and the wrong one is of course what will continue to circulate

Laundry Day (M)

word count: 5k

genre: smut; domestic au

pairing: reader/jeongguk

warning(s)/kink(s): dry humping, clothed sex, dirty talk, swearing, fantasizing, slight nipple play, teasing

summary: jeongguk always pioneered one household chore: laundry. now why he had such an affinity for it, you had no idea. that is, until you come home and he lost track of time, causing you to stumble upon him in the midst of something strange and yet altogether intriguing.

music: work out - j.cole ; touchin’, lovin’ - trey songz ft. nicki minaj 

masterlist 

gif credit

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A Life Less Ordinary by Jebiwonkenobi

It takes a few years but eventually they manage to agree on something; Derek Hale is an asshole, and Stiles Stilinski is in love with him.


Burn by night by thebrotherswinchester

Sheriff Stilinski has been kidnapped by Alpha werewolves. As bait. For his own son.


Cupboard Love by mklutz

He’s carefully balancing the sandwiches and the two biggest tupperware containers he could find that both had functioning lids when the front door opens and he almost drops everything right there in front of the stupid fountain.

If that’s Derek Hale, he’s definitely not a mountain man.


Daddy’s Do’s by apocryphal

“Hi Mr. Stilinski!” Lydia said pertly. “My name’s Lydia, and this is my daddy. His name is Derek Andrew Hale and he watches all of your videos on YouTube a lot, but he still can’t braid.”

[Stiles is a celebrity YouTube hairstylist. Derek may or may not have a crush. Lydia just wants a French braid for school picture day.]


Everything’s Better Under the Sea by tryslora

Everything changes when Derek goes under while surfing, hits his head on a board, and sees a man with a tail swimming away. He wants to know who that was, and what it has to do with Beacon Hills, the one place he never meant to come back to.

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Merciless - (M)

Genre; Smut

Length; 3,300+ words 

Kinks; creampie, degradation, punish fucking, breathplay, impact play, etc

Originally posted by taeils-potato-hope

Hoseok and you always had this love/hate relationship going on; one moment you’d both be super chill, joking around with one another then the next you’d be at each other’s throats. 

This was one of those times. 

“Fuck off..” You muttered as Hoseok called you a bitch while he plopped himself down onto the couch beside you. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes in pure annoyance at the situation you were in; just having to be alone with him pissed you off. 

Hoseok turned to you, “Why are you always like this with me?” He asked, combing his fingers through his parted brunette hair. “I’m always so nice to you, y/n. What makes you wanna be so damn rude all the time?” 

As soon as you heard the false innocence his voice, you scoff in disbelief; Was he really trying to pull that shit with you? 
“Do you really want to fucking know Hoseok?” You practically shouted as you turned to face him. 

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Reflection in the mirror (Tony Stark X Daughter!reader)

Originally posted by littlemisssyreid

WARNING:You guys… this one is kind of sad. Sorry :(

To put it simply, you never fit in. At school, at least. Being a Stark already made you stand out from the rest, but when you were eight years old, and ‘magically’ made fire sprout from your palm, it put you on a whole new level. Right up through fifth grade, you were the butt of many jokes, got teased, even bullied by a group of kids, until your father decided enough was enough. He pulled you out of school, and decided to homeschool you at the Avengers tower. 

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The Rescue.

Summary: You are MIA while the crew try desperately to get you back and try to avoid your boyfriend, Spock. 

Spock x Reader

TW: Some strong language. Injury mention.

A/N: This was hecking hard. To say there’s plot holes is an understatement but just enjoy it anyway. It’s nice.

Spock x Reader

Word Count: 3224



“Y/N NOW!” Jim shouted as he stretched out his arm to you as the shuttle in front of you began to fall forwards,

You reached out to grab his hand only managing to brush fingers before he disappeared, leaving you and a falling death trap together. Great.

You ran holding your side which had already been gashed in action, flipping open your comm you attempted to contact the transporter room.

The shuttle fell with a deafening crash quicker than expected.

Before you knew it, everything went black.


“And someone keep Spock off the bridge, the last thing I need right now is a pissed off Vulcan.” Jim said entering the lift to the bridge.

“Aye sir.” an officer barked back as the doors closed

“Has anyone got signal or transmissions of  Lieutenant Y/L/N yet?” Jim asked as he walked towards the captain’s chair to pick up his PADD.

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anonymous asked:

Could you write a fic with the prompt “Stop being so cute.”? (I don't know if you want a specific character but if its directed at Evan then that would be cool~ )

I did this with tree bros, I hope that was okay!


Evan’s fingers shake as he spins the dial on his locker, groaning when he overshoots the third number and has to start inputting the combination all over again. One to the left to 18, two to the right to 3, three to the left to 45. He sucks in a deep breath before trying to pull his locker door open. It makes a horrible metal-on-metal screeching noise, but it pops open nonetheless, revealing messy binders stuffed to the brim with crumpled loose leaf and battered textbooks littered with tiny doodles of dicks. In Evan’s history textbook, one of the previous owners used the eyes and nose of every pictured historical figure as a base for drawing a dick. While Evan can appreciate the effort there, the fact that he has to scramble to cover up his book whenever a teacher passes by his desk does nothing to help his anxiety and he wishes that he could Wite-Out the copious amounts of male genitalia, but that would probably end in him having to pay to replace the textbook and his comfort is not worth a couple hundred dollars.

A tiny scrap of paper flutters out, landing on the sticky hallway floor. Probably another one of the notes Jared has taken to slipping in his lockers between classes. They usually involve dick jokes or sarcastic commentary on Evan’s behavior during their shared chemistry class—because apparently Evan needs to be told how pathetic it was when he dumped watered down hydrochloric acid on his hands and refused to tell the teacher, preferring instead to let his hands tingle uncomfortably until he could wash them after class—or whatever juicy piece of gossip that’s been circulating through the student body. He sighs as he leans over and collects the paper off the floor, bracing himself for a sentence or two on how ridiculous Evan looked when he was startled by a loud noise and nearly dropped his beaker.

Instead, he finds a barely legible phrase scrawled in the messiest chicken scratch Evan has ever seen. The writing looks like it was erased and rewritten about a dozen times, making it seem like whoever penned it wasn’t sure how to phrase what they were trying to say—or whether they should say it at all.

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Mission: Improbable

There are 4 days left until Avengers Assemble season 4!
To celebrate, here’s some fluffy silly stevetony fake dating <3


“You want me to do what?” Steve was certain he must have misheard.

“Date me,” Tony said with a cheeky grin.

Steve felt his cheeks heating. “Well gosh, Tony-”

“Just for one evening!” Tony interrupted. “I’ve got an important mission, and I need you to pretend to be my date.”

To pretend, Steve thought, with a rush of something that could have been relief. Of course. Why else would Tony be asking him on a date?

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Reply to @ladygryphoninia​‘s comment on my post:

So let me get this straight…two weeks without any new Miraculous content? Who even thought of this stupid thing? An educational video explaining copyright and how it works online shared among creators would have been a better idea, though personally why the heck you folks even want to bend

that far just to make a point is beyond me personally. You cannot ERADICATE people abusing content. Deal with it. This is life. This will just be a nice humorous thing for them. But common folks like me will have to suffer for two weeks because of people like that. Just do as it has always been done: report and carry on. And see maybe about that informational idea. There is nothing else to be done about it really. As for participating in this: no thanks.

I’m just gonna tackle this bit by bit, ok?

So let me get this straight…two weeks without any new Miraculous content?

Yup.  Those who are participating are not going to create  any new Miraculous Content.  For more info, feel free to visit @miraculousblackout!  *^_^*

Who even thought of this stupid thing?

Fanartists and Fanfiction writers who were sick and tired of the constant routine of create-discover-report-repeat.  We create things for people to enjoy them, then discover others have stolen our work, report them ruthlessly, and repeat the cycle because we love what we do.  But it would get tiresome after a while, don’t you think?  Ergo, we are making a bit of noise over it with this blackout.

An educational video explaining copyright and how it works online shared among creators would have been a better idea, though personally why the heck you folks even want to bend that far just to make a point is beyond me personally.

You’re right.  An educational video explaining copyright and how it works would be a fantastic idea.  Let me share one with you guys real quick.

This one’s on Copyright and Fair Use, dealing with works that have been copyrighted (in a delightfully entertaining way).

This one’s Copyright Basics, which was animated and kinda cute.

Here’s an entire Crash Course on Copyright!!  It’s a playlist on intellectual property and goes a bit more into detail on the whole copyright thing.  Give it a view when you’ve got the time!

Even Jazza–a noteable YouTube artist and animator–has created his own video on Copyright specifically for the artist like you and me.

You know, it’s almost like people thought this was a good idea, followed through with it, circulated it, and hoped it would educate the masses on copyright, how it works, and how to avoid entanglements with the law.  As for us ‘bending that far to make a point’ is just us taking a stance against those people who wouldn’t bother to search for this information anyways.

You cannot ERADICATE people abusing content.

No, but we can certainly try to lower their numbers through any means necessary.

Deal with it. This is life.

You mean lay down and take this abuse?  I don’t think so.   We have a right to object to this, and the blackout movement is how we are doing so.  People have been driven off because of this, we continue to report, and the fact of life is that when things hit you that you don’t like, you have to do something to change it.  This is us doing something.

This will just be a nice humorous thing for them.

Then they can giggle for two weeks while they get no new material.  Or they can go stir-crazy.  Or they can move on.  Either way, we are getting their attention.  The ones who didn’t know will be educated.  The ones who giggle can’t claim ignorance.  Ergo, we will have no mercy on their accounts when this is done and if they get right back to it.

But common folks like me will have to suffer for two weeks because of people like that.

*deep sighs*

Okay.  Correct me if I’m wrong, but this seems almost as conceited as the people who are ripping off artwork.  You talk like you have every right to the content we produce and are therefore angry when we choose to go on a strike for two weeks because you are owed our artwork.  We will be back, and you always have the option to create works yourself in the meantime (seriously.  Even if you think you’re just ‘common folk’, you guys are capable of more than you realize), but while we do this, please keep in mind our reasons for doing so.  We are being robbed of art and this is an issue we need to make noise about and make people aware of.

Just do as it has always been done: report and carry on.

We have been.  It hasn’t been working.  We’re trying something new.

And see maybe about that informational idea. There is nothing else to be done about it really.

We can look at it, it’s a good idea to inform people while we do this, but we’re not abandoning ship.  Laying down and taking their reposting shenanigans without doing anything to stop it just doesn’t make any sense to me.

As for participating in this: no thanks.

Ok.  It’s not required for everyone to participate, but there are those of us who are.  We will be back on the 15th.

blazing arrows [jimin feat. jungkookie]

❝The majority calls me Cupid, but, you can call me Jimin—I believe I owe you some debts for a mistake now long overdue.❞

⌲ genre: fluff, angst, future smut, & supernatural, au.

⌲ member: jimin feat. jungkookie

⌲ word count: 4891

⌲ warnings: future mature content & shit tons of swearing.

↠ description: Stuck in what seemed to be an unrequited relationship with Jeon Jungkook who just so happens to be in committed relationship with someone else as well, your heart was fragmented beyond any repair. So what exactly happens when you wake up at 3 in the morning to find the culprit of your hellish misery, nonchalantly counting his gold-tipped arrows on the foot of your bed—wings outstretched and all?

part one | part two | ongoing

External image

“Has your mouth become dysfunctional from all the day-to-day shit you’ve been spewing or something? Because frankly speaking, loser, seaweed mustache does not really suit you—most especially if your heading to your girlfriend’s place in less than an hour.”

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Rumors

Originally posted by jengkook

Word count: 1820

Warnings: ANGST

Author’s note: I feel like I got a lot to say right now. Sorry about that in advance.

First of all this scenario is inspired by K.A.R.D.’s “Rumor”. At first I didn’t liked that song but I started liking it eventually. And damn this photoshoot gets me everytime. Also I don’t have the feeling I wrote a good Jimin story yet so I hope this will be poppin.

Second thing: I guess you noticed that I am repeating the members now. I mostly pick who I think would fit the role but there hasn’t really been any request regarding a certain group/member. Just to let you know that I am open for any suggestion! If not then I am willing to continue my own comeups ;)

For the third and last thing I just reached 400 followers!! ♥♥♥ For that I wanted to welcome every new companion and of course thank you all :D It is overwhelming to me how this blog grew out of nothing :) I will continue as long as you guys like me to ;) But now we will get going!

Check out my masterlist ;)

Most recent release: Second chances


rumor

/ˈrumər/

Definitions: noun; A currently circulating story or report of uncertain or doubtful truth usually spread by word of mouth.

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The Sedative with A Seducing Side-Affect

Request: “Hello bean! Can I request a Kylo thing where reader is a First Order medic? Maybe Kylo is injured during one of his missions and she has to visit his private living quarters to patch him up. Bonus points if she tries to remain professional with a sedated, out of his mind shirtless Commander Ren flirting with her.”

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: mentions of needles and blood

“Why does it have to be me?” You whined for the third time. Your supervisor only continued to push you out the door, his forehead permanently wrinkled from receiving all your complaints.

“Because,” he huffed as you finally made it to the exit of the med bay, “you’re the only one who isn’t afraid of him.”

“But Kirylla does his checks ups, doesn’t she?” You couldn’t help but be insistent on not being the one to tend to the Commander. The last time you had, it had ended with you accidentally giving him the wrong medication in your flustered state. Having been his usual doctor for an entire year, you decided to hand over the task to a younger nurse who needed more training.

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taylor swift vs. the public eye: signs of emotional abuse

i’m posting this as a continuation of this post. here are some signs of an emotionally abusive relationship and how they relate to what taylor has gone through since a very young age. my hope is that after reading this, more people will understand that this is a potential reason for taylor wishing to step back from the spotlight. whether she chooses to continue evading the media or not, i think it’s crucial that we remain understanding and supportive. 

  • put you on an emotional roller-coaster: one day she’s loved, the next she’s hated. it’s pretty unpredictable. it’s got to be draining. it’s got to be confusing. and we know from past interviews that taylor is very hard on herself and a pretty anxious person in general. she seems to be handling things better than ever, but after supporting her for eleven years i have to say i doubt that she’s ever gonna not be hard on herself to some degree. 
  • humiliating or embarrassing you: the taylor swift is over party on twitter, images of her accidentally flashing her underwear at a concert circulating the internet, private details of her personal life being leaked and ridiculed by strangers (some even doing it for profit), people ridiculing everything she does down to how "dramatic” her facial expressions are, even in her most joyful moments, people trying to make fun of her for dancing freely and enjoying herself, the award ceremony incident with that guy i don’t even care to mention. i could honestly go on and on.
  • constant put downs: rude commentary has been made about her boobs, weight, hair style, outfits, butt, voice, face, nose, eyes, etc. as well as her personality. she’s constantly made out to be “playing the victim” even though she is one in many ways and writes songs like they’re diary entries (from her point of view – what, is she supposed to write them from everyone else’s all the time?). there’s also that whole “don’t date her!!!” thing that’s circulated for years, even when she was a teenager.
  • hyper-criticism: do i even need to expand on this? if taylor so much as breathes the wrong way, there’s hundreds of articles posted about her within twenty minutes. she makes a mistake and regardless of whether or not she apologizes, she’s crucified for it. people do realize she’s like… a human being who’s still learning like the rest of us, right? even the things she does for the good of others get mocked and knocked down, usually by pure speculation and biased, generalized dislike for her. 
  • “if you don’t ___, i will ____,” threats: this is one that i see all the time, especially lately. people basically tell her she HAS to do something or she’s automatically terrible. she HAS to show up to this protest. she HAS to tweet this. she HAS to talk about her political views. she HAS to or she MUST be a nazi/racist/etc. it’s extremely all or nothing and while i’d of course love to see taylor speak out about certain instances due to the large audience she’d reach, this kind of pressure – the kind where people are basically trying to force someone to prove themselves to them by doing something they’d like them to, is unfair.
  • gaslighting/influence of self-doubt: taylor’s been in the spotlight for years now and throughout this time has likely been subjected to an incredible amount of rumors. she’s boy crazy. she’s playing the victim. she’s not really that happy/surprised. all of these things and more have been said. some digs have likely been a bit easier to shake off, like false pregnancy rumors she knew weren’t true, etc. but things taking a dig at fundamental aspects of her personality and her personal experiences? that could have really messed with her head. especially considering they’ve been said throughout the time her brain has been developing and her perception of the word was most vulnerable. 

obviously, i’m not in taylor’s head so i don’t know for sure at what level these things things have impacted her. i’m not a psychic and i’m not yet a licensed psychologist. the experiences i referenced above are all credible, but my take on how they could have impacted her is hypothetical. i just want to make it clear that  i’m supportive of whatever she decides to do in order to be happy. i understand and will stick by her side without criticism. i hope you will too.

Male Feminists and Milkshake Ducks

If the story was that Nick Robinson, creator of That Youtube Content About Video Games That You Like, employee of That Progressive Games Media Outlet, was being a dirtbag to women, I would be angry at him and sad about yet-a-fucking-nother story of men mistreating women with the expectation that they will suffer no negative consequences for their behaviour. That is not the story. The story is that Nick Robinson has a well-established reputation for being a dirtbag to women among a group of people that includes more than just the women he has been a dirtbag to, but until recently did not include his audience or, as far as I can tell, the people who work closely with him on a regular basis.
I am of course still angry at Nick and sad about the way that so many men mistreat so many women, and just as friends of Nick have stated on twitter I think it is unacceptable that the online community around video games continues to be so bitterly hostile towards women. To be absolutely clear on that point, I have no issue with any of the people who have personally had to put up with Nick’s bullshit and have not made public accusations against him. I would certainly not volunteer to be the next Zoe Quinn or Anita Sarkeesian, and I would never ask anyone to put themselves in the way of even one tenth of a percent of the treatment that those two received.
I had a very strong emotional reaction to this news, and it’s taken me a couple of days to figure out that it’s not just because I thought Car Boys was really good. It is of course disappointing to learn that a creator you respect is probably a bad person, but it is quite something else to learn that a community of people you respect have known for a while that one of their member is probably a bad person and have seemingly done nothing about it.
The news didn’t even come to light because of Nick being a dirtbag to women! The whole thing blew up after a side-barb was thrown in a twitter argument about a completely separate issue. Someone who was annoyed at Nick about something else entirely decided to stick it to him by posting words to the effect of “Yeah, well, everyone knows you treat women terribly.” Of course, everyone did NOT know this, but the cat was out of the bag, and the immediate reactions to the tweet made it clear very quickly that this was not a baseless accusation.
A lot of people in games media commented about the news on twitter, in ways that one might expect: condemning Nick’s actions, calling for a better attitude towards women in gaming spaces, admonishing the skeptic trolls demanding receipts for abuse. Austin Walker went off on “soft boy” culture, railing against performative vulnerability and “using softness as an alibi”. HBomberguy acknowledged that stories of Nick’s behaviour had been circulating privately for a while, and pointed to a seemingly out-of-proportion reaction to a crass joke Nick had tweeted several months previously as an indication of how many people were aware of his reputation.
It is the response from Nick Robinson’s male peers in the games media space that makes the revelation of his behaviour all the more unpleasant to me. I do not disagree with any of their statements on the matter, nor would I accuse any of them individually of hypocrisy, but as a group I feel like they are absolving themselves of complicity rather than taking responsibility for a serious problem among their colleagues.
They have said that it is wrong to pressure people to make private allegations into public ones, and that it is not their place to “come forward with someone else’s story if they clearly didn’t want it out there”, and they are right on both counts. The issue I have is that women did come forward to these men, and did share their stories about Nick Robinson, and the men who heard those stories engaged in exactly the sort of behaviour that they condemn in “soft boys”: they listened, they frowned, they said things like “God, what an asshole! I’ll never work with him again. Men are such scum”, they let the unsaid assumption that they would never do something like that be implied by their condemnations, they promised to keep the information secret, and they proceeded to do nothing until some side beef on social media stirred the issue to the surface.
People who work in digital media lead very public lives thanks to the bizarre demands of modern social media, and so their personal disputes and dramas are often shared with an audience of tens or hundreds of thousands. In this context, and in the climate of internet vigilantism that has become prevalent since GamerGate, I understand why none of these men wanted to say anything publicly about what they knew about Nick. Perhaps from the outside I am missing some key detail but it seems fairly clear that there are things they could have done, and did not do, that might have prevented a pattern of abusive behaviour that they knew to be ongoing, without risk of becoming the person who ruined [website’s] relationship with [website].
I am assuming that these men did nothing because some of them have said as much, and because of the reaction of shock and anger from Nick’s closest colleagues. At any point during the months that these allegations were circling in private, any one of the Good Video Games Male Feminists who had been a supportive friend and good listener to a woman on the receiving end of Nick’s sleazy messages could have, for example, reached out to Matt Kessler, or Ben Pack, or Griffin McElroy, without airing any private stories or ruining any professional relationships, and told them to talk to their boy.
If you hear that someone on the other side of the world who you’ve never met is a sex pest, you probably shouldn’t try to do anything about it. We have all seen enough internet hate mobs to learn that lesson. If you hear that one of your peers, someone you interact with regularly and share platforms with, someone that you have a professional association with, is a sex pest, you absolutely should try to do something about it. That is the time when just being a good ally and a good listener isn’t enough. If you are part of a peer group you have the power to influence what behaviour is and is not accepted in that peer group. Making general statements about wanting a better place for women in games will not achieve any change if the same people making those statements are content to silently ignore a man who is actively making games a worse place for women.
This is the real challenge for male feminists in the 21st century. It is not enough to just be the change you want to see in the world, it is not enough to be a supportive ally. Men need to work to alter the attitudes of other men in male-dominated spaces. I absolutely believe that in this case there was an opportunity for action somewhere between the extremes of publicly airing private stories and silent condemnation, and I am deeply disappointed that none of the men I respect who are peers of Nick Robinson took such action.

years & years (2) - m.dl.c x reader // j.a x reader

Summary: junior year sets in motion a chain of events that changes the lives of liberty high students, forever.
Warnings: mentions of a car crash, mentions of suicide, attempted suicide, blood, scars.
A/N: so this turned out longer than i intended so that’s why i ended it where i did. should i continue it or leave it as it is? anyway, this isn’t edited or anything, so i hope it’s okay!

**
you’re sixteen, and the first party of your junior year is the catalyst for the end of the world as you knew it. a beer run goes wrong when a car doesn’t stop where it’s supposed to, ramming straight into the car you’re travelling in with jeff. around your feet are glass bottles that shatter upon impact, cutting through your cheap canvas runners and digging in to your skin. you don’t feel it, though, because the jolt of the car sends you forward sharply, your forehead meeting the dashboard with a thunk. it knocks you out, for a few minutes, and when you come around, there’s a far worse pain waiting in the seat beside you.

a week in hospital helps the cuts on your ankles and feet scab over and heal, but no amount of time could even begin to touch the edges of the hole in your chest, in the wake of jeff’s death. the paramedics called it immediately upon arriving at the scene, your screams echoing down the street filled with passersby and flashing lights. clay had found the wreck, and you can’t erase the wretched cries he’d let out, begging jeff to hold on. the funeral is, of course, a large affair - it seems almost the entire school turns out to bid farewell to the best baseball player the town had the honour of having. in your black jeans, black shirt, black jacket, all you can focus on is the warmth of mrs. atkin’s hand in yours, gripping it tight. the students stare, pity in their gaze, unsure words of condolences whispered hurriedly as they pass you by. it only makes you feel worse.

back in school, however, another shocking blow lands only days after returning to liberty high’s hallways - hannah baker takes her own life, and leaves behind a world of pain and mystery. as if you couldn’t be more unbalanced, it feels as though the entire world has spun off it’s axis, disturbing the gravity, making it impossible to ground yourself. unlike jeff’s funeral, hannah’s is private, family only. clay is a hollow shell of the boy you grew up knowing, having lost a best friend and his crush in less than a month. when a group of jocks pass you by, clad in varsity jackets exactly like the one hanging in your wardrobe at home, the pressure hits breaking point, and you find yourself sobbing viciously beneath the bleachers outside - with no memory of how you got there. after what could be hours or simply minutes, a strong arm pulls you into a solid, warm chest, cradling you while the sobs wrack your entire body. montgomery de la cruz, a boy you haven’t spoken to in over a year, says nothing, does nothing, except hold you while you cry. for the first time since that awful night, you don’t feel so alone anymore.

**

after that day under the bleachers, montgomery is sure to check in with you a few times a day. the conversation never stretches beyond quick greetings, but you know that if you need someone, he’ll be there - and that’s what you need. unbeknownst to the both of you, a series of tapes is circulating a group of people you both know, left by hannah before her death. everyone begins to act strange; clay is distant and even more lost than usual, sheri can’t seem to meet your eyes anymore, alex wanders around the hallway like a dark cloud, ominous, foreboding. he purposefully picks fights with montgomery - you don’t know the reason why, nor does montgomery, but alex does. when you try to speak the bleach blond boy, he seems to be just out of your reach, like everything else, these days. even tony, your lifelong best friend is never around. jessica davis takes on the part of hedonist, drinking through school and skipping out on cheer practice. she makes scenes in public with justin and then storms off - and justin is just as far away as everybody else. like the earlier analogy of the world spinning off it’s axis, it screws with the entire system. you’re no longer in each others orbits, all communications systems failing.

the third blow hits you before that same month is up. a text message goes unseen for almost half an hour, and it’s long enough for it to be too late. the message has you sprinting barefoot across town, wearing only pyjama shorts and a tank top, headed for alex standall’s house. the blood reminds you of jeff’s body in the car, and you can barely hold back the screaming long enough to call an ambulance. it’s a long night, sitting in silence side by side with alex’s father. the man’s face is expressionless, but his eyes shine with tears he refuses to let fall. at some point, when the waiting and agonising fear becomes too much, you let your hand land on his. after a few seconds, he responds with a grateful squeeze, blinking hard. your throat is burning from the screaming, raw and painful, your bare feet like blocks of ice on the linoleum floor. the night passes.

**

it’s a relief to get to school on monday and realise that news of alex’s … indiscretion hasn’t yet made the rounds, but it’s not too long before it reaches the hallways. clay stops you before class to ask if you’re okay.

‘are you?’

his expression tells you all that needs saying, and you’re sure your own does, too. you let him talk to you into meeting at monet’s after school. home is too suffocating - with jeff, and hannah baker, and now alex, your parents have taken to hovering, constantly, around you. it’s sweet, and you appreciate the concern, but it doesn’t help the feeling that you don’t know how to breathe anymore. sitting around a back table with tony and clay is the most normal thing you’ve done in weeks. clay is as nervous and awkward as always, tony providing a steady contrast, confident and sure, but there’s a difference to the two of them you can’t quite explain. skye brings your drinks down; coffee for you and clay, hot chocolate for tony.

‘is it true about alex standall?’ the tattooed barista wants to know. clay spares you a glance, before nodding. skye scoffs and rolls her lined eyes. 'one girl offs herself and the rest follow like dominoes,’ she says, voice dripping with disgust. 'still, we see who the real attention seekers are, right?’

neither clay nor tony answer her; looking at each other, a silent conversation. you, however, look up at the blonde, and, rather quietly, ask her,

'can you shut the fuck up?’

she blinks. 'what? you weren’t even friends with hannah.’ 'no. but i am friends with alex. don’t be so ignorant.’

her eyes flash with indignation. 'i’m being honest, not ignorant.’
'no, you’re being disrespectful.’ underneath the table, your fists clench. 'look, i know that you’re hurting over jeff, so i-’

your head snaps up. you can barely hear yourself talking over the blood rushing through your ears. 'what did you just say?’

clay decides to step in. 'skye, maybe you should just drop it,’ his voice is low. the barista rolls her eyes again, and if she does it one more time-
'i’ll be at the counter if you need anything.’ she leaves. tony leans over to speak to you, but his words fall flat and unheard. standing up abruptly, you reach into your backpack for your wallet.

'c'mon, don’t go,’ clay pleads, tony noting the shake in your hands as you fumble for a few dollar bills. 'i can pay,’ the boy offers, concerned. you shake your head, dropping the notes on the counter. 'i’ll see you in school tomorrow,’ you mutter, gripping your bag in both hands and rushing out of café as fast as you could. speed-walking down the street, you breathe in and out slow, trying to calm your pounding heart, and the rage like a fire burning through your veins. skye’s words echo in your head - attention-seekers, attention-seekers - blinded by your emotion, you collide with a hard body, the two of you snapping 'watch it!’ in unison.

it’s montgomery, and when he sees it’s you, the tense set of his broad shoulders relax. 'oh, hey. are you okay?’ as his eyes search your face, you find yourself breaking. stepping closer to him, in an effort to keep your voice at a normal volume, you admit, 'i get it now. i get you now. i never understood… you’ve been so angry, for so long, and i never got it. but… but i get it now. i’m so mad, monty. i’m so mad, all the time, and i - i don’t want to - i can’t - i don’t know what to do.’

his entire face softens, his features kinder than you’ve ever seen them. after taking a moment to register your words, he swallows, and then reaches for your elbow.

'come with me.’

'where?’

as he begins to urge you forward, all he says is, 'just come with me.’ so you do. you follow where he leads, his hand an anchor to reality. as you walk with him to god-knows-where, you realise there’s only one thing you’re certain of.

montgomery de la cruz could walk you off the edge of the earth, and you’d follow, without hesitation.

Blind Rage; Pure Love // Im Jaebum

Originally posted by thekpopfix

Pairing: Jaebum x Reader

Genre: Angst, smut, fluff

Summary: Jaebum gets excessively angry at you and hurts you unknowingly.

A/N: PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS SCENARIO CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE AND BLOOD. This literally broke my heart to write because I could never imagine Jaebum doing this to someone he loved ;=; But I hope that you will think it is enjoyable none the less.



They say that people do crazy things when they’re in love, and you never knew what that meant until things began turning sour in your relationship with Jaebum.

You had been dating him for god knows how long now, and you still loved each just as much as you did back then, if not even more so. But you were beginning to wonder if it was that love that was starting to cause cracks in your relationship?

Jaebum was a jealous, overprotective boyfriend – and you didn’t mind this at all. More than often, you found him adorable when he got jealous, always making sure to reassure him of your love and adoration for him and never leaving him to feel otherwise. And you would be lying if you said that you didn’t get jealous or overprotective of him either – what with his thousands upon thousands of fans who loved him. But much like you did for Jaebum, he only had eyes for you.

Keep reading

Welp. @watchmestaand inspired an angsty fic. Whoops.
•••
Jack was known for over thinking, especially when Crutchie was sick. He’d panic the second the boy got a fever, but it was always gone in a few days. He was always fine.

That’s what Jack kept telling himself as he watched the fever climb higher and higher, and Crutchie slip more and more out of it.

He was gonna be okay. He always was.

“Hey, Kelly! Where’s your shadow? Leg still got him down?”

Jack took his papers and glared at Oscar. “Shut up.”

“Oh, I made him mad,” Oscar chuckled. “It ain’t my fault you’re so dependent on some dumb cr-”

And that’s how Jack managed to get in a fight before even being awake for an hour. He left with a black eye, but he’d argue that he hurt Oscar worse.

Selling without Crutchie felt wrong somehow. He didn’t sell with Crutchie everyday, but still. Not even having him come up every once in awhile and brag that he’d already sold ten of his papes was just strange.

Jack normally sold with a partner, even if it wasn’t Crutchie, but lately, he’d been selling alone. The other guys offered, but he refused. He probably got more pity this way, anyway. With the lack of sleep and the shiner, Jack looked a mess, which meant more money.

Going back to the lodging house was never fun, but Jack always made a beeline over. He rarely went up on the roof anymore, since he spent every second by Crutchie’s side as he slipped in and out of consciousness, holding his hand the whole time.

“…Jack?” Crutchie’s eyes fluttered half-open every now and again.

Jack always got hopeful. “How you feelin’, kid?”

“Mm…” Crutchie’s eyes always closed again. “Think ‘m sick.”

Jack sighed and rubbed circles on Crutchie’s palm with his thumb. “Yeah, you are.”

Sometimes, Crutchie asked if he’d get better soon, and Jack never knew how to respond. But, most of the time, he just fell back into a feverish sleep.

No one could stand to see Jack like this. He only got a few hours of sleep each night, if he was lucky. He was uncharacteristically quiet. It was uncomfortable for everyone.

“You’re wearing it wrong.”

Jack turned to see Katherine standing in the doorway. “What?”

Katherine smiled softly at the brown hat on Jack’s head. “You’ve got it on the wrong way.” She flipped the hat backwards and rested her hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“Whoops, you’re right,” Jack smirked. “Crutchie hates it when people turn his hat forwards. He says it feels better backwards.”

Katherine bit her lip. “Take a break, Jack.”

Jack looked at her as if she’d just spoken a foreign language. “Ace, I-”

“Take. A. Break.” She repeated. “Go draw, do something that makes you happy.”

“Being with Crutchie makes me happy,” Jack argued. “I can’t leave him.”

“I’ll stay with him tonight.” Katherine said, pulling up a chair next to Jack’s. “You need some rest.”

“So do you.” Jack replied half-heartedly.

“I don’t have papers to sell tomorrow at the crack of dawn,” Katherine shot back. “Come on, Jack.”

Jack sighed. “Not all night. I’ll just…take a walk or somethin’.”

Katherine echoed his sigh. “Fine. I’ll stay with him, okay?”

“Fine.” Jack squeezed Crutchie’s hand one more time before reluctantly leaving. He hurried down the stairs and looked around. He had a nice amount of money, he realized as he stuck his hand in his pocket filled with a few coins. All those pity sales. He thought. Maybe I’ll treat myself.

•••

Now, Katherine was getting worried. Jack said he was just going on a walk, but it’d been at least a couple hours. As much as she wanted Jack to rest, she also didn’t want him doing anything stupid.

“Hey, Racetrack?” Katherine looked over at the boy in the bunk across from Crutchie’s. “Can you take over Crutchie duty for a second? I’ve got to make sure Jack isn’t being an idiot.”

“I don’t think we’re talkin’ about the same Jack,” Race smirked. “The one I know is always an idiot.”

Katherine let herself chuckle. “Go easy on him right now.”

“I can watch him, no problem.” Race said, taking Katherine’s chair as his own.

“No smoking,” Katherine said before she left. “He’s coughing enough on his own.”

With that, she left on her pursuit of Jack, but he didn’t take long to find. The second she stepped out of the Lodging House, she saw a figure sat right by the door, slumped over.

Katherine frowned. “Jack?”

Jack jumped and straightened up slightly. “Katherine? There some…news on Crutchie?”

Katherine kneeled next to him, crinkling her nose at the stench of alcohol. “Jack, what have you been doing?”

“Relaxin’, jus’ like ya told me to,” Jack sighed. “It ain’t workin’.”

Katherine rolled her eyes. “I didn’t tell you to go out and get drunk, I told you to get some rest.”

“An’ maybe I needed a lil help gettin’ the rest, huh?” Jack replied, swaying. “I was sleepin’ ‘fore you came here, you stopped me from-from restin’.”

Katherine pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jack. You’re a mess.”

“Thanks.” Jack stuck out his tongue at her.

“I mean it, Jack,” Katherine was clearly holding back anger. “Look at yourself. You’re sitting out here with a black eye and reeking of alcohol. This isn’t going to help Crutchie at all.”

“Well, yeah, no joke,” Jack grumbled. “This is how my dad ended up when-when my ma got sick, right? An’ Snyder always told me I’m gonna be a deadbeat jus’ like my father.” He took another swig from the bottle sitting next to him. “I’m jus’…I’m jus’ carryin’ on the family legacy.”

“Jack.” Katherine’s voice was sharp. “The last time you lost Crutchie, you shut down the news circulation for the entire-”

“The las’ time I lost Crutchie, I sold out my brothers and nearly bailed on all you’se to go to Santa Fe,” Jack cut in, trying to make eye contact with Katherine but not being able to focus. “You, you’re the one who wrote that paper, huh? Snyder-Snyder, he was right about me, so’s the damn Delancey’s.”

“Jack, Snyder was a sick and twisted man who knows how to dig into your worst insecurities.” Katherine said.

“If I can’t help Crutchie, if he don’t make it…” Jack trailed off and buried his head in his hands.

“If Crutchie doesn’t make it, he’s going to need you there, 100%.” Katherine retorted. “But, he wouldn’t give up on you this easy. So why are you giving up on him?”

“I don’t…I don’t know, Kath,” Jack groaned. She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.

“Crutchie would want you to take care of yourself.” Katherine said. “Do you know what he’d say if he saw you like this?”

“He’d probably be real upset.” Jack mumbled.

“He’d give you a hug, say he’s there for you, then punch you in the arm and tell you to pull yourself together.” Katherine replied. “So, that’s what I’m doing.”

With that, Katherine pulled Jack into a hug, which ended up being mostly one-sided as Jack just fell onto Katherine’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be alone, Jack,” She whispered. “We all want to help you through this. We’re all devastated too.”

Jack nodded. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” She took his hands and helped him stand up slowly. Then, she punched his arm playfully, throwing him off balance. “Now, come on. You can spend the night at my house and clean up tomorrow.”

“I don’ wan’ your dad to see me like this,” Jack pouted. “He hates me enough. He’ll fire me.”

“Lucky for you, he’s on a business trip,” Katherine smirked. She put her arm around Jack. “Let’s get you to bed or you’ll hate yourself tomorrow.”

“I already hate m’self,” Jack slurred grouchily. “But fine. For Crutchie.”

“That’s the spirit,” Katherine chuckled. “You guys are gonna be okay.”

Jack bit his lip. “For sure?”

Katherine nodded. “For sure.”

Stroke of Midnight- Chapter 4 (Pennywise x reader)

Stanley Uris’s kippah went sailing through the window of a passing school bus like a frisbee.

“Guys? Really?” You put your hands on your hips, shaking your head as Patrick and Vic cackled like a pair of hyenas.

Stanly got to his feet, dusting the dirt off his pants. Vic pushed him towards your group. Bill had just gotten over being sick, so your aunt had asked you to pick up him and Georgie after school for a couple of days instead of letting them ride their bikes so that Bill wouldn’t over exert himself. Luckily Mrs. Stout had let you leave work for a little while.

“You guys are sad, you know that?” you shot at the Bowers Gang.

Patrick mimicked crying and wiping away a tear. “So sad,” he said mockingly. Vic laughed and Belch gave the response that had earned him the only name you knew him by.

Henry Bowers, the leader of this gang of pathetic miscreants, pointed a finger at you menacingly. “Why don’t you shut your face, bookworm, before I have to add a matching mark to your other cheek?”

Your face grew hot from anger and embarrassment. Your cheek was still tender from when the man in the alley had hit you the night before. The dead man, you thought. You could still see Pennywise’s large form standing out in the dark like a pale ghost, holding your attacker up as if he weighed nothing.

You glanced to the right and saw Georgie come out of the school. You shot a nervous glance back at Henry. There was no way your little cousin was going to bypass this group of trolls. As Georgie got closer, you tried motioning at him to go around to the right. He noticed, but to your horror, so did Patrick. A sadistic grin lit up his face. 

“Aww. It’s the little shrimp.” He dubbed his thumb towards Georgie and started side stepping towards him.

You stepped forward, but Bowers got in front of you. For the second time in two days, your path was blocked by some menacing goon. You bit your bottom lip. Henry was a head taller than you and even though he was pretty scrawny, you knew he could still hurt you. Patrick was moving back and forth in front of Georgie, taunting him. Every way Georgie would go, Patrick would go that way. Patrick laughed.

“Bill,” Georgie called out weakly.

“P-Patrick, leave h-him alone,” Bill hollered.

You were seething. You glared at Henry and then your eyes flickered to the two cops that were standing across the street behind him. You smirked when you recognized one of them.

“You really want to keep making a scene in front of Daddy?” you whispered. “By the look on his face, he doesn’t look too pleased.”

Henry’s eyes grew wide as his face took on a crazed, murderous look. Jeez, there is something seriously wrong with this kid, you thought. But you didn’t dare let him see the unease that was building within you. Instead you raised your eyebrows at him, daring him to continue his little charade.

“Patrick!”

Patrick twisted around to face you and Bowers and Georgie scampered past him to safety. Bowers got in your face and jabbed a finger at you. “This isn’t over,” he whispered heatedly.

Bowers stalked off and the rest of his goons followed. Bill and his friends crowded around you. You jumped when you felt a thump on your back.

“Ho-ly shit, that was great!” Richie clapped you on the back again. “I mean, you just stood there right in his face.” He held his hand up in the air, fingers bent forward to emphasize how close you had come to danger. “I would have died.”

“Yeah, like fucking literally,” Eddie Kaspbrak added.

“Hey! We’re still at school,” You scolded.

“Yeah, we’re still at school,” Richie whispered in Eddie’s face. Eddie pushed him.

The boys said their good-byes and while the others got on their bikes, you and your cousins headed to your car, which was parked in front of the other end of school.

“Are y-you going to be d-driving us tomorrow?” Bill asked.

“Nah.” You unlocked your door. “I think your mom just wanted me to do it for a couple of days. You should be ok. Your cough is almost go-” You glanced up and froze.  Floating towards you, from across the road, was a single red balloon. You watched its slow approach, then glanced around nervously.

Georgie looked up at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, sweetheart.” You unlocked the back door and the boys climbed inside. A car passed, causing the balloon to swirl around in the air. You opened your own door and went to climb in, but decided to take one more peek.

And wished you hadn’t.

The balloon was gone. But there was something else. Someone else. Standing in a small copse of trees right across the street.

Pennywise.

You felt your body lock in place. He just stood there, his intense, predatory eyes slanted slightly downward, staring at you. Devouring you. His puffy, cherry red lips hung slightly open. You started trembling. You couldn’t look away. You wanted to, only you didn’t want to. You wanted to go to him. You wanted-

Another school bus passed. And then he was gone.

******

You went about your daily routine. People talked about the man who had been murdered and of course you would act shocked. No one could ever know the truth, and there was no way they would even believe you. The next day passed. Still no Pennywise. No sightings, no gifts, even your nights were beginning to feel empty and mundane.

Friday came. The last day of school. The day had been pretty quiet at work. By afternoon a boy came in asking for books about the history of Derry. He seemed like a quiet boy, with a round, friendly face. You found a few books for him, then got him settled at a table.

“It’s a pretty day today,” you told him. “The last day of school. Wouldn’t you rather be out with friends?”

The boy glanced out the window. “I like it in here.”

You smiled at him. “Me too. Well if you need any help, just ask.”

You went back to the circulation desk and grabbed the drawing that you had started working on after lunch. It was in pencil and was more of just an idle doodle.  You traced his lips you’re your fingers. Those lips that you couldn’t get out of your mind. And those wild, intense, yellow eyes. You sighed and set it down.

You walked past the steps that led to the storage room and heard something that sounded like a holler coming from that direction. You went to investigate and were halfway down the stairs when the boy that had requested the Derry books came running up them as if something was chasing him. He slowed down when he got to you and the two of you just looked at each other, not saying anything as he walked past. What had caused him to run like that? Or even better… who? You descended the rest of the stairs. The light in the large room was dim. Long shelves full of archives, old equipment, and other things ran parallel to her. You started walking down the center aisle.

“I know you’re here,” you called. You turned slowly, all your senses on high alert. “No one else could have scared that boy like that.”

You heard a creaking sound off to your right and froze. Your heart started pounding. Did you really want to be down here alone with him? “Please, I know your there. I need to know you’re there. I know that I’m not losing my mind.” You started glancing around frantically. “I need to know that you are real. I need to see you, I need to feel…” You brought your hands up to your face and closed your eyes. A cacophony of feelings raged through you, each one fighting to take precedence: fear, anxiousness, and in the deepest part of you, something else that you were afraid to label. You heard movement behind you, close behind you. Every muscle in your body seemed to lock in place.

“Pretty little princess, don’t be afraid.”

Your eyes flew open. You’d know that voice anywhere—that soft, silky, squeaky voice.

“Pennywise has come to make your day.”

When you felt his hand on your neck, you squealed and jumped sideways so hard that your back hit one of the shelves. You heard something clatter to the floor on the other side.

You had never seen him this close before. He towered over you. Three furry orange balls went down the center of his chest. Your head reached the middle one.  His buck teeth shown prominently through his cherry red lips that were lit up into a grin so big his face could have split along the single red lines that curved from his lips and up along his face.

He leaned in towards you. “Did the little princess jump?” He giggled.

“Y-you startled me,” you stammered.

He frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

You highly doubted that.

He leaned in closer. “Are you afraid of me?”

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times. You weren’t sure how to answer him. “I g-guess I am a little.” You were starting to sound like Bill. He reached out and barely grazed your cheek with a gloved finger causing you to flinch slightly.

“I’m not going to hurt you, little one. But I know you’ve been missing me. So I’ve come to give you what you want.”

“And how do you know what I want?” you said a little too loudly.

“Oh I know everything, my dear.” He rubbed his thumb along your chin. His face was so close and his breath smelled super sweet, like cotton candy. “I know you lie awake at night, haunted by your fears…” He tilted his head sideways at you and brought his thumb up to rub along your bottom lip. You whimpered as a shiver ran through your body, one that had nothing to do with fear. “And your desires.” He said that last word slowly. You yanked your head back to break the contact and the clown chuckled. “Look how easy you come undone by my touch.”

“I did not ask you to touch me!”

He chuckled again. “But isn’t that what you wanted to do to me?” He shook his head at you, causing his bells to jingle. “To see that I’m real. To…” He reached out like he was going to poke your nose, but then stopped just inches away. You stared at his hand. “…touch me.” He lowered his hand and leaned down to you again. “Go ahead, kit-ten. There’s no one here. Do it…Touch me.”

Your heart was beating erratically. You glanced at his chest. You slowly reached out and rested your hand on it. You had thought his costume would feel course, but it was kind of satiny, like a parachute. You ran your hand up a little farther. Pennywise leaned in closer to you, his brow furrowed. You tilted your chin up as he passed his nose inches from your hair. You heard him inhale, as though he was smelling you. You closed your eyes. You felt his nose graze your temple and felt a warmth spread through your belly as you felt his hand slowly snake around your back. Your breath was now coming out in short bursts. He started rubbing your back.

“Y/N!”

Your eyes snapped open. You glanced up at Pennywise. “Shit, I’ve been gone too long!” You pushed passed him and ran to the stairs. “I’m in here,” you called up to Mrs. Stout. 

“Well I was wondering where you had gone,” the librarian replied. She appeared at the top of the stairs. “Everything alright? Your face looks flushed.”

“I’m alright. I just…got overheated.”

“Well go splash some water on your face. No need for you to be passing out, especially not down there.” Mrs. Stout left.

You turned around, but Pennywise was gone, leaving you more confused than ever. There was no denying it now—you were definitely attracted to him. You had to see him again, as frightened as you were by your feelings. Just being around him was intoxicatingly. But was he dangerous? Was he a danger to you? You needed to find out.


@destiel-lover321  @hello-helianthus

Get Away Fic

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Words: 2573

Prompt: I HAS ANOTHER REQUEST ~ where it’s after the Draco had finished Hogwarts and now a young adult, and he goes to the muggle world influence and forced to by someone idk and he meets the reader ~ who is muggle and bam, idk

Warnings: Slight swearing

Requested: Yes, by @tacocheeks

A/N: ahhHHH I’m sorry, guys. I forgot to post yesterday, I had everything set up and…*insert dumb brain noise*. But without further a-due - I give you my next piece. Hope you all enjoy it. Let me know what you think *kisses and hugs* 

On a slightly less happy note, I’m really glad that you all enjoy my writings and want part two’s and three’s, but it’s not really motivating when I see messages like ‘YES! DO IT’ or ‘DO IT NOW’ it’s really discouraging so see that I’m not being asked, but demanded that I do this. I mean, yes, I’m going to write these stories, but it’s not going to be done well. So if you guys want to see part two’s and three’s, could you please try something like ‘yes please’ or ‘that out be wonderful to see’ or something.

Sorry that I’m going on about this, it’s just been getting to me a little and I wanted to get it off my chest. Sorry, I’ll go now and let you (hopefully) enjoy this new story.




Talking to Harry Potter had become something that just happened to Draco Malfoy after the war. It was like, talking to someone who was in the eye of the storm at the same time. Seeing the damage around you, but not being effected by it.

Of course, Draco and Harry were both equally effect by the war, losing people and struggling with everyday life like it was supposed to just go back to normal. How do you go back after something like that?

Keep reading

Live and Die

In which Harry has a habit of sleep talking and says something very interesting.

A/N: GUESS WHATS FINALLY HERE?!  If you guessed another oneshot by the one and only TrulyMadlySydney, YOU’RE RIGHT!!!! YAAAAAAY!!!  This one has no smut and it’s pure fluff, AND there WILL be a part two written by the INCREDIBLY talented @steponmestyles.  We’ve had this idea for a while and I FINALLY finished my part of it!  So SIT BACK, RELAX AND ENJOY.

Ps.  I realize the title is somewhat misleading.  THATS BECAUSE this all came to me after listening to the song Live and Die by the Avett Brothers (X).  I feel like this’ll make a TON more sense once part two comes out, but hey.  In the meantime, you can enjoy this cute little song and read this cute little oneshot and be filled with all the feels your heart can feel.  ENJOY.

Keep reading

Lividness (Draco Malfoy x Reader) Part 1??

(Gif not mine)

Livid.

You were completely, utterly, passionately livid. Every heartbeat that resounded within your burning chest elevates as boiled blood pulsates into your brain– a semi-functioning organ (for the time being) that can only register exactly that. Lividness. No other color aside from red seems to exist, and the pounding in your ears drowns out the rest of the world’s white noise. You shook, completely enveloped, controlled, blinded… by anger. Forgotten are your trusted companions: common sense and sanity, in these sporadic moments, thoughts that have been replaced with neuron signals that consist of:

“THROW THIS! THROW THAT! SCREAM! CURSE YOUR HEART OUT, B*TCH!”

“…Oh, honey, you can do better than that.  SCREAM LOUDER!!!”

The release of such emotion is violent, yet undeniably relieving… but getting caught up with the fatigue is much less so. You were left panting, dizzy, and in a room littered with objects, ranging from cheap knick-knacks, to pillows, your school books to memorabilias. A hole in the wall, too, much to your dismay. Shuffling towards the bed, you sniffle, resting your face in your hands and waiting for the ache in your chest to claim the tears that follow. Tears that don’t ever need to be explained.

Tears that speak for themselves.

You see, for you, it’s all just a three step process. 

The room, littered with a dark aura seemed to blacken, the thickening silence becoming suffocating with the exception of your ragged breaths. With a sudden sickening feeling sinking into your stomach, your brain recovers from its momentary trance and begins to process what had happened. A weak “accio” fell from your quivering lips as you grabbed the nearest box, stuffing all the things you had collected over the past two years that had any relation to Draco Malfoy. You were done. 

Strong certainty found itself reflecting off of your movements as your numb hands stuffed his old Quidditch jersey, scarf, neatly folded into the cardboard exapance. The Championship afterparty in the Slytherin common room where Draco had claimed your first kiss upon his upturned lips seemed to be another lifetime, an illusion that couldn’t seem to shake itself from your mind as you ran your fingers over the grass-stained fabric. Shaking your head, you placed every love letter, card, picture, and gift alongside the other objects, determined not the dwell on their sentimental meanings. Another shuddering breath elicited from deep within your chest as you placed the lid over the symbols of a large portion of your lifetime. 

But this emotional rollar coaster was a cycle. Grief for miss opportunity hardens back into blame, brutality. The eye of the storm passes and infuration becomes intoxicating and dammit. 

You stuff a pillow in your face and scream until your lungs burn, yet it’s not enough relief. Punches fly and scratches leave angry, red marks on your skin as you desperately attempt to let it all out and find relief. 

All because of Draco’s lips when weren’t on yours the nights he “forgot” about your dates. Because of Draco’s lies that became so easy on his conscience that he didn’t have to think twice before spitting them out right to your face. And just Draco himself, who broke your heart so sneakily that you didn’t even realize it was all just built up lividness waiting for the perfect moment of release.

But most importantly, lividness towards yourself for being so oblivious to it all.

Draco, can we talk?” The distant look in his clouded eyes receded slightly, and with a lazy turn of his head, the albino’s dark circles and sunken cheeks became more prominent. Your heart twisted as you looked down onto the plate on the table in front of him, where his food lay untouched and undoubtebly cold. 

“What about?” he asked, an unenthusiastic grumble accenting the ends of his drawn-out vowels. He gave off an air of subtle coldness that you picked up on with ease, as it had become a common occurance, and your frown deepened. 

“Not here. Please,” you sighed quietly, willing him to understand. The complacent teen stood up slowly before marching out of the Great Hall, not bothering to look back to make sure you followed. Biting your bottom lip, you went out after him, matching his pace as he turned down a corridor into an empty hallway. 

“What is it, (y/n)?” he asked, annoyance lingering in his tone. You were taken aback, a grimace etching its way onto your face as you tried to brush off his obvious indignation. Shaking your head, you looked at your feet, taking a moment to collect your thoughts and ringing your hands together nervously.

“It’s just… you’ve been really distant lately, and there have been rumours going around that you and Pansy–”

“–so you’ve come to accuse me of something?!” Draco interrupted distastefully. “You know, if you wanted to say what’s on your mind, just spit it out! Don’t go bloody pointing fingers!” The sudden raise of his voice flipped a switch, your undying toleration evaporating in an instant.

“Of course not! I just wanted to know what I’m doing wrong that makes you so upset with me all the time!” you said angrily, all patience thinning out. “You’re stringing me along, Draco! I deserve better than that!” 

“If you have the temerity to complain with such passion, just break up with me,” Draco challenged. “I’m not the clingy control-freak in this relationship, so if you did, it would just be a blessing.” The last words that flew out of his mouth were spat out with so much diction that everything else around you stopped. A strangled whimper clawed its way out of your mouth and you hated yourself for sounding so weak. 

“(Y/N).” His tone changed abruptly, reminiscent of the soft way he spoke to you the first months that you were his. For as long as you could remember, it had been your anchor, but it became a foreign sound, for you were long gone. In a place where nobody could bring you back.

“(Y/N), I didn’t mean it.” Your gaze travelled anywhere but his face in a frantic attempt to keep from crying. But that statement was completely false. Draco Malfoy never said anything but what was on his mind. He was never one to eat his words and never one to take back something unless he was forced to. 

You should have known. 

Without missing a beat, you ran past him, drowning out his calls with the strangled cries that occassionaly slipped out. 

A soft knock on the door grabbed Draco’s attention. He half-heardtedly made his way over, turning the knob and lifting his gaze. His heart skipped a beat. 

“(Y/N)?”

You stood a distance away, stone-faced and drained. A large box with cut out handles at the sides was held chest level in your hands and you placed it in his arms silently. 

“I would’ve asked one of your friends to give this to you, but there’s some valuable jewlery inside so knowing them, I couldn’t trust it,” you murmured, no trace of humour in your expression. Draco was silent, still taking you in, indulging in the fact that you were standing in front of him when he’d been trying to get a hold of you for a month now. But his fantasy was quickly broken when he realized what was inside the box. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I cheated and I’m sorry that I lied and I’m sorry that I hurt you,” he managed breathlessly, placing the box down without a second thought and stepping forward to cup your cheeks. You gazed at him with a strained smile that didn’t quiet meet your eyes and peeled away his fingers, taking a step back. 

“I know,” you whispered. “But maybe you’ll find someone who’s actually enough for you and treat them right.”

“I don’t want anybody but you.” 

And the cycle continues to circulate, for if he’d realized that sooner, the crippling pain in your chest and barely beating heart would be pushed away for a less painful cause.

You were livid.