but the gun and hand ended up coming from a slightly off angle and yeah

A Different Mask

Hi this is bad but I’m posting it anyway

The world of the Phantom Thieves was a hilly one. There were challenges and calm, dangers and warm moments. But all the Phantom Thieves had one thing in common: they went through their pain together. They had been there for each other when nobody else possibly could be. When one Thief couldn’t be there, there was always another to help with whatever pain one had. They were, as they say, thick as thieves. All the Phantom Thieves had reached one unconscious conclusion, as well: none of them had been through as much as their leader. They all agreed on it, even if they didn’t know it.

Akira Kurusu deserved the world.

The group would always be there for each other. Akira knew that fully well. Yet he never leaned on them when things got rough in his head. They all relied on each other, but Akira couldn’t bring himself to put his problems on their shoulders. Whenever his confidence wavered in a Palace, the team was always hyping him up. But that’s all they saw.

They didn’t see his emotions outside the Metaverse. Those were his only secret. They didn’t know about his nightmares. They didn’t know the reason he listened to all of their problems was so they didn’t end up like him. He wanted them to have someone to turn to. So he locked his feelings away to be the cool and collected leader he was. Supposedly.

He kept his trauma inside. He kept the anger he felt when his friends were taunted and teased contained. He tried to make the comments from the kids at Shujin go in one ear and out the other. Whenever someone looked at him with that look of disapproval, he oh so tried to shake it off. But it all made him have days where everything just felt… numb. Like nothing he did mattered. These days were the days he thought about betrayal. Where he thought about his friends leaving him behind. Abandoning him.

Akira Kurusu was scared.

Today was a day where his feelings slipped themselves into every crack of his thoughts they could find. They partially distracted him at school, made his comments to his friends sound half-hearted when he truly meant them, kept his responses to Sojiro short, and made him reluctantly obey Morgana when he told him to sleep.

“Hey, Akira, what’d you get on the third question of the test? I put B, but I’m not very confident in my answers,” Ann sighed, resting her head on her hand. She had her mouth in a pout with her genuine look of unconfidence.

“I got B, too,” Akira responded. He sounded uninterested, but he really wanted to boost Ann’s spirits.

“Oh, great!” Ann said with a smile. “That makes me feel better.”

She spun back around when the next teacher walked in the room. He didn’t miss her look of slight concern while she turned.

“Welcome back. How was school?” Sojiro asked when the bell rang above the door to LeBlanc.

“Good, as always,” Akira responded, it didn’t come out as he intended it to.

Sojiro just laughed softly, “An answer I’d expect from you.”

He frowned as Akira moved towards the stairs, absentmindedly wiping away at a glass.

“So, you ready to go to bed?” Morgana asked later.

“Yep,” Akira replied, sliding under the covers. “I’m tired.”

“For once,” Morgana said sarcastically. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Akira turned on his side and shut his eyes.

He didn’t see Morgana jump on the bed and give him a worried look. He just felt him curl up next to him and release a sigh.

Akira had a nightmare. He was back in Okumura’s Palace. A crowd of worker robots surrounded him and his friends. They had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. They fought and they fought to no avail. Akira had to watch as his friends fell around him, one by one.

Ann was bleeding from a wound on her head. Makoto’s arm was broken at the elbow, told by it’s odd angle. Yusuke was so beaten he couldn’t stand. Futaba was trapped outside the circle, not hurt but in danger. Morgana was struggling to stay conscious. Ryuji’s leg had given out on him due to the stress. Haru was standing mostly uninjured, but her father’s shadow was pestering her with “Okumura Daughter” duties. Akira was helpless he couldn’t do anything. He was exhausted. He fell to his knees.

“This is what brats like you get for meddling in the wrong business,” Okumura walked to Akira. “You get beat.”

There was a gun shot, but Akira missed it. He woke with a start. He was shaking. He felt lightheaded. He couldn’t focus. He pulled his knees to his chest and squeezed them tight. He didn’t notice Morgana stir next to him.

Morgana didn’t move. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to risk Akira’s panic getting worse. Instead he just pretended to shift in his sleep.

Akira’s shaky hand reached for the windowsill. He grabbed his phone and checked the group chat. Nobody had said anything since their final goodnights. He wanted to talk with someone, anyone. But who would be awake at this time of night? He gave in.

Akira: Is anyone awake?

Ryuji: yeah

Ann: yep

Futaba: mhm

Yusuke: Yes.

Haru: I am.

Makoto: So we’re all awake at this ungodly hour?

Ryuji: i couldnt sleep

Ann: Me neither

Ann: I keep falling asleep and waking up again

Haru: I get how you feel, I was just thinking of texting you all myself.

Yusuke: I am only awake because Futaba is keeping me up with her constant messaging.

Futaba: this is important stuff im sending you!

Yusuke: You are sending me pictures of foxes in costumes.


Makoto: So in one way or another… We all are having a struggle with sleeping.

Ryuji: thats what it looks like

Ryuji: aww man i wish we could meet up

Ryuji: im not even sure if i feel tired anymore

Ann: I mean, it’s almost 5, we could meet up anyways?

Makoto: When did everyone go to bed?

Ryuji: 10

Ann: 9:45

Haru: Nine ‘o clock.

Yusuke: Eleven

Akira: 10:30

Futaba: ive taken naps throughout the day so im not really tired

Makoto: I see.

Makoto: Well, I guess we all got reasonable hours of sleep.

Makoto: I will permit this once, and only because we are all in the same boat here.

Ryuji: all right!

Ann: Yes! I’ve always dreamed of doing something like this!

Yusuke: Where should we meet?

Ryuji: how about Akira’s place? is that ok? the place doesn’t open until 8, right?

Akira: Yeah, it should be fine.

Haru: What about Mona? Is he awake?

Akira poked the cat with his finger. His hand still felt slightly shaky, but he was calming. Morgana meowed in reply, but rolled onto his side to look up at Akira.

Akira: He’s up.

Futaba: Great! See you all there!

Akira sat his phone screen down on his bed. Morgana now laid on his stomach, his tail swishing around.

“What’s up?” he asked drowsily.

“Everyone’s coming over. No one could sleep except you,” Akira replied, semi-sarcastic.

“Ok, might wanna fix that bedhead of yours a bit, though,” Morgana replied.

Futaba was quick to hop onto Akira’s bed, sitting criss-cross for once. Ryuji sat on one end of the couch and Ann on the other, stretching her legs out across Ryuji’s lap. Makoto and Haru sat on the floor by the sofa. Yusuke simply took a chair.

“Man, I’m glad to be outta my house. There was no chance of me sleepin’ anymore,” Ryuji groaned.

“Every time I shut my eyes, they just wanted to open again,” Ann complained through a partial yawn.

“I would fall asleep for an hour at a time. It’s rare I sleep like that,” Haru shook her head.

“Do we all have something on our mind that’s keeping us up?” Makoto questioned why this was happening.

“Umm… not that I can think of,” Ann answered.

“There’s nothing that would keep me up at night except Futaba,” Yusuke commented.

“Shut it, Inari,” Futaba responded.

Akira fumbled for words. He ran a hand through his hair in thought. While the others maintained a steady conversation on sleep habits, Akira was lost in his thoughts. He wanted to tell them. He didn’t want to keep his emotions a secret anymore, they deserved to know. They cared about him and should know when he’s feeling down. But how could he start? He didn’t have to.

“Akira? You ok?” Morgana asked, tail swishing. “You look kind of out of it.”

“Now that he mentions it, ya do, dude. What’s up?” Ryuji is quick to follow up.

Akira hesitates, “There… There’s something I need to tell you all.”

Akira talked the most he had ever talked at once then. He told them about his nightmares of losing them and everything he’s ever known. He told them about his emotions building up and how he felt like crap on those certain days. He poured his heart out in a matter of minutes because he wanted to stop hiding this. He wanted to stop being scared. He talked about the trial and being sent to Tokyo by his parents and how it made him feel so… abandoned. Betrayed.

“Akira… You know you can talk to us, man,” Ryuji was frowning though he was definitely concerned.

“Yes, you will always be one of us,” Yusuke spoke, sitting on the edge of his seat.

“Mhm, text me whenever and I’ll be sure to respond!” Futaba nodded encouragingly.

“We will always be there for you, Akira,” Makoto had slid closer and placed a hand on his knee. “Wherever we may be, we will always be willing to talk.”

Akira felt his hands get shaky again. But there was no fear or panic this time, just relief. They still saw him as Joker, their leader. Their tactician. Their friend.

“I never would have known this affected you so much if you hadn’t told us,” Ann frowned guiltily.

“Yeah, I feel bad,” Ryuji looked sad. He faced Akira seriously. “Just worry about yourself, man, before you worry about what others say.”

“They don’t know you like we do, anyways,” Futaba added.

Akira nodded. His face was hot. He was struggling to keep his shaky hands under control. He felt tears welling behind his eyes. Why was he still trying to keep his emotions in?

“I’m glad you told us about this,” Haru smiled at him warmly.

“You can surely rely on us as much as we have relied on you, leader,” Yusuke says assuringly.

Futaba quickly hugged Akira’s arm when he began to cry. It ended up with all of the Phantom Thieves on or around his bed. Ann was on his other side, head on his shoulder. Ryuji sat on the other side of Futaba, his hand lingering close to Akira. Makoto was kneeling in front of him, clasping a hand in both of hers. Yusuke and Haru sat in chairs on either side of her, leaning in close to fill the circle.

Akira’s free hand was on his face, wiping away tears that kept being replaced. Morgana squeezed in and curled up in his lap, nudging him with his nose.

“We’re a team, Akira. Teammates never leave another behind,” he said, closing his eyes.

The Phantom Thieves of Hearts had always had one thing in common: they shared their pain together. And they all awakened to one more thing; Akira Kurusu deserved the world.

The Sun Will Set || Part 10 (Final) || BTS Gang AU ||

Originally posted by bestteamofsoulmates

A/N: After over a year of working on TSWS, it has finally come to an end. I am so grateful for the support I’ve received from you guys for this series, and I just want you to know that your feedback and love is what made me able to finish TSWS. Please let me know your thoughts and feelings. <3


Summary: After a series of unfortunate events, you’ve found yourself under the care and protection of your city’s most notorious gang: BTS.

Word Count: 6.9k

Genre: Angst, Drama, and some Fluff (but mostly Angst)

Warnings: Character death, violence, intense action

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue |

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Lost Series - Part Five

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Paring : Jerome x Fem. Reader

Requests are open. xx

Originally posted by savagepatchkidzzz

I sat on the hood of this oil truck that we stole. I didn’t know what we were doing, but to be honest I don’t really care. Aaron, Greenwood and Jerome sat inside of the truck and Dobkins stood off to the side doing whatever it is that he does. I leaned against the windshield and lit a joint.

I glanced behind me and saw a school bus about to drive by. I knocked against the window and nodded my head towards the bus. Jerome smirked.

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12x14 watching notes

this show normally never makes me cry except that 1 episode in season 7, but god dammit Berens got me TWICE I’m disowning him

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Eighth Christmas

the series is as follows so far:

FirstSecond ThirdFourthFifthFifth Christmas, Part 2SixthSeventhEighthNinthTenthEleventhTwelfthThirteenthFourteenthFifteenthSixteenthSeventeenthEighteenthNineteenthTwentiethTwenty-firstTwenty-secondTwenty-third


Scully spent Christmas Eve at Maggie’s surrounded by loud family, mounds of presents, her mother’s recently acquired goldfish and what felt like a gigantic hole where her heart should have been. William enjoyed his Merry-Go-Round ride from relative to relative, drooling, patting, sitting up and pulling hair whenever possible. She, on the other hand, spent her time staring into space, remembering the two Christmases that Mulder spent with her family, sitting behind her on the floor, hand gently resting a hair’s width from her thigh, shin folded against her back end as he shuffled up close, watching the festivities over her shoulder, his breath so close to her, so warm and soft on her neck.

Suddenly, a restlessness shook her, a need to move, a need to see him, a need to hold him so strong she had to stand, pacing back and forth to the confusion of her mother, who watched her quietly from the couch. Her circle took her from the living room to the kitchen, down the hall, past the bathroom and stairs, soon returning to the living room. She traced the path four times before she found Maggie standing in her way in the darkened hall.

“Honey, are you all right?”

Rooted there, hands playing with themselves, wringing absently, “I need to go home, Mom. I just … something … I need to go. I’m sorry. I know it’s not that late but if you won’t hate me, I’m going to get going.”

She didn’t want to see them go but something in Dana’s tone of voice drove her to nod her head, “of course. Just tell everyone Will kept you up late last night and you both need your rest.”

Crooking an eyebrow and trying to smile, “lying on Christmas Eve. God will not approve.”

“I’ll deal with the repercussions but I think it will be fine.” Giving Scully a hug, “just don’t forget to come back in the morning. I’ll have been too long away from my little Will by then.” Stepping back, Maggie gave her a soft look, “we’ll be up at 6am, like usual, Mass at 9, breakfast at 10:30, like always.”

“We’ll be here, promise.”

With a smile, “do your best.”


Scully managed to get into her apartment and lock the door before she stopped dead in her tracks, her senses coming on line instantly. Putting Will’s carrier gently down on the floor partially under the end table, she slipped her gun from her waist, then began scouting the apartment, not sure what was bothering her but looking thoroughly through every room, closet, behind ever door and under every bed. Once she was satisfied, she returned to the living room, retrieving Will first before her eyes finally processed what was different.

Hanging on the Christmas tree, dead center and nearly hidden by an angled branch, was an ornament that had not been there earlier in the day.

Spinning quickly on her heel, she half expected to see him standing behind her, ready to scare the bejesus out of her, kiss her, hug her, cry when he saw how big his son was becoming. Instead, she only saw an empty kitchen, cold and dark, the misery overwhelming her instantly; she’d missed him, missed him sneaking in, missed him wanting to see his little boy and her, missed him so close she could smell his soap and taste his skin.

She burst into tears.


It was well after midnight before she finally began dozing, her head nodding, her ears finally relaxing to every sound made within the apartment. She was just slipping into a half-formed dream of Mulder when she felt a pair of ice cold lips on her own. Eyes flying open, Scully saw him, so real and so very close that the first thing she did was swing, heavy-fisted, catching him squarely at the top of his cheekbone, sliding her knuckles across his closed eye and ramming into his nose. After a millisecond of hesitated confusion, she was crouching over his hunched form, Mulder holding his face and groaning.

Yanking his hands away, she twisted his head towards her and kissed him, amazed he was real and whole and in front of her when she missed him the most.

He kissed her back for a few moments, then pulled away, whispering, “what the hell was that!?”

She met his mouth again and he stopped asking questions, too busy running his hands over her, pulling her tightly against him, to worry about a bruised cheekbone and burning eye. He only separated enough to pull the sweater over her head, making a note to comment on it eventually, once he remembered how to say more than a moaned ‘I love you’ in the general vicinity of her bare breasts, smooth thighs, curved ass and valleyed back.


The fear, however, set in the moment the pooled sweat between them began to evaporate. He felt her muscles tense, coiling in preparation to defend him, to kill him, to throw him from her house in fear for their son’s life.

His hands came down on her upper arms, his leg holding her knees, voice almost inaudibly, “don’t do this yet … please?”

She beat him to the punch, sliding sideways from his grasp and off the bed, shivering suddenly in the cold darkness, “do what? Wonder if somebody’s going to break in here and kill you? Shoot you in my bed?”

Mulder shushed her as he sat up, pulling the sheets around his shoulders, “yell any louder you’re going to wake up Will.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Mulder? You’re supposed to be hiding somewhere, far, far away from the eight thousand people who have you at the top of their shit list.”

Seeing this might not go as smoothly as he’d hoped, he sat up, pushing aside sheets, reaching out to wrap his fingers around her hip to pull her closer, “I couldn’t stay away. Not on Christmas. The guys have been dropping hints that I’m somewhere in southern Florida and the surveillance team that had eyes on you tonight gave up and went home to their families or their bottles of whiskey or their mothers, I have no idea, but Byers gave me the all clear to come in and I did and you belted me.”

Stomach clenching, “there’s a team on me?”

“Yeah. Skinner’s guys so not too terrible but I couldn’t have anyone, not even Walter, know I’m here so I had to wait until they left.”

By now, she was trapped between knobby knees, thigh muscles giving under the pressure of his hold on her, “then where did the ornament come from?”

Not smiling, wishing with all his heart he’d been the one to hang it, “I gave it to Frohike to hang for me in case I didn’t make it inside.”

She kissed him again with a fierceness fueled by six-month separation, her lips hovering over his when she finally pulled back to catch her breath, “do you want to see Will?”

His arms tightened around her, a spasmodic jerk of nervous anxiety, “yes, please.”

After pulling on pajamas, she retrieved their son, climbing carefully into bed before laying him between them. Mulder settled beside him immediately, head against the mattress alongside the boy’s, staring in wonder at his perfect nose, curved chin and pursed lips, “God, Scully, how can I ever leave him again?”

“You don’t have to.”

Allowing Will to blur slightly as he focused on Scully over his head, “please don’t make this harder. I have a few more hours then,” tears ran rivers down his cheeks at this point but she made no move to clear them, “God, don’t fight with me now, okay? I can’t handle it.”

Heart breaking, she cried with him, watching him smooth his fingers over light eyebrows and reddening hair, button nose and chin cleft, apple-round cheeks and near-translucent eyelids. Quiet tears fell on small pajamas and Scully held her boys as close as possible while they snuggled on the rumpled bed, breathed lullabies sung to sleeping ears. Mulder lived, for a brief moment, the mundane, homebound existence he wished for and dreamed of every hour he was awake and every moment he slept.

Eventually, exhaustion drove her to sleep but Mulder remained alert, basking in the precious time he was part of a family again.

His family.

His tiny, bigger than the world family.


He stayed until just before dawn, holding his boy close for the last hour, cradling him to his chest, memorizing his smell, his fingers and toes, his hummingbird heartbeat and the sounds he made, from cooing to grunting to that soul-melting sigh that made Mulder shut his eyes, try to absorb the perfection that was his son.


Scully woke to an empty bed, Will gone but making noise on the baby monitor, demanding breakfast and a clean diaper. The depression settled in quickly, the cold, heaviness of the apartment telling her he was already gone.

Moving automatically to Will’s room, she found a note hanging from the crib, taped and innocently waiting to be read. Forcing herself to wait until she’d changed Will and fed him, she finally settled him on her hip before unfolding the paper.

An hour later, she forced herself to get both of them ready for the return trip to Grandma’s house, Scully finally giving up halfway through, moving to the tree to examine yet again the ornament he’d left behind: one of a little boy in an oversize Yankee jersey, cap askew, glove at his feet, bat too large to hold up off the ground with the words ‘Daddy’s Little Home Run Hitter’ written underneath.

On the opposite side, Mulder had carefully printed in his trademark Sharpie “I love you” and the year.

Sneaking Around

Request by @mrs-erin-winchester: Cas and the reader are dating and the reader is the Winchester’s younger sister. The brothers find out about their relationship after seeing Cas and the reader kiss, and they get super protective.

Pairing: Castiel x reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut, language, mention of torture, das about it

A/N: SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT ON THIS. turns out I’m super slow with requests.

Originally posted by out-in-the-open

Originally posted by supernaturally-wwe-imagines

Warning: NSFW gif a bit further under the cut!

You and Cas had been sneaking around for months.

It wasn’t because you wanted to sneak around; you were both consenting adults who loved each other, so of course you didn’t want to hide your relationship.

It was because you needed to. More specifically, it was because of your idiot brothers.

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Playing Games - Part 1 - Smut

Originally posted by ultraciderqueen

Author: @dumbass-stilinski
Rating: NSFW 18+
Pairing: Stiles Stilinski / Reader
Words: 1,943
A/N: Okay so there was a picture that inspired this and then I got an anon about it so idk I thought it was a good idea. Possible part 2 if you’re interested.

Part 2 Here

Scott McCall was a bastard. That’s all you could think as you climbed out of the backseat of the jeep. He was on one of his “pack togetherness” kicks and was forcing you to do group activities. Which was fine, you liked hanging out with everyone, but you were dreading this particular outing. You were going to play laser tag, which you were sure was going to be fun and all, but you weren’t very good at it. You were klutzy on a good day, and you just pictured yourself sprawled on the carpet while Malia stood above you shooting you over and over and racking up points. You honestly felt bad for whoever’s team you got stuck on.

“It’ll be fine, Y/N.” Scott said, patting you on the shoulder when he caught the sour look on your face.

“Tell that to the bruises I’ll have tomorrow.” You dead panned, following him into the sports complex.

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High Hells

Anonymous said: So I saw this quote today and I was wondering if you could do a Dean/reader oneshot based off it? “You don’t know you’ve fallen for someone until after it happens.”

Anonymous said: Hi! First off, I’m addicted to your writing, it’s so good! I was wondering if you could do one where the reader confesses her love to Dean and he doesn’t feel the same way, but after a few weeks/months he starts to fall for her? Whether or not the reader takes him at the end is up to you :) Thank you so much! <3

@-sidetracked- said: Can we make this like, a dean story please where like dean is in love with the reader and he isn’t supposed to be so he tried to forget like all the memories and stuff but she still comes around for Sam and cas and Charlie so he can’t and it’s really hard for him

A/N: This is technically half of what I had planned, but it felt better to have the other half as the next part. Hope you guys like it!

Word count: 1,591

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: swearing.

Run Away (Part I) Low Heavens (Part II) Train Wreck (Part IV) Just Not Tonight (Part V)

Originally posted by spnfans

Theme song: Where The Devil Don’t Go - Elle King. “Let Go” Series Spotify Playlist

Your name: submit What is this?


Dean stayed in the hospital for three more days, grumbling about the lack of pie and beer as you laughed and watched old reruns of Days of Our Lives and I Love Lucy together. Cas came in whenever he could, speeding up his healing process as much as he was able, prompting Dean’s doctor to call his improvement a “miracle from Heaven” and causing you and Sam to share knowing grins behind her back. But even as he walked out happily, clean bandages wrapped around his shoulder covering the stitched gashes, the road to full recovery was a long one, starting with being banned from the road.

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Bellamy x Reader - The Four Times You Tried To Tell Him, and the One Time You Did

Bellamy x Reader - The Four Times You Tried To Tell Him, and the One Time You Did

(Request): “from number 27, Bellamy, like you weren’t in a relationship and in the middle of a war. So it’s not very fluffy just shocking moment or something but in the end he protects u from grounders ad blurts out u are pregnant. Yeah…something like that..don’t know the rules exactly..”

No. 27: “I’m pregnant.”

Okay, got you, think I know what you mean, but let me know what you think. There aren’t any rules really, as long as it’s not full on smut, so this is fine! Xx enjoy. :) This is set in a sort of AU where the Mount Weather people attack the Ark first. I’ve changed the grounders to mountain men, so I hope that’s okay.



You were in a room with various others, overlooking a large map of the Mount Weather area, him on your right.

He was completely unaware.

You had only done it once. Once! You swore it. And yet…well, you had heard all of the horror stories about teenagers getting pregnant on the Ark, and their babies being floated, but, surprise surprise, you didn’t really want to think about that now. Besides, you were on the ground now. They couldn’t float you or the baby.

But they sure as hell could still kill you.

Bellamy Blake, however, looked strong, sturdy and ready to grapple anything he was thrown. You wondered how he would take this. You knew you needed to tell him, so after the meeting disbanded, you stayed behind, and watched him intently for a while, as if to track his movements.

“Are you alright?” He puzzled, leaning in slightly, and you took an all to noticeable step back.

“Yeah,” you feigned reassurance, “perfectly so.”

“Because if you’re gonna help command when they hit us, I need you okay.” He angled a dark eyebrow, and you gave him an exaggerated thumbs up, and he laughed, patted your shoulder, and left.

You were going to tell him. You were. Just not quite yet.


One thing that you did notice was that since you, he hadn’t been in any sort of a relationship with any other girl, but he claimed that it was just due to the political circumstances, so you didn’t inquire further. So going to his tent at night wouldn’t be a bad idea, right?

The only harm it could do would be to create an angry Blake child, which, you then thought as you lingered outside his tent, was actually quite a bad thing.

The wind that night was moist, and as it blew past you it felt like you were by the sea, bracing the coming waves. Just, your wave wasn’t made of water; it was human and inside your body. That thought was probably the one to stop you entering the tent. You were going to create a storm by telling him, and the war had stirred him up enough already.

Hoping that he didn’t see your shadow, you slipped away again, thus creating a stronger wind in your heart, and in your womb.


Following him into the woods may have been a bad idea, but you were still debating the outcome. These trees could be riddled with grounder traps, hiding mountain men, or whatever other dangers lurked behind.

To yourself, you seemed like the most dangerous things around right now, even if you only held a small hand gun.

Glancing up, you witnessed that the clouds were starting to blacken, which was not a good sign. Rain was on the way, and you still hadn’t found Bellamy yet. Man, he was like a chameleon.

“Y/n!” The scream was one of terror, one that filled up the woods, bouncing off of trees, and you ran in its direction, ripping your gun from its holster. A mountain man, about six foot and in a yellow suit, held Bellamy down on his chest, with his hands held behind his muscular back so he couldn’t puncture the suit.

One shot. You didn’t have time to say anything, or to make contact with Bellamy’s pleading, but still glowing eyes, you only had time to shoot the man in the head. Suit broken, brain done it, he hit the ground hard, and you could hear a nasty crunching sound, as his head hit a rock bellow.

“You knew I was following you?” You asked, as he stood, still shaking slightly. He nodded.

“As it turns out, my second in command needs to work on making her feet quieter.”

“Do excuse me, Mr Blake,” you did an over dramatic hair toss, “I apologise for my mistake.” He laughed and shook his head, and you sat down on a fallen tree.

“You have something to tell me,” Bellamy’s voice was still slightly breathless, but you heard him all the same.

“But I don’t think I’m ready to say it yet,” you didn’t realise you were talking until you had spoken, and you mentally kicked yourself. Soon, you would start to show, and there would be no hiding it. He weaved his muddy, tan fingers through yours, and he looked at you, and smiled.

“Okay,” he nodded, “this is fine. Just know that you are not just hurting yourself keeping secrets. As your friend, this is killing me!”

“Maybe the secret isn’t for you.”

“Come on, Y/n, I know it’s for me.”


“They need you out there to command!” Bellamy’s voice struck you, like a branch falling from a tree, and you sat up like lightning. His cheeks ran with sweat, as if he were an oil painting, ruined in the rain. Blood billowed from his elbows to his finger tips.

You didn’t ask where the blood was from. There wasn’t any point.

“On it!” You grabbed your jacket, but he pushed a gun into your hand instead.

“No time,” he explained, “you’re at the foxhole nearest to the wall. Now get going!” You could have told him then. You could have just turned around, and said it like it was nothing. But it was something, and that was the problem.

When you got to your post, your squad was already waiting for you, Octavia amongst them, and you nodded out of respect to her.

“Right,” you commanded loudly, “are we ready for the first wave?”


It wasn’t that the baby was weighing you down physically; it was more the emotional trauma that came with it. There you were, shouting orders to a young squad of delinquents, guns in hand, whilst you had another human being growing inside you. Depending on you.

“Y/n!” Octavia’s voice was shrill, and you knew straight away something was wrong. Octavia Blake was not the kind to sound shrill.

“What is it?” You inquired, as she tied back her brown hair to move it from her face.

“Sterling’s been hit,” she told you, gesturing to the usually tough looking teenage boy, who was now crying in pain, “we’re nearly out of ammo. We need to send a runner back to the Ark for supplies.” You looked at everyone carefully. Sterling definitely couldn’t do it, and the guy with him was the only thing keeping the blood in. Then it was just you and Octavia left, which left the obvious choice of who runs. Octavia was his sister. You couldn’t risk her, no way.

“I’ll go,” you braced to jump out of the trench- like structure, “be careful.”

“May we meet again,” she squeezed your hand.

“May we meet again.”


Baby was not enjoying this venture, you could tell. You had already been sick that morning, and your breakfast was threatening to make a second guest appearance. Still, you needed that ammo, and Sterling wasn’t going to hold on forever.

About five minutes away from the wall, you skirted the trees, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself. It obviously wasn’t working. A gloved hand soon grappled you unexpectedly, and you were tugged from your place of hiding, dropping your gun, which meant that you had no protection from anything. The person in the suit could have looked like anyone, and for some reason that made it worse. You weren’t even going to see the person that killed you. The more humiliating thing was that they wouldn’t just get it over with; they punched you again, and again, as if to remind you of what you had done, but luckily none of the punches were aimed at the stomach.

“Ready?” The person seemed to taunt, unstrapping a knife from their belt. Suddenly, they jerked back, like they were having a seizure, and fell to the ground. Someone took you from behind, and hoisted you up to your feet, supporting you as you stood shakily.

“What are you doing alone in the woods?” It was Bellamy. Bellamy Blake, the one person that you wanted to see. You didn’t tell him why you were out there, not even that Octavia was safe, you just blurted out the words that you had tried, and failed to tell him before.

“I’m pregnant.”


He didn’t even persist to ask what you were doing, or why you would be so stupid, or anything like that, he just scooped you off of the ground, and carried you into the Ark, sitting you down on a sort of metal bench, and he started to rummage through the draws around the room.

“Bellamy,” you prompted, and you saw that his arms were shaking furiously, “Bellamy!” He twisted around like a snake, and you recoiled.

“I can’t believe you could…go out there, with that child, our child, growing inside you, I mean how could you be so stupid!?” It’s idiocy, but you remain silent. He started to dab at the cuts on your face, and you let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “Sterling got shot, and Octavia was protecting him and the guy that was trying to patch him up. We needed bandages, and more ammo, and we didn’t have a chance in hell of surviving if I just…sat there.” He paused, as if to contemplate what you just told him.

“I’ll go back instead,” he said in a hushed tone, and he even kissed the top of your head, “stay here. I’ll take the stuff to them, don’t worry.”

arasulahn  asked:

Can you do one where the reader has an IQ to match Reids and they butt heads alot and are very competitive and everyone thinks they hate eachother but it ends with fluff when the reader gets hurt and Reid gets mad at the reader for being so "stupid"x


Contains: Angst and Fluff

Warning: Mentions of bullying and hazing.


“Okay Spence, here’s one.’ JJ looked at her friend before looking back down at her tablet, reading off the sentence. “Tomatoes and cucumbers belong to the same family. Is this wholly verifiable or grossly erroneous?” She laughed at the way the question was posed. You but your lip and tried working on your paperwork, ignoring them.

“Grossly erroneous, or just to say simply, wrong. Tomatoes are in the nightshade family-Solanaceae- while cucumbers are in the squash family- Cucurbitaceae. Very different actually once you take the time to study plants.” He shrugged and you sighed.

“Well, most people are out living their lives on a Friday night and not stuck at home reading ‘Backyard Harvest’.” You pointed out. Spencer folded his arms, turning his chair to look at you, JJ’s gaze followed.  

“Why would I want to spend my Friday night on a date with a man that only has ten IQ points, can only remember his name, the fruity little cocktail drink he buys all the women to flirt with, and how to do push ups?” Spencer snapped back, you rolled eyes.

“At least I know how to have fun, not wasting my time playing True or False when I could be filling out the paperwork on the Cotulish case.” At that he silenced, turning back to JJ. You shook your head, turning the majority of your attention back to your paperwork.  

“Alright, how about one more before I let you get back to work?” JJ asked him, and you supposed he nodded because she started to ask another one. “True or false? The answer to this question is false. ” You imagined she raised her brow in that cocky way due to her tone. The team was always trying to stump Spencer with difficult questions. They would probably try to have fun with you too but you seemed to butt heads with Spencer so often that you’ve offended his little wolf pack. It’s just as well, you were used to silence from others anyway.

“Neither answer would work.’ You mumbled.  Catching the attention of the pair once more. “The question creates a paradox because neither answer would be correct. If the statement were true, that would be implying that the answer would be marked as false. This would then state that the statement is false, but since the statement says the answer is false, answering false would make the statement true.” You looked up watching JJ’s wide eyes and Spencer stare at you, slightly impressed.

“Sorry.” You shrugged, standing up, heading to the break room. “Maybe you should shoot for more difficult questions next time.”


You hated flying. Despised it, loathed it, any other word that meant ‘to detest’. It wasn’t just the fact that if something went wrong with the engine or if turbulence was too fierce the whole thing could come down, it was also that you were basically the outcast of the team.  

“Looks like pretty boy thinks he’s the master of pranks.” Morgan, JJ, Lewis, and Rossi laughed, even Hotch smiled a bit. You were more towards the back of the plane, on the couch by the bathroom, while everyone was in their seats, close together. You sighed and looked out the window, hands fumbling with the other.

You closed your eyes, trying to block their voices out. This was just like school all over again, the cliques.  

“Look at her, she’s such a freak.” You could hear the older girls from high school. It was bad enough that being 15 came with zits, braces, and awkward growing pains, but you were the smartest in your school. Instead of taking the route like Reid, being 14 or something and in CalTech, you had decided to take college classes online while attending high school. You were already weird in your own age group, nevertheless with people studying their asses off in their 20’s.

It wasn’t fair, you were just as smart as Spencer, you had matched just about everything he had done to a T. So why was he surrounded by friends, and why were you ignored?

The absolute worst part was that you actually liked Spencer, yes you were jealous of him, but you admired that the two of you had the same intellectual intelligence, always able to keep up in a conversation with him when solving a case and not picking on him. It didn’t also hurt that he was very easy on the eyes. But you were appalled at yourself for having these feelings, for all your love interests always ended up hurting you, no matter how smart.  

You felt the couch dip and you opened your eyes, meeting the brown ones you had seen so much of lately. You wiped your eyes hoping to make it seem like you were tired.

“You could always come join us you know.” Spencer said and you shook your head, pointing at the rest of the team who was trying ‘so hard’ to not stare at you two. “I don’t think your gal-pals like me so much. Listen, you don’t have to pity-invite me to hang out with your friends, I get that I’m like this, big joke to all of you.”

“I’m not-”

“Why don’t you go back to making out with Morgan or JJ while you discuss how chess was first invented.” You blocked him out, retreating into your ice-cold turtle shell when he left in defeat.


“Okay, we need to settle this once and for all.” Garcia announced when she entered her tech room. You and Spencer settled down in two chairs, both wondering what the heck you were doing here. “You two bicker non-stop and so I’ve come up with 4 questions, and one tie-breaker if we must, but whoever gets the correct answer first gets the question. Whoever gets the most, wins, so that can determine the fact that one of you is the smartest, and hopefully can make you two stop acting like middle-schoolers, and I say that with all my love my sweethearts.”

“I don’t know if we should.” Spencer objected and you scoffed.

“Scared you’re going to be beaten by another girl?” You pointed out, referring to Prentiss correcting his facts.  

“Actually I meant that I didn’t want to humiliate you, but if you want, we’ll go ahead and do this.” Spencer folded his arms.  

“Alright, How many miles long is the canal which links the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans?”

“50 Miles.” Spencer answered before you even got the chance to open your mouth. You straightened up in your seat, realizing you needed to start taking this more seriously. You were ready for the next one.

“According to Rudyard Kipling what were the "two imposters” to meet and treat the same day?“ Garcia shot off another one.

"Triumph and Disaster.” You rambled, hands slapping the armrests of your chair. You blushed, feeling slightly embarrassed that this was important to you.  

“Good, that’s one point for each of you. When was the Scrabble World championship first held?”

“1991!” The two of you said at the same time. Garcia’s brows raised and she sighed. “Alright, two points for each of you, this is the new tie-breaker. To prevent the same thing from happening again, Y/n you take my 'That was easy’ button, Spencer, you take this.” She handed him a mini stuffed turtle. He looked at the toy like it was a three-headed cat, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“It squeaks.” She explained, and he squeezed it awkwardly hearing the sound.  

“Alright, this question, for all the beans-” She was interrupted by Morgan knocking on the door. “Will have to be post-poned.”  

“C’'mon Genius’s, Hotch wants us.”


Siren’s echoed throughout the town. You and the team were headed for a man who thought that with each girl he killed, he saved. Thanks to Garcia the team was on their way to an abandon 3rd floor of a chemistry building at a college under renovation.  

When you’re saving someone, your thoughts race and suddenly you’re ending up right in front of the killer, which is what exactly happened to you.  

“Adam Thomas, put the gun down and step away from her.” You instructed, your gun trying to find a good angle to get rid of him. He shook his head, the barrel digging deeper into the victim’s skull.  

“Don’t you see, I’m trying to save her? Girls in her dorm have been hazing her, she doesn’t belong here, she needs to go to heaven where she belongs and can be treated right.” He was clearly delusional. You had to get her away from him. Now.

“Can you save me?” You blurted out, and your thoughts started sewing together a story you could use. Reid, Morgan and Rossi were still trying to figure out how to get in a clear shot since you were blocking the door, intentionally of course. You turned to the side, mouthing 'Fire escape’ to Hotch, who nodded and started heading that way.

“What do you mean?” Good, you had his attention, now you had to distract him until you saw a member of your team on the fire escape through the window.  

“I need your help more than she does. She’s been hazed? Oh yeah, she’s a damsel in distress alright. My dorm-mates slipped something in my drink one night, and I was completely out of it, so they took me back to my room, stripped me, and spread pictures of myself like that to the whole school. I was expelled.” You faked crying, watching as he started letting the girl out of his grip while you put your gun away so you were completely vulnerable.

“Now, everyone on my team knows, they found out, and made fun of me. This was my last job before I resigned but now…if you decide to take pity on me, it will be my last case before I’m free.” You saw Lewis on the fire escape nod toward you and you put the final part of your plan in action. “Please….save me.” He shoved the victim aside and you jumped aside as Tara shot him.  

After the victim was met with her parents, and the M.E. took the unsub- who was dead, the team came up to you.  

“Why would you do that y/n? You left yourself completely at his choice!” Spencer yelled at you and your eyes widened. He didn’t usually act like this. “Was that even your own story?”

“No, I had to make something up so I referred to an old case. But I didn’t get hurt! I got him! I saved her!” You pointed out.  

He stared at you, jaws clenched. “For a genius Y/n, you’re really stupid.” He stormed off and you stood there dumbstruck.  


After an hour of fuming on the ride back, you practically  ripped open the door, running into the bullpen, where you met Spencer’s face.

“Where the hell do you think *you* have the authority to tell me off like that?” You seethed to him. “You don’t get to treat me like a child!”  

“Well then don’t act like one!”

“Why are you doing this to me?” You asked, more like shouted.  

“Because I don’t want you to get hurt! Don’t you understand, I’m concerned for your well-being because I like you!” You stared up at him, and he wrapped his arms around you. “Please don’t put yourself into harms way again. I know you’re lonely but I’m here for you. Please don’t shut me out.”  

“You could’ve just asked me out instead of yelling at me in front of the team.” Your voice muffled into his sweater vest, his chest now moving from his laughter.

The team watched from the doors, Rossi holding his hand out and snickering as Morgan slapped a 20 into his hand.

(I have no idea how this turned out .-. )

Links: x x

anonymous asked:

how do you headcanon the batboys? like they're all described with black hair and blue eyes but like how do you really tell the difference? as an example, i always thought jason would be more muscular than his brothers with a square jaw and kind of more roguishly handsome while dick would be more classically attractive, etc? i just wanted ur opinion on this

I actually did make a post about that here… but I’m going to expound on it because I think it’s important and very interesting. Because not only are people (especially people of different backgrounds who aren’t related and Dick wasn’t even from Gotham) very different looking but also personalities create/are created by the physical limitations of the individual so it’s basically impossible to stress the many differences between the boys when they’re all the same height, weight, expression. Like… come one artists, you had one job. Gonna put this under the cut because wow I talk a lot and I clearly have put way too much thought into this.

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Dean X Reader: Best Friends

Request: the reader likes late 80’s/ early 90’s rap and Dean are in the impala, fighting over the radio, until it starts playing “Walk This Way” by Run DMC/Aerosmith. They then chill out and just enjoy the music. It could be hinting at romance, but I think it would just be cute for it to be like friends or maybe friends turning crushes, nothing too serious. Thanks. I love this blog.

Request: Hello can you do one where he reader likes like 80’s and 90’s rap and is constantly fighting with d]Dean over which radio to listen to. They finally settle dawn when its starts playing walk this way by RUNDMC and Aerosmith. Thankyou! I really do enjoy your writing!

Request: Hi :) can u write a fic of the reader & Dean? No love/smut, just a platonic relationship where they’re best friends & goof around w/ each other & stuff. Like a movie night or a game night or them just being silly in the impala? (road trip maybe?)

Request: Can you pretty pretty please write one where it’s set in Season 1 or early in the series and you just joined the Winchesters and Dean is driving the Impala but he’s really exhausted and he asks you to drive for a bit and you know how to, but you’re terrified of driving and you have to tell him and it’s all fluffy?

Warning: Mentions of Car Accident

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CS Oneshot: Love Is A Battlefield

Out of my writing funk just in time for this to work with the Neverland Renaissance. Thanks to belovedcreation for being my beta. 

Emma learns sword fighting from Killian Jones: falling in love is what happens between their sparing sessions. A long one-shot. On ff.net

          Heartache to heartache we stand; No promises, no demands.

Emma Swan, mother, savior, leader, and lost girl, sits on a boulder in a small clearing and stares into the dirt. She has an empty basket beside her and a cutlass in her hand. Admitting who she really was–an orphan–had left her emotionally drained, and she fled the crowded camp with the excuse of picking berries. Now she is alone with her own thoughts, away from her parents’ concern, Hook’s prying, and Regina’s frustration.

She looks at the way her steel blade glints in the starlight. That this is her life—magic and swords and children’s stories brought to life—is still something of a marvel.

When she’d imagined Neverland as a child in a foster home, it had been a bright and happy place, not dark, dirty and oppressively hot. But then again, she had also thought Peter Pan to be a courageous hero and Captain Hook a curly-haired, villainous coward. In reality, Pan is an arrogant, murderous teenager, and Captain Hook—well, she isn’t sure exactly, but he isn’t quite a villain and he certainly isn’t a coward. The pirate had changed since he’d handed her that bean on the Storybrooke dock; his leers and innuendoes had slowly been replaced by earnest looks and supportive statements. The look of pride when she unlocked the map and the quiet insistence that he wants to know her better weren’t what she had come to expect. With a sigh, she closes her eyes.

“It’s unwise to stray from the group.” Hook’s deep voice sounds much too near and she jumps. Her adrenaline spikes and she covers her pounding heart with annoyance.

“Shit! Hook. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

He gives her a small smirk and she rolls her eyes.

“I don’t need you to babysit me. I’m fine. Pan has had his fun and I have protection.” She lifts her sword and waves it for emphasis. “So just go drink your rum somewhere else.” It’s not the most charitable thing to say, but she wants to be alone and being rude has always been the quickest way to achieve that.

His jaw clenches but he transitions it quickly to a half smile.

“Pardon me, Savior.” He emphasizes the newly learned title and she colors. “I merely thought that given your limited ability with a sword, it would be best not to tempt fate.”

“Limited ability…are you saying I can’t fight?” she pushes off from the boulder in indignation.

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The Tattoo Artist

Pairing: Luke & Y/N

Words: 1500+

Request: I got a request for bad boy Luke AU, but it turned into this. 

Warning: This is smut, read with caution. 

(gif isn’t mine)


Please tell me what you think, it really helps me want to keep writing! 

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That Damned Tattoo- DeanxReader

I wrote another one shot. I seriously love doing these. Gimme prompts guys! I have quite a few that I’ve already written for my own amusement that I’m trying to polish up to post.This is one of my favorites, because who doesn’t love a jealous Dean?


Special Guest Appearance by the Ghostfacers!


-heavy passionate kissing

-seriously long


Dean placed his hand on your lower back and kissed the curve of your neck and trailed up to your mouth. Your fingers ran up his muscles and dug into him. He leaned you back onto the bed, releasing his lips from yours to pull your shirt up and over your head. He lingered his touch against your bare skin in awe. Again, he placed his mouth against your neck to breathe you in then continued gracing his lips against you.

“Dean…” you moaned.


”Dean!” His eyes shot open as he woke up from falling asleep on the couch of the motel room. Standing above him, you plopped the manila folder full of the information you and Sam collected while he was in dreamland onto his chest then walked across the room to the bathroom. You had been working with the boys for years. They both became your best friends. The three of you could talk and joke around with each other for hours on end. At the same time, you and Sam were closer than you and Dean since both of you enjoyed lore and research. It was probably also because there was a sexual tension between you and Dean that made both of you a bit uncomfortable. Both of you felt it, but assumed the other didn’t. Sam caught on but never said anything to either of you. He almost enjoyed watching it play out. Secretly, he wished you’d just kiss already. You stepped out of Dean’s line of sight to use the mirror to take your hair down from the messy bun it was up in.

“Where’s Sam?” Dean sat up and moved uncomfortably as to hide the erection his dream caused him.

“Convenient store across the street for beer,” you called to him still pulling out bobby pins. “We think we found out what’s tying our spirit friend here and where to find it, but we have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” You stepped back into Dean’s sight. Your hair fell curled, framing your face. He had to catch his breath at the sight of you. Again, he moved in attempt to hide the bulge forming in his jeans. You were completely oblivious to his struggle.

“We aren’t the only ones here looking for Ben Tibbet. Those damn Ghostfacer kids are here, Ed and… ah fuck, what’s his name? Harry? Plus the girl and the kid with the camera. Anyway, Sam and I saw them when we were leaving the library.”

While you spoke, Dean was able to distract himself from you by looking at the contents of the folder you gave him. You thought about how gorgeous his face was when his eyes concentrated. “Son of a bitch. You would think they would stop after that kid Corbett died.” He studied one of the papers then looked up at you. “A pocket watch? We’re looking for a pocket watch?”

“Yep.” You started to smile at him and his heart skipped. Just then, Sam entered with a 6 pack of beer.

“Did you tell him about our company?” Sam chuckled. He was pissed they were there too, but knowing how it would crawl under Dean’s skin was still comical to him.

“Yeah, I heard.” Dean said already annoyed at the thought of them. “Why don’t we talk about the case? A pocket watch. Where is the damn thing?” Dean was a little snappier than he intended to be with his brother. Sure he was annoyed with the amateurs exploiting the things you fought so hard to keep concealed, but he was also annoyed that Sam cut his time alone with you short and in truth you were too. It wasn’t his fault though and you both knew that. Sam sensed his brother’s urgency and attributed it to wanting to get the job done as quickly as possible.

“Ok well get this.” He pulled up a chair and sat in it backwards, resting his arms on the back. “We know that Ben Tibbet was cremated, so it’s not his bones, but, he has a memorial site in the old house’s backyard. It was built by his son, Gregory. A bench, a tree, some flowers and bushes… And, a cement podium with his dad’s watch encased in it.”

“So smash the podium, melt the watch, and we’re done.” Dean leaned back on the couch. “Sounds easy enough. We just got to avoid those fucking Hollywood wannabes.”

You sat on the other end of the couch opposite of Dean. He straightened up a little. You noticed but brushed it off. “Not that simple. Guess whose staying in the Tibbet Place.”

“Damnit, you’ve got to be kidding.”

Sam sighed. “I mean Dean it makes it harder, but not impossible. We just wait until they leave and go in, take the watch and take care of it.”

You yawned and stretched, your shirt pulling up a little to reveal a sliver of your stomach and the top half of the anti-possession tattoo that rested on your hipbone. Dean’s eyes trailed across your exposed skin. You relaxed then jumped up unaware of Dean’s eyes. “I’m gonna get a shower.” You patted his leg and ruffled Sam’s hair as you walked passed each of them. Once you were out of earshot in the bathroom, Sam looked at his brother.

“You’re drooling.”

“I… what?” Dean shook his head a bit and met Sam’s glance. The taller Winchester was smiling mockingly. “Was not.”

Sam let out a slight laugh. “Ha, sure.”

“Ok, so what’s the plan?” You and the boys were in the Impala parked outside the Tibbet Place. Through the windows, you could see the sorry excuse for hunters’ set up.

Sam started to answer when the girl, Maggie, pointed a camera towards the car and called out to the group. “Shit.” Dean got out of the car and Ed and Harry started their way across the drive, Spruce not far behind to record the encounter of course. You and Sam followed suit.

“Oh the Winchesters. What a pleasant surprise. Not.” Harry was trying to be intimidating which of course didn’t work. All three of the Ghostfacers then noticed you.

“If you want to talk about pleasant…” Spruce winked from behind his camera. You rolled your eyes.

Ed stood in front of you, mouth agape. “Hello,” he did a slight bow. “It’s very nice to make your acquaintance once again Y/N.” He held out his hand and you took it to shake only to be greeted by surprise when his lips met your skin. Dean got red with anger and jealousy. The last time you met them, Ed was completely infatuated with you. He shamelessly and awkwardly flirted with you every chance he got. It bothered you but at the same time it was nice to get some sincere affection instead of just being hit on by drunks at bars. Plus, the only time Dean ever seemed protective over you outside of a job was when you were being hit on.

“Alright, alright.” He moved between you and Ed which made him let go of you. “You need to pack up your crew and get the hell out of dodge.”

“What makes you think we’re going to do that?” Harry chimed in. He crossed his arms.

“I don’t know, because last time you put yourself in a situation like this you got someone killed.” Sam’s height alone was enough to make him much more intimidating than the Ghostfacers.

“We’re doing this in honor of Corbett. He would have wanted it.” As Harry retorted, Spruce angled his camera at your chest to capture the cleavage peaking the top of your shirt. You pushed the camera away.

“Turn that fucking thing off before I shove it up your ass.” Both Winchester laughed, Dean more to hide his disgust of them.

Unfortunately, the only way to get to the watch to gank the spirit was to play along with the Ghostfacers until one of you could get away without being noticed. Tibbet showed up a few times, trying to off someone but with the salt guns and iron rods, you and Dean were able to ward him off while Sam got the watch. Ed continuously flirted with you and professed his love. It was decided that playing along was the best strategy, causing your gruff hunting partner to grow increasingly enraged.

“Has anybody ever told you that you are the most beautiful creature to walk earth?” Dean rolled his eyes. You politely smiled. “No I mean it. Look at you.”

“Thank you Ed. That is very sweet.” You were getting annoyed too but didn’t want to ruin the plan. Sam would be back any minute.

“Come on.” Dean led the group to the door to the hallway. He held it open as the group walked through. First was Harry, then Maggie and Spruce. You followed him and Ed was close behind. As you walked through the door, Ed placed his hand on your hip, a fingertip touching your tattoo. You jumped at the feeling and before you could react, Dean had Ed pinned against the wall. His forearm was against Ed’s neck. “You keep your hands off her. You hear me? I will fucking rip your throat out with my bare hands.”

“Dean.” He ignored you.

“I said do you hear me?” He pushed his arm against him harder. You put your hand on Dean’s back, your touch causing him to drop his pressure on Ed.

“Yeah…I- I hear you…” Ed stammered out the door. Sam squeezed in passed him.

“What happened?”

Dean’s demeanor was still stiff and angry. “Nothing. You get it?”

Sam looked at you and you shrugged, slightly turned on, but confused. “Uh, yeah I got it. Let’s go burn the damn thing.”

Dean sparked a fire in the fireplace. Sam tossed the watch in and the three of you watched it disintegrate into the flames. You and the boys left the Ghostfacers, no objection to them.

In the car, Dean was silent. Sam kept turning around as if to ask you what his deal was but honestly, you had no answer. You would mouth ‘I don’t know’ and he’d glance back at his brother with concern. You got to the motel and Dean bee-lined to the room without a word still. Sam stopped short of the door. “I’m going to pick up some food. See if you can’t figure out what’s wrong with Grumpy.”

“Alright, I’ll try.”  You gave him a quick hug and opened the door. Dean was downing a fresh beer. “Dean what the hell was that back there with Ed?” He didn’t answer, just continued to drink the beer until there was none left. “Dean.” He opened another and took a swig. “Dean, hello? Answer me.”

He looked down and the bottle in his hands. “Couldn’t do it.” His gaze never met yours.

“Couldn’t do what Dean? What the hell is up with you?”

He was quiet for a long time but then looked up and locked eyes with you as he spat his words out with a hint of anger and hardened face. “Douchebags buying you drinks is one thing. Even flirting with you or talking about taking you home. Fine, I can deal with it because at the end of the day, I know where you’re gonna end up and who you’re gonna be leaving with.  But Ed…” He trailed off. You stood there in the shock of the moment. “When I saw his hand on you, on that damned tattoo, I broke. We’ve been working together for how long? How many times have I thought about MY hand grazing it? And this wannabe punk comes in and has the balls to put his hands on you right in front of me? Look, I’m sorry.” He started to turn away then turned back to again. “Actually no. I’m not sorry. I don’t regret it and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I’m done standing by and watching other sorry excuses for men trying to bed you. They don’t really care about you. Not like I do!”

You were at a loss for words. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes as you spoke the only word you could muster up. “Dean…”

He put his beer down and started advancing towards you slowly. His words softened to a more loving and gentle tone. “Y/N… I can’t do it anymore because as far as I’m concerned, you belong with me. I’m the one protecting you. I’m the one holding you up when you’re too drunk to walk. I’m the one making sure you’re as happy and as safe as possible in this life. I’m the one who can’t take my eyes off of you when you walk into a room.” At this point, he was right in front of you and placing his rough hands on your arms. “Y/N, I’m the one who loves you.” You looked into his emerald eyes as they looked into yours and down to your lips. Without a thought, he kissed you hard and passionately. Your lips danced together. Dean put his hand on the small of your back and pulled you against him just like he had in his dream earlier that day. You wrapped your arms around his neck and ran your fingers through the light brown hairs on the back of his neck. After a couple minutes of the fiery suppressed passion, you pulled away from his mouth but still held on to the closeness of the hug. You put your foreheads together and both of you matched grins.

“Dean, I love you too.” You kissed again, quicker this time as Sam walked in. Dean kept you close, not allowing you to escape his embrace simply because his kid brother had entered. You looked slightly embarrassed until Sam put the fast food bag on the table and started a slow clap.

“It’s about damn time!” He grinned wildly. “I was starting to think I’d have to tell you both myself.”

Both you and Dean looked at him and spoke at the same time. “Shut up!”


Pairing: Peter Parker X Reader

Word Count: 2794

A/N: sorry this took me so fucking long wtf i suck at posting but i love u and thank u for requesting this i really like the prompt and i was excited to write this thank u for being so patient w me :))))))))

also i started writing this as Andrew Garfield’s spiderman then i switched to Tom Holland’s so i’m sorry if theres a different personality type

“One shot where reader and Peter Parker are dating but reader has the same abilities as copycat, so reader can copy anything they see. Reader is also a hero by the name of copycat and one day reader tells Peter and then Peter tell the reader that he is spider man and it gets all fluffy.”

Originally posted by theavengers

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Happy Birthday @mysenia - I hope you have an amazing day <3 I wrote you a little fic to celebrate this awesome occasion. 

“GUESS WHO’S TWENTY ONE?” Stiles yells as he skids into Derek’s loft, a party hat at a lopsided angle on his head. Scott comes in after, wearing sparkly pink sunglasses with flamingos on them. Because he’s awesome.  Derek follows them, not wearing a party hat because he’s sucks. Stiles will wrangle one on him by the end of the evening, by thunder.

“I guess Stiles,” Peter says lazily, returning his attention to his book.

“You guess right,” Stiles, replies, pointing finger guns at Peter and making soft gunshot noises.

“I assume you’re here to collect the betas for an evening of drunken revelry,” Peter comments, still not looking up from his book.

“Correction,” Stiles says, putting a finger the top of Peter’s book and pushing it down. “The pack is going out for an evening of drunken revelry. And by pack I also mean you.”

“Yippee,” Peter deadpans, gently removing Stiles finger. Stiles feels that Peter is not very excited about the prospect of body shots and irresponsibility. It’s a travesty and a sham and Peter is coming whether he likes it or not. Pack bonding over alcohol and the celebration of Stiles entering this world. Because face it, the pack would be lost without him.

“Stilinski,” Erica yells from the top of the staircase. Boyd, who as usual looks passive and Isaac, who for once is not wearing his douchebag hipster scarf, stand either side of her. They look like a terrifying rock band. It’s simultaneously hot as fuck and mildly concerning. “ARE YOU READY?”

“Hell yeah!”

“Let’s get this party started,” Erica says gleefully. Stiles is pretty sure if she should be rubbing her hands together given the manic glint in her eye.

Tonight is gonna be awesome.


Stiles wakes up in a bed and he’s wearing clothes. Which is better than say, naked in a bathtub or the neighbor’s pool. It is however not his own bed. Stiles tries to get up but that’s when his headache makes itself known and Jesus wept. It’s like a gang of dwarves are plundering his skull for precious metal. Badly.

Stiles moans loudly and contemplates dying right now.

“The birthday boy wakes.”

Stiles knows that voice. That smarmy, velvety, smug, sinful voice.

“If you don’t have water and like a bazillion aspirin, you can fuck right off.”

Peter chuckles and God, why does he have to be so loud.

“Hush your face,” Stiles mumbles, accepting the aspirin and water. Peter pushes Stiles over easily, settling down next to him on the bed.

“Do you remember much of last night?” Peter asks. It hurts to think but memories flit about and oh dear lord.

“Holy shit, last night was like the irresponsible Olympics for us.”


“If you beat Boyd at chugging these beers,” Erica yells over the thump of the music, “I will let you do body shots off me.”


“Alright stoic and handsome,” Stiles says, giving Boyd a hard stare and jabbing two fingers at his own eyes then pointing them at Boyd’s.


“Ten bucks on Stiles,” Scott says, slamming his shot glass on the table they’re crowded on. Jackson waggles his index finger at Scott, already slightly tipsy. Stiles may or may not have put a little more wolfsbane tincture in Jackson’s glass than everyone else’s. It’s not like they can prove it.


“Boyd is gonna kick his ass,” Isaac says. Derek is shaking his head somewhere in Stiles periphery, clearly disapproving. He’s wearing a luminous green party hat though.





“I did body shots off Erica’s stomach,” Stiles says, “I drank Sourz out of her belly button.”

“That you did,” Peter replies. God he’s such a smug dick.

Another memory surfaces, like a hideous creature from the black lagoon.


“Cause I may be bad, but I’m perfectly good at it,” Derek croons into the microphone. He’s swaying his hips and a raucous bride-to-be is screaming whilst throwing one dollar bills in Derek’s vicinity.  


“Boyd, you gotta save Derek from the bride,” Scott slurs, clapping Boyd on the shoulder. Boyd is the only one still sober. Stiles thinks it’s because he’s wise to the wolfsbane. Crafty bastard. “She’s getting married, she can’t take our alpha home. She has a husband.”


“He’s our alpha,” Isaac pipes up. He’s nodding along to Derek’s singing, one arm around Stiles shoulders and the other around Erica, who’s filming the entire event.



“Oh my god, Derek sang S&M by Rihanna,” Stiles says. His entire world view has just changed.

“Yes, that potential bride was quite taken with him,” Peter comments.  Stiles snorts.

“Scott tried to fight her for Derek’s honor,” Stiles says, still reeling from the experience of Derek shaking his moneymaker. “Until Allison dragged him away.”


“But Allison,” Scott whimpers, “Derek is special, he’s had a hard love life.”


“I know sweetie,” Allison replies, stroking Scott’s hair. Derek is currently letting Erica put a crown of dandelions on his head.


“If you were a flower, you’d be a DAMN-de-lion,” Erica says sagely, patting Derek’s cheek as he beams.


“She’s aware a dandelion is a weed right,” Peter mutters to Stiles.



“I don’t think I remember what happened after that,” Stiles says, furiously rubbing his temples to makes his headache just stop. Peter takes pity on him, pulling Stiles to him. Stiles ends up lying on Peter’s thigh, Peter gently massaging his head.

“Well, we roamed the city in an abandoned shopping cart…”


“You’re gonna get yours Stilinski,” Allison shrieks as Stiles speeds past her. Stiles chose Scott before her and he’s the fastest wolf in all of Beacon Hills. Allison chose Jackson, who’s like the slowest ever.


“Don’t bet on it Argent,” Stiles shouts at they whip round a corner and into the Denny’s parking lot.



“Then we found your delightful drag queen friends,” Peter continues.


Stiles really, really loves Marci. She’s like amazing.


“You have such pretty eyes honey,” Marci says, holding his chin gently, “These eyelashes just need a little mascara.”


Stiles sits there obediently whilst Marci and Lydia discuss lipsticks. They decide to just leave his ‘quote blowjob lips unquote’ as is. Stiles thinks he has glitter in his hair.



“Did I get makeup on your pillows?”

“You think I didn’t wipe it off your face before putting you into bed,” Peter says, “I was not getting mascara on these sheets.”


“Stiles you cannot sleep here,” Peter says, bending down to haul Stiles to his feet. Stiles wobbles.


“I don’t think I can walk home in these,” Stiles says pointing unsteadily to his feet.


“I lose sight of you for a minute,” Peter mutters. Then he asks, “How?”


“I lost a bet to the nice lady in the leopard print dress,” Stiles says, “But I make these high heels work.”


He tries to vogue in the crimson stilettos but ends up crashing into Peter. Peter looks at him with exasperated fondness.


Stiles must blackout for a couple of seconds because he doesn’t know how he ended up on Peter’s back. Peter is warm and smells like expensive cologne. It’s nice. Peter’s nice when he wants to be. He lets Stiles look at his rare books and cooks him dinner and sometime buys him mint chocolate ice cream even though Peter doesn’t like it.


“Peter,” Stiles says mournfully, “I lost my party hat.”


“I’m sure it’s a tragic loss,” Peter replies.


They wander on in silence for a bit. Then Stiles breaks it.


“I’m glad you came out tonight.”

“Is that so?”


“Yeah,” Stiles murmurs, “Cause sometimes I think that you think you’re not pack but you are. And yeah, you can be a dick and sometimes I think you miss your family and it makes you lash out. But sometimes you’re really nice. Like when you punched that Griffon in the face cause it tried to eat Lydia. And you’re always nice to me, which I like very much. I like you very much.”


Stiles kisses Peter on the cheek. It’s a little sloppy and Stiles probably smells like alcohol but it feels right.



“I kissed you,” Stiles says slowly. Peter hums.

“You did. It was a little wet but I get the sentiment. I expect better next time.”

“Next time?” Stiles says turning so he can look up at Peter. Peter is smiling, genuinely smiling, not the cruel smirk he usually does. It’s nice. Stiles leans up and they’re kissing. It’s soft and warm and gentle.

It’s perfect.

Kiss Away the Fear

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Word count: 1,906

Warnings: NIGHT TERROR/NIGHTMARE, gore (classic supernatural stuff basically), a bit of angst, fluff

Request:  Could I ask for a casxreader where the reader’s night terrors are coming back and for weeks she’s been waking up shaking and crying and he tries to help her. Lots of fluff maybe?—Anonymous 

Can you write a story where the reader is dating Cas and the brothers don’t know about it but then they walk in on Cas and reader kissing and such? Thanks –Anonymous 

A/N: So I don’t know a ton about night terrors, but I did some research, so hopefully it’s accurate enough. If I’m totally off-base, please let me know for future reference! Hope you like it, anons!

Your name: submit What is this?

The worn leather boots sheathing your feet barely made a sound as you tiptoed across the dingy cement floor, gun and flashlight held aloft in your hands. A band of demons had been terrorizing the area for the past week, using this abandoned warehouse as a home base. Your heart thumped erratically in your chest at the thought of finally nabbing these demons, closing the case, and saving somebody’s—anybody’s—life. The last week had been more than discouraging, to say the least.

The smooth cement wall you were inching along met another identical one and you carefully edged around the corner it created, gun and flashlight ahead of you.

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