockatansky x Reader)/strongbr /Ever since the Stranger had joined the War Rig, things had balanced out between getting worse and getting better. You and the other 'wives' had sat in the back and helped out with reloading guns, and you had done your best to keep your cool as the man kept a gun pointed at Splendid. In truth, you felt helpless, and the fact that a stranger had to come along for the ride didn't help. He was constantly threatening you with death while you were only trying to get away from /Eventually, the stranger had put down the gun, and decided to help instead of taking Furiosa hostage and taking the group wherever he saw fit. You had gained a very strange respect and affection for him over the past day or two, even though he never really talked and communicated with grunts and hand signals. After the whole fiasco with his suspicion and the fight between him and Furiosa, he had been quite respectful, other than the gun thing. Perhaps that was just a strange mental tick about /During/q/span/a/span/span/div
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div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Stars-Obi-Wan-x-Reader-489585301" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Stars (Obi-Wan x Reader)/strongbr /You wondered why Obi-Wan loved you. He had everything. He was a Jedi, and you were just a measly waitress with low self-esteem, waiting for her call to the /You guessed it started somewhere around the time when he was still a Padawan under the watchful guidance of Master Qui-Gonn /They had come to the restaurant you worked at, searching for people who may know something about some strange artifact you couldn't remember the name /Every day after whenever he wasn't busy, Obi-Wan came there for lunch, and always asked for you. It happened faster than you wished, and suddenly you were sneaking into the Jedi temple just to see /Not that it was em style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"really /emsneaking, since you were pretty sure this Force jazz the Jedi always talked about let them know you were /Then came the days when they brought Anakin from that Tattooine /He was a strange little boy, albeit sweet. Whenever he joined Obi-Wan on his lunch trips, you had the feeling that the boy was stran/q/span/a/span/span/div
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div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Mistakes-Obi-Wan-x-Reader-483001120" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Mistakes (Obi-Wan x Reader)/strongbr /strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"((AUTHOR'S NOTEbr /This fanfic took me like 3 weeks to make. Just before school started I watched The Phantom Menace again. It was then I realized that I was in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi. I mean, in the original series he was one of my favourite characters, but he was a crusty old guy then, haha. But in the prequels... man! (Ewan McGregor, guys. He's a gift.) Anyway, I wanted to write a fanfiction about him, and while writing it I came across so many writers blocks and during that time I couldn't even come up with a name for the reader's master. So, that's where you guys come in. (M/N) literally means (Mater's Name). You get to make it up. It makes my job a little easier, and gives you a chance to get a little creative. (Y/N) is the standard (Your Name) as usual. I hope you enjoy!)) /strongbr /Strolling into the Jedi temple, materials in hand, you decided that you were going to construct your very own Lightsaber. You had one while you were still in training as a child, but you had lost yours/q/span/a/span/span/div
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li style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 90px; width: 90px; display: inline-block; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; margin: 0px 9px 15px 0px;"
div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/The-Truth-MacManus-Twins-x-Reader-BDS-511681955" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"The Truth (MacManus Twins x Reader) -BDS-/strongbr /(A/N: Just a small note to warn you: This is a polyamourous relationship between you and the MacManus twins. Both of them have done the do with you, the reader. It also has one swear word, I think. Could be more.)br /The now familiar click of your sixth pregnancy test went off in the small bathroom of the apartment you shared with the MacManus brothers. The pink plus sign appeared on the little screen again, and it seemed to taunt you, like the five previous pee sticks had. This pissed you off, and you decided to take your anger out on the test, chucking it as hard as you could. You chucked it, so hard in fact, that the stick bounced off the mirror of the room and flew back to hit you in the /"Fuck!" You yelled, slamming your head into your hands. Thankfully, (in your mind, anyway) your boyfriends weren't there with you. They were off doing exactly what they always did; bringing in the 'pay' after they took care of business wherever the gangs, mobs or criminals were/q/span/a/span/span/div
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li style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 90px; width: 90px; display: inline-block; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; margin: 0px 9px 15px 0px;"
div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/PTSD-Thor-x-Stark-Veteran-Reader-518546344" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"PTSD (Thor x Stark!Veteran!Reader)/strongbr /Guns, bullets, blood, flesh. Every night you woke up screaming, your brain tearing through the memories that you had done so much to forget. Therapy, antidepressants, confiding in friends, alcohol, even one time you dared to try drugs. You were only 23, 2 years after leaving your service in the Navy SEALS. This was one mistake out of many in your life; but it would be the biggest, and longest lasting one of them /You had done a grand total of five tours, experiencing and causing more deaths than you had ever hoped to. You had enlisted when you were 17, thinking that you would be serving your family and your country. But you had realized that you were wrong. You were 21. You were a murderer, praised for all the people you had killed overseas. It wasn't /Nothing helped. Nothing ever will, war was a part of you now. Perhaps you should have gotten out when you had the chance, but the stigma of serving your country seemed to have a larger effect on your mental state than you/q/span/a/span/span/div
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li style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 90px; width: 90px; display: inline-block; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; margin: 0px 9px 15px 0px;"
div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Kisses-The-Group-x-Child-Reader-TWD-511150973" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Kisses (The Group x Child! Reader) -TWD-/strongbr /strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"(A/N: Like in the description, this fanfiction sort of focuses more on the reader's bond with Daryl and it features a conversation with him rather than different conversations with the whole group. But, I decided to make it a 'Group x Reader' as the story is centered around the reader's affection for everyone.) /strongbr /You're four. The youngest member of the group; the daughter of Glenn and Maggie Rhee. Every day, the group was more and more amazed by how smart you were. You knew a lot of words, even though you were still working on pronouncing everyone's names properly. You knew that there were times to be serious, and times to be relaxed. Perhaps this mindset came with the package of the fact that you were born to the apocalypse. Life and death were very easy things to learn /Your mom and dad say every day that they're proud of you, and the rest of the group had shown that through their smiles and their eyes. You could always tell what people were feeling through their eyes/q/span/a/span/span/div
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div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Worry-Daryl-x-Pregnant-Reader-516558714" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Worry (Daryl x Pregnant!Reader)/strongbr /(A/N: Small spoiler warning for Season 5.)br /Alexandria was supposed to be safe. A home. Daryl was skeptical of anything that donned that name. At least, there were doctors and a surgeon. So, Daryl had finally decided to let go, to (y/n)'s relief. He didn't think he had to worry about (y/n) giving birth anymore. He had been terrified for her life ever since the day that she had told him that she was pregnant, and that was around nine months ago. He /He didn't want her to leave his life. He loved her more than life itself, and losing her would definitely end /At first, he had gotten angry at her for even suggesting that they do anything remotely related to anything that could risk their lives; but he had given in anyway. He guessed that he needed that type of closeness, especially after all that's happened. He knew the risks, but at that time, he didn't /Knowing how strong and confident (y/n) was, over time, his worry and anger decreased. He couldn't blame the pregnancy s/q/span/a/span/span/div
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div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Just-A-Dream-Daryl-x-Pregnant-Reader-510036300" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Just A Dream (Daryl x Pregnant! Reader)/strongbr /em style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"The world... it was beautiful again. The smell of flowers and the forest filled your nose. You could feel the brightness in the sun, the warmth on your skin. No longer did you need weapons. There were no walkers. There were no walkers!br /No shambling, dead smelling, maggot infested... strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"things/strong that would turn you into one of them with just a snap of their teeth and a tick of a clock. No, those things were long gone. Their smell seemed to have dissipated like damp mist when morning turned to afternoon. br /You were slightly saddened to be alone, despite what you were seeing. Why wasn't the group here? You asked yourself. Ever since you found out you were pregnant, everyone, especially Daryl, had kept both eyes on you almost all the time. Well, either way, you liked the /The leaves crunched underneath your feet, and chirping birds were flying overhead. Turning your head to a larger tree, you saw a squirrel scurry up the bark. You stifled a giggle, knowing that if Dary/em/q/span/a/span/span/div
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h4 style="margin: 0px; font-weight: normal;"span style="color: #000000;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"a class="collection-name" style="box-sizing: border-box;" href=" favourites/55682813/Will-read-fics" data-ga_click_event="{:0}"Will read fics/a by span class="username-with-symbol u"a class="u regular username" style="box-sizing: border-box;" href=" " data-ga_click_event="{:0}"Kisuneflame01/a/span/span/span/h4
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li style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 90px; width: 90px; display: inline-block; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; margin: 0px 9px 15px 0px;"
div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Thranduil-x-Reader-wine-women-and-song-462115830" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Thranduil x Reader 'wine, women, and song'/strong'What's so extravagant about wine, women, and song?' Thranduil silently mused this to himself; leaning back in his throne. Usually the king would love to take part in such an event, but lately something, more like someone, has been on his mind. He quietly scanned the crowd looking for his favorite advisor. br /"She's out in the gardens." Thranduil simply nodded, "Now Elrond, whoever are you talking about?" Elrond scoffed, "still in denial I see." Smiling softly, he added "If you just talk to her, I think you'll be quite amazed." Thranduil looked to his friend, who gave a reassuring nod. He slowly stood and headed for the /Making his way through the crowd, excusing himself every so often, his kingly courage started to wither. As soon as he reached the doorway, he made a beeline for the wine. He drank half a glass before he realized Elrond was staring intensely at him. As soon as he made eye contact w/q/span/a/span/span/div
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div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Like-No-Other-Pietro-Maximoff-x-Reader-539328855" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Like No Other (Pietro Maximoff x Reader)/strongbr / (Y/N) walked through the halls of the Avengers facility heading to her office. She was a doctor who currently attended to illnesses and injuries. She hoped one day to work in the labs helping with medical advances, but for now she was happy just to be working around the / It was early in the morning and the only sound that could be heard were the clicking of her heels against the floor. There weren't many people walking the halls this early so she would scroll through her cell phone messages without fear of bumping into someone. She looked to see if her boyfriend, Steve Rogers, sent her any messages. He was currently off on a mission and he only sent her a message if it was important. He really wasn't one for using cell / They began dating a few months ago after she popped hi/q/span/a/span/span/div
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div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Obnoxious-Flirt-chapter-4-Draco-x-reader-x-Harry-528236386" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Obnoxious Flirt chapter 4 (Draco x reader x Harry)/strong Over the next couple of weeks (Y/N) kept busy studying. She was determined to get back to where she was before. She spent a lot of time in the library with Hermione, who had become a big help to her. When she wasn't in the library, she would be in her room reading. Even during her meals she had a book in her hand. She would eat quickly and leave, making it almost impossible for Draco to talk to her. He would get a few words with her, here and there, but nothing significant. On the positive side for him, it also meant that Harry wasn't getting time with her either. br / Draco made his way to the library to look for (Y/N). He was hoping to get a few minutes with her. He didn't want to disturb her studying, but he really wanted to be with her. Entering the library he saw her gathering her things about to leave. He was grateful that he wouldn't be interrupt/q/span/a/span/span/div
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h4 style="margin: 0px; font-weight: normal;"span style="color: #000000;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"a class="collection-name" style="box-sizing: border-box;" href=" favourites/49604567/stories-comics-literature-and-journals" data-ga_click_event="{:0}"stories, comics, literature and journals/a by span class="username-with-symbol u"a class="u regular username" style="box-sizing: border-box;" href=" " data-ga_click_event="{:0}"ShadowChaser12/a/span/span/span/h4
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h4 style="margin: 0px; font-weight: normal;"span style="color: #000000;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"a class="collection-name" style="box-sizing: border-box;" href=" favourites/62196577/awesome-stories" data-ga_click_event="{:0}"awesome stories/a by span class="username-with-symbol u"a class="u premium username" style="box-sizing: border-box;" href=" " data-ga_click_event="{:0}"zen-rha/a/span/span/span/h4
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li style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 90px; width: 90px; display: inline-block; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; margin: 0px 9px 15px 0px;"
div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Crashlanding-Protocol-Part-II-Pietro-x-Reader-536030067" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Crashlanding Protocol - Part II [Pietro x Reader]/strongbr /strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"em style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"WARNING/em/strong: Extreme Age of Ultron spoilers below. For those who have not seen the movie yet, do not read any further than this. br /You watch the whole scene unfold into chaos a safe fifty feet up, peering from /Loud shouts of alarm fill the air as the Avengers touch down on the snow. Some of the bolder HYDRA agents chase after them, whilst already a dozen others lie defeated on the ground or are disappearing into the /"em style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"Shit!/em" you hear Tony cry out. Apparently his tactic to crash into the HYDRA base failed - not at all surprising. br /"Language!" Steve replies, "JARVIS, what's the view from upstairs?"br /"Oh, so I'm just the co-pilot, huh?" You feign hurtfulness, but the end of the question catches in your throat. You clear it to continue. "Go ahead, J."br /As JARVIS rattles off the data - amidst two assassins' snark that the mission's taking too long - you spot Steve/q/span/a/span/span/div
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div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Crashlanding-Protocol-Part-III-Pietro-x-Reader-536321294" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Crashlanding Protocol - Part III [Pietro x Reader]/strongbr /strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"WARNING/strong: Major spoilers for Age of Ultron /When you wake, you're only vaguely aware of your hands tied behind your back. Your captors must have some skill in ropes if your fingers can't sense anything. The warm and sticky residue on your head must mean that you've hit the window glass hard. br /A few whispers of a foreign tongue sound behind your back, two voices rising and falling in a steady flow of /The presence of your captors' kick you into SHIELD overdrive, recalling all the protocols for kidnapping that have been drilled into your /em style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"Analyze the situation and environment; a few extra seconds of information could potentially save your /embr /Not really much to go on; tinted windowpanes flank the walls, and a large crack through one of them reveals snow blanketing the ground outside. Could be Sokovia, or any other wintery region in the world. For all you know, you could be holed up in one of Red Skull's old Switzerland bunkers/q/span/a/span/span/div
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div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Bleeding-Out-Pietro-Maximoff-x-reader-538132000" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Bleeding Out (Pietro Maximoff x reader)/strongbr /strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"Bleeding Out/strongbr /strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"It's recommended to listen to: Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons. /strongbr / The Avenger's Tower was lonely. Pietro zipped around the room, throwing everything in his path. He flipped the tables, destroyed glasses, pulled the stuffing from the cushions, made the books fly. The floor was littered with porcelain and glass shards. The walls missed its paintings and pictures. The room was filled with angry growls coming from his throat and pages that levitated because of Pietro's speed. His knuckles were white and his forehead sweaty. It was a / He was a wreck. He was / Earlier that day, Pietro had visited Tony to talk about his new suit and shoes yet Tony had been busy talking to Fury on the phone. He stood behind the door and eavesdropped. He had heard your name and words like, 'no contact?' 'danger' 'dead' and 'extended'. Then, Tony had told him that y/q/span/a/span/span/div
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h3 class="dev-right-bar-title more-from-da-title" style="margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 28px; background-image: url(' morelikethis/blt_ '); background-position: 0px -190px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"span style="font-size: 12px; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"More from DeviantArt/span/h3
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li style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 90px; width: 90px; display: inline-block; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; margin: 0px 9px 15px 0px;"
div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Comfort-Nurtures-Attachment-TeenDeanxTeenReader-482314775" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Comfort Nurtures Attachment (TeenDeanxTeenReader)/strong"You want to know how I feel, Dean? I'm insecure. I'm so fucking insecure, anxiety constantly eats at me, and I try so hard to be liked! To help the people with their maths, or grab their lunch when I'm already in the line at the canteen. And it hurts so much that I'm still not good enough for anyone. People still talk about me, and I'm the weirdo and- I- yes.. I like you, but I could never expect you to like me back- How could I when I don't even like myself?" Quickly you buried your face in your hands- you had never opened up like this /Dean's face was one of shock, he never knew that each of the students mean jabs hurt you this way- he never realised just how fragile you were. How ugly you /Taking you into his embrace without a moments thought, he squished your smaller frame so tightly into his chest- and just held you. As you felt the large arms wrap around you, you instantly squeezed him closer; not questioning the/q/span/a/span/span/div
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div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Steve-Rogers-x-Reader-Homesick-ACTUAL-FINALE-536427374" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"[Steve Rogers x Reader] Homesick (ACTUAL FINALE)/strongThere was a sharp knock on the door. Steve startled awake, groaning as he groggily came to. It was light outside the slatted blinds and the air was thick with the bitter smell of alcohol and smoke. He was lying face down on his bunk, green collared shirt rumpled on his chest and his blond hair was a mess from the pillow. Levering himself onto his forearms, he pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead, / "Who is it?" Steve called in a scratchy morning voice. His mouth was dry and his head was pounding. This was by far the worst hangover he'd had in seventy / "Open the door, Rogers." Natasha's voice was muffled through the door, but unmistakably cold. Odd. It was taking a while for last night's memories to return as Steve started to haul himself / "Can you two keep it down?" Tony muttered from somewhere. Surprised, Steve glanced to see the smaller man sprawled on the carpet, rubbing at his eyes. Tony was still in his full uniform and a whiskey glas/q/span/a/span/span/div
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div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Peter-Quill-x-Reader-One-Shot-Mixtape-Misfortune-494019300" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Peter Quill x Reader One-Shot Mixtape Misfortune/strongbr /strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"Mixtape Misfortune/strongbr /strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"A Peter Quill x Reader/strongbr /By em style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"SophiaofTerra/embr / "Hey! What's the ma-ah-ahhh-tt-chhh-"br / You glanced at Peter in alarm before reaching over to the tape deck and pressing the off switch. A jolt of panic flew through you as you caught a glimpse of misplaced plastic tape, your mind racing as you reached for the cassette within the deck. Before you could pop it out, Peter took a hold of your / "No," he said sternly, eying the tape as if a single movement would alert it to flee; he stepped a little closer, "let the pro handle it."br / You nodded your/q/span/a/span/span/div
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li style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 90px; width: 90px; display: inline-block; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; margin: 0px 9px 15px 0px;"
div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/So-Close-Castiel-X-Reader-465236177" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"So Close!-Castiel X Reader/strongbr /strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"Warning: One or two swear words. Nothing major. /strongbr /It was a very quiet day at the bunker. The boys had left you there on your own as they went out to try to find more information about Metatron. br /The reason why they had left you behind was because the last time you had accompanied them you made a mistake and nearly got killed and they didn't want that to happen again. Plus, they probably didn't want you to make another mistake and screw up whatever plan they had come up with, as you /You were not very happy about staying behind. You protested, saying that since you had met them, near death experiences were just a regular part of your life now and you could take care of yourself. But they were persistent, especially Dean. Man! Dean was like the annoyingly over-protective big brother you never had. Sam was protective too, but not to the extent Dean was. He was the kind of guy that would greet your new date with a suspicious scowl and a gun tucked into his b/q/span/a/span/span/div
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div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Star-Lord-x-Reader-A-Mini-Fic-Collection-479478267" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Star-Lord x Reader- A Mini!Fic Collection/strongbr /strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"Star-Lord x Reader/strongbr /strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"Inspired by the Awesome Mix Volumes 1 and 2./strongbr /An original collection by SophiaofTerra (c)br /-br /strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"Hooked on a Feeling - Blue Swede/strongbr /Peter sat in his bunk, puzzled. He couldn't get (F/n) out of his /Her (h/l), (h/c) hair, her glowing (s/c) skin, and her remarkable (e/c) eyes had been seared into his mind. He just couldn't believe that she liked /em style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"Then again, what's not to like? /emHe had thought, chuckling to /He stood and walked up the steps to the flight deck, heart rate accelerating when he found her alone, piloting the /"Hey, (F/n)," he said, strutting over to stand next to /"Hello, Peter!" she said, smiling up at him. "Miss flying the Milano?"br /He shook his head, crossing his arms. "Nah, you do a decent job with her. I'm pretty sure she won't be dyin' at your hands."br /She chuckled, pulling the lever up to move the star-ship quickly, veering upwards before dive bombing the gr/q/span/a/span/span/div
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li style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 90px; width: 90px; display: inline-block; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; margin: 0px 9px 15px 0px;"
div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Small-Town-Mystery-Steve-Rogers-x-Reader-Part-2-536423586" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Small Town Mystery [Steve Rogers x Reader] Part 2/strongbr /"Did you want to go check on her?" Steve asked, watching as you kept glancing up at the /"Uh…no…no. Sorry. Please continue." You folded your hands and leaned on them. "So he's been hiding for a year, but you traced him to Wyoming?"br /Steve took a sip of his beer. "Actually, my friend, Sam, was doing the primary searching. I had some business to take care of."br /You turned from cutting up Nathan's hot dog. "Of course," you gave a soft laugh, dropping your gaze before catching his eyes again. "I read about the...uh...em style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"Ultron /emthing." You cleared your throat. "What makes you think he's in Wyoming and especially here in this town?" You tapped your pencil on a notepad you'd pulled from your purse, when he first began telling you his /He tilted his head and you caught something in his eyes. He blinked and glanced away. "I think he's been on a mission/q/span/a/span/span/div
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li style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 90px; width: 90px; display: inline-block; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; margin: 0px 9px 15px 0px;"
div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/True-love-s-kiss-Steve-x-Reader-Part-1-534480213" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"True love's kiss (Steve x Reader) - Part 1/strongbr /strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"1943, Brooklyn - Before Steve and Bucky join the army /strongbr /'em style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; text-shadow: none !important; background-image: none !important; width: auto !important; height: auto !important;"Are you looking for true love, but do you have trouble finding it? Don't wait any longer and get yourself a 'True love's kiss timer'! After a simple injection it will tell you exactly when the kiss with your true love will take place. Brought to you by... /em' br /Steve turned from the small television and looked around the waiting room of the clinic. Somehow Bucky had convinced Steve to get one of those 'True love's kiss timers', even though he knew a device could never tell him when he would meet his true love, let alone when he'd kiss her. br /However, now that the Modern Marvels Pavilion was coming to Brooklyn, the clinic had lowered the price quite substantially, and, since most of the girls in whole of America had gotten themselves one of those timers, Bucky had practically forced Steve to get one as well. br /'Are you sure about this, Bucky?' Steve asked his best friend, rubbing the soft skin of his wr/q/span/a/span/span/div
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li style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 90px; width: 90px; display: inline-block; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; margin: 0px 9px 15px 0px;"
div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Blink-Pietro-MaximoffXReader-529969739" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Blink (Pietro MaximoffXReader)/strongbr /{Contains spoilers from Age of Ultron. Do NOT read if you havent seen the movie}br /Parts of Ultron's army fell around you as you used your pyrokinetic abilities to assist the Avenger's in taking them down. You were fighting alongside your closest friend Wanda and her brother/your boyfriend Pietro Maximoff. So far you had barely seen Pietro after he ran off to help clear the people from the buildings. You stuck close to Wanda helping guard the machine at the center of the church. br /"How many of these things are there?!" You asked yourself out loud as you burned another one of the suits to a crisp. Wanda gave no reply as she focused on taking out as many suits as she could. Upon hearing gun shots outside you looked out worried about your friend. You looked back to Wanda who ignored all the gun /"I'm going to find Pietro!" You said to her, not waiting for a reply before you were running towards where you last saw him. You passed Steve and Thor but so far you had no look finding Pie/q/span/a/span/span/div
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li style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 90px; width: 90px; display: inline-block; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; margin: 0px 9px 15px 0px;"
div class="tt-crop" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; overflow: hidden; margin: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4) 0px 1px 2px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.14902) 0px 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;"span class="tt-w" style="border: 0px;"span class="shadow mild" style="display: block; padding: 0px; background-image: none !important; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;"a class="thumb lit" style="display: inline-block; width: 90px; height: 90px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; border: none; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #f3f6f1, #e0e8dc); box-sizing: border-box; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 1px 1px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 2px 2px; position: relative !important;" href=" art/Mistake-Doflamingo-x-Reader-498529693" data-ga_click_event="{:1}"span class="wrap" style="display: block; width: 150px;"q style="min-height: 0px; position: absolute; left: 0px; padding: 3px; right: 4px; top: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 78px;"strong style="display: block; padding-bottom: 6px;"Mistake Doflamingo x Reader/strong "Yo, baby 5. I was looking for the young master, have you seen him?" Asked Vergo, raising a hand in / "Hm, the last time I saw him he was going to talk with (y/n) in her room." Replied Baby 5. Vergo nodded and walked away. Baby 5 watched him leave and watched him come back again less than a minute later. "You don't know where her room is do you?" Vergo stared at her silently. "Alright I'll show you to her room."br / Vergo and Baby 5 walked together down the hallway, passing door after door until a strange sound met their / "Was that-" Blushed Baby 5. Vergo nodded. "Well should we, you know, check it out? I mean there's no way (y/n) would be doing that, right?"br / "There's only one way to find out," Sighed Vergo as he swung the door / "Eek! V-VERGO-SAN!" You squeaked in embarrassment as you tried to hide yourself under your captain's large feather / "Fufufufu, it seems my littl/q/span/a/span/span/div
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