i think he was also in are you afraid of the dark once

2

Secrets Out {Part 1} {Part 2}

When you made your way to their dorm later that day with the hat that you had taken, you were nervous to say the least. You wanted to ignore that gut feeling you had yesterday. ‘I’m just being paranoid’ you said to yourself quietly ‘they’re my best friends they wouldn’t just do anything to jeopardize that’ you kept reassuring yourself.

When you got to their dorm. you placed the hat on the countertop closest to you and right away you heard whispers, you couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying but from the words you did hear, you knew it sounded somewhat serious? When you closed the front door to get their attention it immediately went quiet. You fought yourself so hard to not overthink it, you crossed it out of your mind. Gone and forgotten.

You walked in to where they were all sitting, and sat in between Jungkook and Jin, you didn’t know how to explain it but it felt different, the whole atmosphere changed, Jungkook felt uncomfortable around you and Namjoon seemed to have sat straighter when you sat down and you saw it. Remember that pit in your stomach from yesterday? Well it was back and deeper than ever, you wanted to bring it up but you couldn’t seem to find the words and there was an awkward silence before Taehyung stood up making everyone jump a bit. “hey y/n! Let’s go play video games!” “tae-” you couldn’t finish your sentence before Taehyung pulled you up and dragged you to the living room where all the video games were. Taehyung got your mind off everything happening around you, but those slight moments where you would look around to see Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi standing in the back whispering amongst themselves made you sink back into the depressing state where you question everything. Taehyung quickly picked up on your pauses and brought you back to the games. You felt him trying so hard to make you happy and get your mind off it, he knew about what was going on and he was trying to distract you?

Jimin came into the room being his giddy self but you felt it was forced. Was he forcing himself to be happy around you? why would he do that? Jungkook ignored you at almost all cost, something was eating at him and you were determined to find out what it was. What have they all been hiding? Usually you wouldn’t be afraid to speak up, ask them, but now it seemed as you were the source of the problem. You excused yourself to the bathroom to pick yourself up. when you came out, you must have been really quiet because none of the boys seemed to have heard you. Before you turned into the living room you heard voices you stayed behind the wall determined to find out what they were talking about, how you could fix it. “hyung I really can’t take this anymore every time I look at y/n I feel like crying” you recognized it as Jungkooks voice. “Jungkook you can’t say anything, she’ll be so hurt if we told her” a voice you heard as Namjoons said. “what we did was cruel and I’m also hurt we did that but why now Jungkook? Why suddenly after all this time you feel like you need to tell her now?” “Jin hyung please see where I’m coming from, I like y/n more than just a friend, but I can’t ask her out knowing what we did” Jungkook said he sounded as if he was so close to crying. “guys shut up y/n…” jimin said quietly. You’ve been spotted. You just stood there almost frozen. What have they done that was so bad? You’re going through all these years you’ve been friends with them in your mind. Wondering what has been happening behind your back.

They knew about your problems with trust and ‘friends’ in the past, they knew how you overthink everything, they knew about your anxiety, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore. “y/n…I’m-” Jungkook mumbled. “I don’t know what you did or what it has to do with me but you better tell me… now!” you were angry. That pit in your stomach seemed to have dropped to your feet. Your mind racing with thoughts. “y/n I think you should sit down” Jin said softly following a mumbling in agreement from Jiimin, and Hoseok. You didn’t know what they did but you felt like crying again, you felt like your world was falling apart. Your surroundings turning dark. you sat down in front of them analyzing each of their faces.

Jungkook, Taehyung, and Namjoon looking like at any second they would burst out in tears more than you were, Jin and

Yoongi just look worried like they were thinking about what you were going to do and not having a conclusion. Hoseok is clearly upset with himself he looks like he’s mentally punching himself, he has that triangle mouth that appears when something is really upsetting him. What was going on? Why are they acting like this? What did I do? What happened? Can I fix this? Shit. You were breathing fast while not breathing at all. The silence was painful you were losing your patience. “well someone speak!” you said loudly making them all jump. You looked around once more and all of them seem to be either in tears or near tears. Jin took a deep breath, he grabbed your hand as if to make sure you won’t walk away. “y/n, we….”


A/N: ok so idk how much i like this and i feel like i rushed it and its getting to the problem too fast? idk but there is a lot i want to write that works with this so we’ll see a lot of you have been asking for a pt. 2 and i was so happy a lot of you liked it since it was my first time writing a series type thing, but I’m happy and thankful. i forgot to put the title of the story on the first part but i think ill be calling this series ‘Secrets Out’ what do y'all think? ok i hope you liked this part~ pt. 3? (ps i feel like the angst was weak with this one so I’m sorry)

Arrow 6x02 “ Tribute” Review: Case of Been There, Done That

We are two episodes in and we’ve reached our first filler episode. This one was a tad bleh. I wasn’t very whelmed, so to speak. There were some positive parts but they all seemed to be connected to things that I’m not crazy about. Such is Arrow anymore; have to take the bad with the good. For me, this episode was meh because I feel like we have been here before.  

Oliver

He was being a wiseass to the press at the start of the episode. I must say that all the screeners who flipped out over the Bruce Wayne mention really need to get lives. That is not singularly the most shocking, show-changing and whatever hyperbolic bull they espoused over the name drop. I think the most show-changing event in the history of Arrow was bringing on Felicity Smoak. She changed absolutely everything. But that’s just me.

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

He’s in a game of cat and mouse with the new character, Agent Watson. (I think the first name was Samanda? But I might be wrong.)  She’s not buying his deflections one bit and is determined to prove he is a vigilante. He’s also in a cat and mouse game with Anatoly—who knows Oliver’s weaknesses and exploits them.

But mostly Oliver’s storyline this episode was wrapped up in William. 

I will be honest that the kid had a couple of improved—not great—scenes in this episode. They also were a bit better in how they wrote him; he wasn’t a sniveling 5 yr old. He was acting like a middle schooler. I still think he’s supposed to be about 10; not 12. But that’s my obsession with timeline accuracy. I’m a stickler for it in my own work so it bugs me when others don’t do the same. :D 

Anyway. 

Oliver + William 

This is still not my favorite storyline. And what’s the point in having a show about Oliver Queen being the Green Arrow if he isn’t the Green Arrow? I’ll forever dislike William simply because I don’t like the storyline that introduced him. It was sloppy and unnecessary and I’m resentful. It spun a lot of things out of control and was one contributing factor into why season 5 was so damn awful. 

But this is where part of my frustration comes in with this episode and storyline choice: This is just the same story we’ve already been through but now it’s under the guise of Oliver being a dad. Oliver can’t be Green Arrow because of X.

In William’s scene where he says, “That’s not up to you,” he was right. And as much as I wish he’d go away, the kid was understandably afraid of being orphaned. Though, I doubt he’d really be alone. I’m not even talking about Oliver’s found family taking in William. Everyone seems to have magically forgotten Samantha’s parents from last week. In all likelihood he’s probably much closer to his grandparents than he is to Oliver right now. He and Oliver have begun tentative steps to building a relationship between them—something I suspect William is hesitant about because he’s afraid to let Oliver in just to lose him. William did just tragically lose his mother. 

The only redeeming part of this repetitive storyline is that it’s hard to blame it on Oliver’s own stubborn stupidity. He’s not choosing the mask over being in a relationship; he’s not questioning his ability to lead in the light and the dark. Oliver clearly was trying to balance life as a mayor, father and vigilante. He’s not the one who couldn’t handle it, but William. 

I can’t even be mad at Oliver for choosing his kid over being a vigilante. That’s not even close to the worse decision he’s ever made. And it’s selfless; an act of true parenthood from him because being the Green Arrow means something to Oliver. It’s an act of redemption for his sins. It’s a point of purpose. But he’s sacrificing that for the benefit of his son. Again, not an ignoble idea.

Except that we all know that he is going to be the Green Arrow again and that’s why it feels tired. The difference is that he’ll likely hood up again with William’s encouragement. But the summary of this story is that once again Oliver believes he has to choose between being the Green Arrow and being Oliver Queen. 

Why does this sound so familiar…? 

Keep reading

After the Parade

“Hush,” he says.

Above them, Cabal ships drag thick black smoke across the flickering twilight, and flames rise from the Tower. Legionnaires scour the streets, seeking out the cries of the wounded and afraid.

“Hush,” he says again, as the child starts to sniffle, and he pulls her into the shadows cast by an apartment block as a patrol makes its laborious way past. He was made to protect, made to serve, but he feels clumsy now; the hand on her shoulder is almost larger than her head and she has no armor to protect her bruised and burned skin from his rough gauntlets. When he tries to wipe the tears from her face he worries that he will be the one to break her.

He followed her screams, just as the Cabal did. He had no rifle to kill the Legionnaires that would have silenced her; dispatched the first one with his boot-knife but was not quick enough to catch the second unaware. It is dead, but his chest-plate is cracked and burned and the thing that eats the Traveler has also eaten his Light.

She is wearing yellow. A summer dress, for a celebration. When he offered her his gore-spattered hand she took it at once, and did not look back at the splayed and broken limbs visible beneath the rubble around her as though she knew there was no one left to wait for. He brushed dust and chips of concrete from the tight black curls on her head, and when she tried to smile her gap-toothed smile at him despite it all he knew that he would die the second death to save her.

They pick their way through dust-covered streets and alleys, one grimy hand holding his armored fingers, the other wrapped around the silent shell of his Ghost. He told her to keep it safe, and she clutches it to her chest with an intensity that would do any Titan proud.

To those behind the Wall, love and service. To those outside it, fury and fire. He is young: the Order’s maxim has never meant much to him, but here at the end of an Age he feels each word burning in his chest and he wraps his Mark around her shoulders like a cloak, like a little Hunter, to keep the nearness of the night from her as best he can.

When they hear the distant bursts of gunfire he waits until the chatter fades, then leads them in a different direction even though it gives him hope to know the City is still fighting. Perhaps if he ran to the violence he would find weapons or more Guardians, but he will not risk it. And so hours pass as they slink across the city, and as slowly as his wounds force him to move she still takes ten strides for every one of his. She has only one sandal, silver leather wrapped around a tiny leg, but he thinks that a single piece of armor is better than no armor at all.

He finds a battered pulse rifle in a street that leads to a square, tries not to wonder where its owner went. The magazine is full, but it is all he has and there is no Ghost at his shoulder to synthesize ammo. He bends to pick it up, never letting go of the hand that holds his own, just as a troop of Legionnaires turn the corner in front of them.

He pulls the child behind a crumbled wall. Waits one heartbeat, two; no slug throwers roar in response. Even so, they are between him and the direction he has lead, and he doubts he has the strength to cross the City again.

Love and service to those within. Fire and fury to those without.

The Legionnaires do not notice, but neither do they move on. More join them, and they begin to spiral out in all directions, continuing their search. It will not be long before they find him and the child. A narrow street, once hung with banners but now collapsing from the rooftops down, will lead her west, to the walls, away from Cabal patrols - as long as there is a distraction.

He lifts her chin as gently as he can.

“You have to run,” he whispers. He is bad at whispering. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“That way,” he says when she stares at him in silence, pointing with his outsized hand down the shadowed street.

He gives her a delicate push, points again. She blinks, once, then toddles into the dark, Ghost held close as though it will protect her. Perhaps, if there is a way to undo this disaster, it someday will.

He props the rifle atop the ledge, lifts his visor and sights with naked eye. There are so many, he thinks, and then bites back a laugh - there are only eight.

Love within. Fury without.

The rifle barks. One Legionnaire dies and the others spin in confusion, firing in the direction of his cover. He ignores them, squeezes the trigger again. And again. And again.

Love within. Fury without. Love within. Fury without. Love within. Fury without. Love within -

Something tugs his arm. He looks down into the eyes of the little girl, and pure terror finds him.

“I said run,” he growls, but she does not, her face set in a scowl. He shakes his arm and she does not let go.

A micro-rocket bursts against the barricade and he ducks, throws his body over her, sprays the rest of his bullets in response. The child buries her head in his cracked armor, her frail body shaking.

Never has he been so afraid to die.

He feels a fool. He tosses the rifle down, wraps one arm around the child and pulls her close. With the other he slams his visor shut. He takes a deep breath, and then another, and when at last there is a break in the constant fire he lurches to his feet, lifts the child to his chest, and runs.

It is hard, so hard, to move full Titan-plate without his Light to drive it. His body aches. Something inside is probably broken, and he does not know how long it takes a body to heal without a Ghost.

A slug hits him in the back and he stumbles but his armor holds, and he sprints down the street where he tried to send the child, the sound of jump-packs following behind. He ducks his head and cups himself around his charge, makes himself as big as he can, plows across the debris-choked pavement. The girl begins to cry again, though to his ears it is not the sound of fear but of fury, and before long he is roaring with it, and the two of them roar together down the long, narrow street as explosions scatter bits of ruins that once were homes. He does not know where he is going, knows only that he must go somewhere, that he will not stop until the child is safe or his legs no longer work; that when he has nothing left he will throw her from him and tear the Cabal apart with fists alone, Light or no.

He has stopped counting the impacts. Every step is a knife in his chest. The Legionnaires must be close but he does not turn, lest the shield that is his body fail. He can feel himself slowing, a sensation that fills him both with wonder and despair, but he cannot force himself to let her go despite his promise. Something cracks against the back of his leg, and he is too tired and too hurt to correct. He lands heavily on one shoulder, slides ten grinding yards, arms still wrapped around the child. At the very least, they will have to rip him apart to get to her. Maybe, if he dies quickly, they will not notice her at all.

Gunfire interrupts his thoughts, along with the sound of footsteps and the roar of Cabal. Hands grab him, drag him out of the street, but still he does not uncurl. He sees Hunter cloaks, Warlock robes, a Titan mark.

“Hush,” he tells the child, head still tucked close, while they cower in a doorway and around them Guardians fight.

“Hush,” he tells her, over their surprised cries of pain.

“Hush,” he tells her, over and over, until at last all is silent and he dares to lift his head and stand.

He helps the child to her feet, and though he leans against the doorway it is her tiny hand in his that keeps him upright. He looks around at their saviors: most are near as bruised as he is. They nod their heads, pat him on the back, and he opens his mouth to ask for forgiveness, for leading the Legionnaires here, but a Hunter shakes her head as though she knows what he will say.

Two Guardians lie dead. Truly dead. One Hunter, one Titan wearing the Mark of the Gatewatch. He waits the half-second for their Ghosts to revive them, feels sick when they do not rise. He swears that he will learn their names and add them to the Order of the Pilgrim Guard.

Someone makes cooing sounds and tries to take the child, tries to give her water, but she refuses to let go of his hand, refuses to surrender his Ghost. For a moment they stand there, all seven of them in a circle around her, and it is as though a different light has risen to bond them all.

They need ships. Weapons. Food, maybe. The child, at least, must eat. The Hunter offers water again, and he wonders how many new scraps of fabric she has taken for her cloak. A different Titan, this one wearing the Mark of the Six Fronts, hands him the dead Hunter’s rifle - then looks down at the child, still clinging to his hand, and passes him a sidearm instead.

They turn their backs to the Tower, and continue their slow march to the western wall. Perhaps they will find supplies along the way. If not, so be it - they are still Guardians, and they will save what light they can.

Love within. Fury without.

The Cabal have no word for ‘retreat.’ Soon, they will learn that the Guardians have none for ‘mercy.’


Words: @themothyards

Art: @artdailybykitty

⇁ nudes, not flowers | 02

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

pairing⇁Hoseok x Reader x Jungkook

genre⇁smut || fuckboi!au

warnings⇁voyeurism + exhibitionism, dom!junghope, power play?, dirty talk!!!, jealousy, demeaning names during sex, the threesome, & probably other warnings byE 

word count⇁10.4k 

You’re not supposed to fall for Jung Hoseok and his repertoire of awful pick-up lines—but you do. The problem is: he’s afraid of commitment, and bolts at the idea of settling down. After that, you decide to stay far away from fuckboys, but his friend decides to test your new found resolutions.

or : Jungkook wants to see how far he can push Hoseok until he snaps

 ⇁  01 | 02 (final)  sequel

Keep reading

KURO WEEK - DAY 5: Nightmares

Eeeh… so this is kinda long. But I loved writing it. Also: it’s from Shiro’s POV. So… have this:


Monsters don’t have nightmares…


It took everything in him not to scream. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Wouldn’t let them know how afraid he really was.

No…

He had survived this once… He would do it again. Because now he knew how the cruel machinery of the arena worked, relentless and precise like clockwork. He knew what the Druids would do to him. He knew the rules.

Stick to the rules and survive.

And rule number one was to never show your fear.

Shiro could do this, he would survive and find his way back home. Home… wherever that was. A small, fragile smile crept onto his face. Of course he knew where home was. It was somewhere among the stars… Sitting in a giant robot lion and hunting every single Galra cruiser down in order to find him. He would survive this… for now there was Keith, burning with the force of a thousand suns, fiery red and blazing with anger. He had seen glimpses of what the Red Paladin was capable of… This man would tear the universe apart and burn the whole Empire to ashes, if that’s what it took to get Shiro back.

For now he would stick to the rules and buy his friends as much time as possible to come and find him. Him and-

Movement from the shadows caught his attention, followed by a soft sob. If it hadn’t been so eerily quiet in their cell, he might’ve missed it. Shiro froze at the sound, eyes trained on the the figure that laid curled up on one of the cots.


The first time he’d seen him, Shiro had actually lost it. He still had no idea where he came from – it didn’t really matter anyway. Because he was there nonetheless. He existed. He breathed. There was a soul in his yellow eyes, when he gave Shiro that look. That look of utter betrayal, like he’d hoped for something more, something that was definitely not a beaten and bruised Shiro.

He couldn’t really remember when or how the guards had maneuvered him into the same cell he occupied. At some point he’d simply checked out, mind going blank and numb, because it was all too much.

The Druids had taken his arm, stripped him off any right he thought he had, put him through fights against aliens twice his size… but THIS. This had been the last straw.

It was the day he met his clone, that Shiro actually cried for the first time in ages. He cried for himself. It was the same day he realized, that this would never end. They’d always find a way to break him, to bend and twist him, until his mind turned into something ugly. The evidence, the actual personification of their madness driven efforts, sat right in front of him and stared at him with piercing yellow eyes.


He had no idea how long they’d stayed like this. Huddled against opposite walls of the same cell and staring off into nothingness, until one of them had started talking. It had been awkward, looking at his own face and listening to his own voice, somewhat sounding off. More guttural. Some words even sounded a little…purred? It was almost off-putting to see his own face staring back at him and moving with expressions that weren’t his. It felt like watching yourself in a mirror, but your reflection suddenly stops moving along with you. Familiar features turned into something otherworldly, because someone else controlled them and poured their very soul into every twitch and pull of muscle.

They’d created a whole new being. The clone might’ve looked like Shiro, but under their shared features, there was a different person. Individual. Original. And so, so human. He even had a name.

Kuro.

How fitting, Shiro had thought at first. But he’d come to realize quite fast, that Kuro wasn’t the dark, evil minded counterpart he’d expected to hide behind that name.

In fact, the more they talked, the more Shiro got the impression, that their Galra-hybrid was more human than most people Shiro had met back on earth.

He had suffered. He had seen horrible things, survived even worse. He’d been ripped open and put back together, just to be torn apart again. Some days he would find the strengh to laugh at all of this… And some days he would break under the pressure and fear. Like any human being would do.

Days had passed. It was easy - too easy - to believe that Kuro was anything but a monster. Especially so, after he’d been carried back into their cell, right after one particular hard fight. Kuro had won, of course… But was the damage his body and mind had taken really worth it?

Seeing him like this morphed repulsion and mistrust first into pity, then into something else. Something Shiro didn’t really want to think about. It felt way too close to compassion.

He couldn’t let that happen.

Stick to the rules and survive.

And sticking to the rules meant no sympathy for Galra-clones.


In the end the universe wouldn’t have any of it.


Another sob brought him back to reality. It tore through the silence that hung between them. As far as he could tell, Kuro was still asleep on his small cot, but he thrashed wildly against invisible enemies and restraints. Maybe he relived his latest fight? His latest torture? Tears glistened in the dim purple lights.

In this moment he looked almost completely human… Vulnerable and scared and just so much younger.

Shiros throat went dry. Kuro wasn’t a monster… never had been… And that tore at his heart.

Despite what the Druids wanted him to be, Kuro was anything but a monster.

Without thinking, Shiro stood up from where he sat, back against the wall, and silently made his way towards the clone. Said clone was a mess; twitching and and clawing at the nightmares that plagued him.

Another whimper. Small and heartbreaking. He couldn’t take it.

Shiro couldn’t stop himself from reaching out, trying to soothe Kuro with a warm hand on his shoulder. But it wasn’t enough to make the nightmares stop…

Fuck the rules.

Soon he found himself huddled up on the small cot next to the other man, arms wrapped around shaking shoulders and metal fingers stroking carefully over a tense back. There were scars on his back. So. So many… Shiro didn’t even want to know what had caused these scars. Or the nightmares.

This man was definitely no monster.


Because monsters

didn’t have nightmares…

___

I know I promised there will be a happy ending to my Kuro week… But for now… suffer with me? @kuroweek

anonymous asked:

Okay but just think of the dozens of Sterek fics that will come from that small scene of Stiles saying blindness is his biggest fear and Derek questioning him. I can just imagine one with Derek hearing Stiles heartbeat stutter and later confronting him about it and Stiles being all like 'of course it's not my biggest fear, don't you know me at all? My biggest fear is losing you again, watching you bleed out and not being able to do anything about it, not being able to save you.'

Derek’s eyes linger after Stiles looks away, his body shifting restless, fingers clenching and loosing in a twitch across the exam table. The lie hangs bright and obvious in the air –– less in the absent hitch of heartbeat or the burn of nerves that don’t taste quite like embarrassment or like fear. Derek could explain those things away in context if he tried, but he can’t explain the way the words fail to line up with everything he knows he knows about Stiles.

“Becoming blind?”

“Yeah… terrified of it. Always have been.

He wonders if it’s as obvious to Scott as it is to him, but the rest of the group’s already moved on, not missing a beat, focus shifted back to the problem at hand while Stiles re-centers. His pulse sharpens again and his eyes lift back to Derek, flicking up and away before moving back to Scott again, sliding seamless back into the conversation.

Derek shakes off the strangeness, and follows him.

.-

“Why did you lie in there?”

Stiles’ step falters on the question, and the resigned set of his shoulders tell Derek he’d been expecting this and hoping every bit as much to avoid it. Derek almost wants to take it back, tell Stiles is doesn’t matter, let whatever horror lives in the darkest place of Stiles’ heart lie there undisturbed… but this is too important.

He crosses his arms, keeping his tone and stance indifferent like that might make this conversation any easier.

“We need to know what’s coming, Stiles. When these things manifest, it’s not just going to be your fear anymore. It could threaten everyone.”

He’s not expecting the laugh that punches out of Stiles, harsh and thin and edged bitter enough to make Derek’s unaffected stance falter.

“Don’t you think I know that?”

Dark masks and fireflies float through Derek’s mind. A too-pale stranger with Stiles’ face and cold, ancient eyes. A huge lizard with paralyzing claws, and too-wet breaths as water threatened to pull them downward. A misshapen wolf with crimson eyes and spittle-laced breath, and an image of ghostly horsemen Derek had never seen, only heard of in Peter’s stories.

Derek could stab guesses at Stiles’ worst fears, could conjure up possibilities in Stiles’ quaking hands and nervous eyes as they darted out to the empty parking lot, looking for an escape before moving reluctant back to Derek. But he couldn’t know, and he needed to know, especially if it was something that could hurt the group.

…Especially if there was a way he could help Stiles prepare for it.

When it comes, he’s the one who’s unprepared.

“I can’t lose you again,” punches out rough and shaken, stunning Derek into stillness. Salt stings the air as tears well, and Stiles looks away on a wet breath, hand raking into his hair and tugging. “You were… dying and I walked away. I had to, there was nothing I could–– And then you were just gone afterward and I knew you were fine, I knew it was better that way but… fuck, Derek. It felt like you’d died some days.”

The tear tracks down and Derek feels his head shaking, arms falling from their faux-casual cross. The words are ringing through his mind, rattling around in a way that makes no sense and makes too much sense, echoes something too raw and honest inside him and he steps forward, “Stiles…” falling out soft, but Stiles is rocking a step back, shaking his head and swiping rough at the tear. Derek lets him retreat.

“My mom died in front of me.” This confession falls out soft, and Stiles’ shoulders shrink in against the sting of them. He looks small again, sixteen or years younger, and it takes an effort not to move in and shelter him from the sting of his own words. “And I just… I couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t save her. Do you know how that––” He cuts off, because he knows Derek knows. Derek understands that feeling better than anyone. It’s a bond Derek’s always wished they didn’t share.

Stiles shakes his head, blinking quick.

“Fuck, I can’t go through that again, ok? If these things are bringing our worst fears to life then I’m better off away from it, for everyone’s sake. What if it kills you because of me, because–– I can’t watch someone else I love die.”

The words hang. Stiles has gone strangely still suddenly. In the clinic, some young pup sets up howling.

“…You love?” Because Stiles had been talking about his mother, but he’d also been talking about Derek. About losing loved ones, and that…

Stiles’ breath hisses out, body tensing up defensive and challenging. His hands ball up, shoulders setting broad again, and it feels like every argument they’ve ever had when Stiles meets his eyes, daring him to doubt the revelations he’d just laid out.

Derek had learned a long time ago not to doubt Stiles.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he says, like it’s obvious. Like it’s some undeniable fact that Stiles loves him, fears losing him, that in all the nightmares of Stiles’ life, losing Derek could rest in anywhere near the same category as possession or dementia, or his mother’s death. But Stiles has always been afraid of losing people he loved, of not being able to save them… and Derek is one of those people. 

Derek is the person Stiles couldn’t look at while thinking about loss.

He moves forward a step, and Stiles doesn’t retreat this time, amber eyes locked with an expression that’s caught somewhere between challenge and pleading.

It’s one of the most terrifying moments of Derek’s life as he lifts his hand to Stiles’ cheek, and the most natural thing in the world once it’s resting there.

“I’ve died before,” he reminds Stiles, softly. “That’s not about to beat me. I’ll always come back… for you.”

“For me?” Stiles sounds breathless, doubt and hope warring as Derek’s thumb brushes over his tear-streaked cheek.

Derek tilts his head, warmth touching his eyes.

“Don’t be an idiot.”

When Stiles grins and presses their lips together, Derek forgets what it’s like to be afraid.

Prodigy - Teacher AU

“Could you just close the door and come over here? You have no reason to rush out, I didn’t post your grade. I want to discuss it in person.”

You swallowed hard at his words but did as you were told, closing the classroom door and going over to his desk. He was looking through the stack of students’ sketchbooks on his desk, presumably for your own. He pulled one of of the stack and laid it in the middle of his desk, and you froze. 

You could feel all color draining from your face once you noticed which sketchbook he had pulled out of the pile. There was a Hello Kitty sticker stuck to the top right corner of it, indicating it was your sketchbook.

Your personal sketchbook.

word count: 10.1k

genre: fluff & smut (a lot of soft/domestic stuff, concludes w smut)

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{PART 24} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; Despite everything that has gone wrong for you; you feel like life might start to have a better outlook as Jungkook takes all measures to keep you safe. However, a storm is coming; one that grips and pulls at the strongest winter coat…before you find yourself making the biggest mistake of your life to date.

“The lull, or the calm before the storm took it’s place in the atmosphere, in both of their hearts and their minds. ‘Tread carefully’ he warned her, but she slipped from his grasp the moment he blinked”

Not rated M, but be warned there are some scenes of a suggestive sexual nature.

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time) 

{Part 1} // {Part 23} {Part 24} {Part 25}

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Intertwined Destinies I: A Great and Terrible Power

In the ‘Intertwined Destinies’ meta series, I intend on taking a deep dive into the mysterious connection between Rey and Kylo Ren in The Last Jedi. In this first instalment, I cover their pasts - exploring what might have brought Rey and Kylo to where we find them in The Force Awakens, and how their histories may be paralleled and, potentially, overlap.

The Story of Ben

“I’ve seen this raw strength only once before. It didn’t scare me enough then. It does now.”

In The Force Awakens, we get only the vaguest allusion to the tragedy that sent Luke Skywalker into hiding and marked the start of Ben Solo’s descent to the dark side. The explanation comes from Han Solo:

“One boy, an apprentice, turned against him and destroyed it all. Luke felt responsible. He just…walked away from everything.”

That boy, of course, was Ben - Han’s own son and Luke’s star pupil, who Mark Hamill has spoken of in the following terms:

“[Luke] made a huge mistake in thinking that his nephew was the chosen one, so he invested everything he had in Kylo, much like Obi-Wan did with my character. And he is betrayed, with tragic consequences. Luke feels responsible for that.”

This builds up an evocative picture of Ben Solo’s fall that is returned to in the trailer for The Last Jedi, which actually gives the event a different slant. With trailer-appropriate portentousness, we hear Luke speak fearfully of a terrible power that he failed to take seriously enough before. This dialogue is laid over shots of what we must assume is the destruction of Luke’s temple, including this one:

Here, we see Luke clawing his way free from beneath a pile of flaming timbre. This image alone is extremely striking, and raises an interesting possibility for what might have happened at the temple. It has previously been assumed (at least by me) that Luke was absent when Ben enacted his betrayal and killed his fellow Jedi in training, but this shot represents a strike against that interpretation - instead, it suggests something sudden and explosive that took Luke by surprise and unfolded before he could prevent it. 

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Another kinky wager

Summary: As he previously promised, Bucky helps you work out all those irritating little kinks in your pool game.
Characters: Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Absolutely NSFW. It’s all sex and pool tables folks, please walk away unless you’re over 18.  

A/N: Decided to write a follow-up to ‘Pool balls and underpants’, because I just couldn’t move on without a smutty sequel. This can read as a stand-alone story, but it will make more sense why Bucky’s wearing Steve’s underwear if you read the first part. And besides, who doesn’t love reading sassy sexual innuendos from Bucky Barnes?

Also, I meant this to be short, and once again my imagination spiralled out of control, and here we are. I regret nothing.

Pool balls and underpants 
MASTERLIST


He’s startled for a moment, before a sly smile stretches across his face, and he whips around to follow, white socks slipping and sliding on the smooth tiles as he chases after you.

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dissonance [1]

summary: The King of Death finds he can also control life. || hades!bucky x persephone!reader

warnings: none that I can think of

note: Surprise, motherfuckers. This is kind of short [and kind of bad], just a few words shy of 1K. They’ll get longer as the story progresses, but I hope you guys like this. H’s book work isn’t included in this chapter, but he will be featured in some other things, and he did help me write/edit some of this. Let me know what you guys think. Feedback is always appreciated!

PROLOGUE

Originally posted by flyngdream

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anonymous asked:

Hey! If you're still taking prompts, could you write about neil and Andrew having a conversation about Neil's past? Like the stuff he had to do to survive and the stuff he went through with the worlds shittiest parents? Also I'm pretty sure neil has killed people like it makes complete sense so maybe andreil talking about that?

There’s a band of pale blue light nipping at the tops of the trees and sharpening the silhouettes of the houses, but everything else is fresh and dark. Andrew smokes with the pack clenched in his fist, the cherry of the cigarette winking at the street lamps winking at the orange moon.

Their front porch isn’t like the rush of the rooftop, but he can get that same jitter of fear from Neil nowadays, and he’s more portable. He’d left him knotted in the bedsheets an hour ago, and knowing he’s inside somewhere at his back is burning him up. Andrew inhales and focuses on the exhale, the way the smoke still tries to hurt him when it should’ve given up. He likes that nicotine doesn’t leave him alone.

Neil slips out the front door and lets the screen door clatter, and Andrew knows that he’s upset before he sits down two steps below Andrew, holding his own head.

He doesn’t ask; just smokes fervently. The moon bobs its head sympathetically, wind catches the smoke and breaks it over Neil’s head like water on rocks.

It occurs to Andrew that Neil isn’t going to start this conversation, because he likes to think things through on his own, solve them wrong, and tell Andrew about his mistakes later. He’s insufferably convinced of his own problem-solving abilities, then obsessed with the mechanism of his own missteps.

“What?” Andrew asks impatiently. He flicks ash from his cigarette and holds it out in front of Neil’s face. Neil sidles through his own tangled thinking for long enough to glance up. He leans forward and sucks the smoke from between Andrew’s fingers.

When he looks away, gusting smoke from his open mouth, he says, “Matt called. We fought.”

You fought,” Andrew guesses.

Neil looks agitated, blue in the choked light, eyes black and furious. “He was being unfair. He keeps trying to tell me what’s right or wrong lately, because he thinks I’ve been— been deprived, like my experiences were outside of humanity, or morality, and it’s so— condescending.”

“You’re only realizing this now? All of the foxes are condescending. It is the only way they can avoid their own failure.”

“This was different,” Neil says, shaking his head. “I can tell when they’re saying things because they want to see my reaction, and this wasn’t that. He meant what he was saying.”

“And what was that?”

Neil goes gagged silent. He shifts backwards up to Andrew’s stair without looking at him, settling into the groove worn into the wood.

“That killing someone makes you a monster. That murder is the worst thing you can do to a person.”

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The Tea is Decaf

[ao3]

3.7k words
Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen
Based on this text post

Castiel just barely slips out the door into the hallway and turns the knob as he closes it so the latch doesn’t make a sound. The light is always on in the hallway, and Dean always wakes up if too much of it pours into his room, so Castiel has mastered the art of slipping through the smallest space possible.

He breathes a sigh of relief once he’s in the hallway.

A small voice to his right lets out an amused laugh. He turns to see a particularly tiny woman wearing a very large plaid shirt and nothing else. Well, he supposes she could be wearing shorts under the shirt. It really is very big on her.

“You must be Castiel,” she says rather loudly, mispronouncing his name just slightly.

He walks over to her with a finger to his lips.

She puts her hand over her mouth in embarrassment before signing, I’m deaf.

Castiel mouths an “oh” before dropping his head and laughing. He then pops his head back up fast and mouths, “Are you Eileen?”

She nods eagerly and signs, You’ve heard about me?

Sam has mentioned you a few times, he signs back. He says you’re a very good hunter.

Her face lights up. You’re damn right I am. Still, that’s very sweet of him.

So, are you two…? Castiel looks back toward Sam’s room and then down at Eileen’s shirt.

Eileen’s eyes widen in embarrassment. He’s asleep. I was just going to the bathroom.

I was heading to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Would you like some?

Is there caffeine in it?

Not at 4 in the morning.

Eileen smiles and gives him a thumbs up before moving past him toward the bathroom. Castiel watches her go for a second before it hits him.

He looks down at his plain black t-shirt and too-small boxer briefs and wonders if Eileen could tell that these clothes aren’t his. And that he came out of Dean’s room instead of one of the countless other extra bedrooms in the bunker.

By the time Eileen pads into the kitchen, Castiel has two mugs ready with decaf teabags in them and he’s standing at the stove staring at the pot so he can pull it off the burner before it whistles.

It’s only a minute longer before Cas pours the water into the mugs and takes a seat across from Eileen at the kitchen table.

You’re an angel, aren’t you? Eileen asks as her tea steeps.

Castiel nods as he takes a drink.

Does that mean you don’t sleep?

Sometimes I do. I didn’t feel like it tonight.

Is Dean good in bed?

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2

Episode 18 had another good amount of Theo Raeken in it and Cody Christian appeared at his best once again. The episode opens with a scene of the pack and Theo, trying to find the Anuk-Ite’s other half. Theo thinks it’s best to keep an eye on Aaron. We all know that Theo’s plans usually work (and are not connected to gain more power). However, the others remain wary of the chimera. They obviously are not fond of the idea that Theo is right. They even refuse to acknowledge it openly. 

“Is everyone completely shocked that I might be right?”

Theo said, his voice full of disbelief. “No, we just don’t like it.” Scott, however, tries to appease both sides. He says that they could all be right, then sends Mason and Theo on a mission in order to find Aaron.

Both of them are not very keen on spending time with each other, even a blind person could figure that out. Every step Theo takes, everything he does is allegedly connected to his own well-being. He only cares about himself, they claim. He helps them only to save his own ass.

This, however, cannot be true. Ever since Liam brought him back at the end of 6x06, Theo’s personality has altered. Every single one of his actions since then have proven to be altruistic.

He saved Liam Dunbar lest he was taken by the riders. He risked his own life – something he clung to his entire existence. We also have seen how easy it is for the hunters to kill any of them with just one shot. Theo is thus in constant danger, but in lieu of running, he fights back and makes sure that Scott’s pack is safe. A pack he would like to be a part of?

“Maybe I want to be in the pack.”

“Maybe I want to be in the pack,” Theo says to Mason when they went through the dark, eerie tunnels in search of Aaron. Despite the somewhat smug façade adorned by a tat of sarcasm, Theo is genuine. “A pack is about trust,” Mason retorts. They evidently do not trust him due to all the obnoxious things he carried out in the past.  

The closer they get to Aaron, the more afraid they become. Mason remarks how little he trusts Theo; even turning his back to him would be too much to ask. Anxiety overcomes him, caused by the Anuk-Ite. Then, it seems like Theo is on the verge of losing his temper. His digits seem to quiver, his lower lip trembles. A loud, menacing growl emits and razor sharp fangs emerge. The chimera’s eyes growl and for a moment, it appears like Theo’s about to attack Mason.

But he just shoved him away, saving him from Aaron. Mason is injured and in agony. Theo takes his arm, wanting to take the pain away. He fails.

“You can’t take the pain if you don’t care.”

The aghast look on Theo’s face is yet another sign that he actually wants to. Theo wants to care; he just does not know how. His entire existence revolved only around himself. Cody Christian shows that Theo has a heart.

Just consider how upset Theo is in that particular moment. His lips slightly parted, terror and realization mirrored in his eyes. Cody Christian truly becomes Theo Raeken on set and manages to touch the viewers. His acting is more than just good. People just need to realize that. He’d truly deserve an award for his outstanding performance.

There are thus two sides to Theo. One is the smug, apparently selfish façade. The other is the caring one. Theo just needs to figure out what caring and love actually mean.

In the end, Theo and Mason are both injured. The Anuk-Ite injured itself with Theo’s claws in order to find its another half more easily. The scene that followed really made me smile: Mason offers Theo his hand, pulls him up. It closes with both of them sitting next to each other, injured.

Theo’s redemption arc is almost closed. He has been the one saving everyone all the time. Also, Liam seems to be the first person he started to care about. 

A spoiler-free review voted 9/10 for Thiam in episode 20 and mentioned “redemption and tears of joy” as well. Something close to a happy ending for Theo? He’d certainly deserve it.

When it comes to Cody Christian’s acting and his character Theo’s development I would certainly give an 11/10. Theo has a heart. 

Cody Christian shows us that!

His || Jungkook || 0.19

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5 | 0.6 | 0.7 | 0.8 | 0.9 | 0.10 | 0.11 | 0.12 | 0.13 | 0.14 | 0.15 | 0.16 | 0.17 | 0.18 | 0.19 |

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this is for @ilgaksu because she had a bad day and we’ve been chatting spy au and she gave me an idea and i want to cheer her up. all those reasons

Running the surveillance van is generally considered the boring job, but Matt doesn’t mind it. He can people watch to some extent, and he has Neil here to keep him company in watching the screens. It’s quiet and requires no acting, which makes it preferable to being in Andrew’s position right now.

On Matt’s screen, Andrew is leaning back in his seat, cards held in one hand and a low glass next to the other. He’s pretending to be a Russian magnate with a taste for the dirtier side of capitalism and also for killing people he doesn’t like. He looks relaxed, swimming with sharks. Probably because he’s the deadliest predator swimming in these waters.

They’re well into the game in there when Neil says something low in a language that definitely isn’t English, and then, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“What?” Matt asks. He’s instantly alarmed, because it takes a lot to make Neil lose his cool – the last time he said something similar, he was bleeding out from a hole in his gut.  

Neil is already on his feet. “I’ve got to go in there.”

Neil is definitely not supposed to go in there. He’s only here in the van because of a concession on Wymack’s part, mostly because they’d all believed he’d find a way to get involved in the worst way possible if he weren’t included in an official role. Things have gotten a lot more complicated since he and Andrew started working together, including the frequency with which Neil gets bullet wounds.

“You can’t,” Matt says. “You’ve got your orders.”

“Do you really think I care?” Neil replies. “Andrew’s about to get his cover blown, and I can’t warn him from here.”

They couldn’t send Andrew in wearing an earpiece because everyone inside was searched for tech, so the only support they could provide was watching like this. “How do you know you won’t get him killed storming in there right now?”

“What would you do if it were Dan? Sit in your ass here in the van, or go?” Neil asks. Matt looks away from the screen to his face, taking in the brutal determination with which he looks back.

Matt and Dan are married, but he suspects mentioning that might not be worth the air he’d waste in the process. Whatever bond it is that Andrew and Neil have, it’s probably just as significant, as close and as unbreakable. He says instead, “Who did you see?”

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It Wasn’t Real (part nine)

Summary: You’re part of the infamous Loser’s Club, and often asked, what are you afraid of? You reply, nothing, but what your friends don’t know is that your biggest fear is them.

prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - eleven - finale

A/N: ALSO, WARNING: This is kinda seeming like a Stan x Reader with how much i mention Stan but don’t get it twisted: IT WILL BE A RICHIE X READER! It’s just Stan was so close to winning i wanna still make him a strong, prominent character!

I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. It doesn’t have to be long, I appreciate every single comment I receive and telling me just helps inspire me to write it more frequently.

Pairing: Loser’s Club x Reader, slight Henry x Reader (you’ll see) Richie x Reader.

Warnings: force, bullying, depressing and sad tones, and sexual abuse (mild) plus Henry being a dick, so….

Tag’s List: @chalatea - @darlingimafangirl - @chalatea - @myfriendmagislit -@frozenhealswrites - @fl0werb0nes18 - @emotionallyenterprised - @alec-lighwccd - @bellasett - @starshininginthedark - @tastefulcaring - @impulsivesuperrobin - @newtandthediamonds - @huge-waste-of-time​ - @jess-sxcks​ - @theoraekensnotsosecretlover​ - @moonageharry​ - @nieligator​ - @sufferingstilinski​ - @the-fantastic-fandom-dork - @horsiesandstuff​ - @arianamichelle04​ - @alloffmyships​ - @darlingimawriter​ - @gcnnyweasleys​ - @redvelvet-cupcake​ - @almusanzug​ - @d0nt-g0-imagines​ - @brighter-thanthe-sky​ - @murphamy-minefeild​ - @celestesfairy​ - @fly-like-a-grayson​ - @emrysaaryn - @holy-minseok - @antiherojason - @multifandom-states - @mysticsthinking - @ladyfairenvale - @crazyinlovewithbatman - @shaniacboogara - @welcometoourcomputershow - @17marvelousfreak - @funtik2011 - @anon-leaning-against-a-trashbin - @terrashrone - @im-fandom-trash - @mrgrytyrll - @ponyboys-sunsets - @captainslugcat - @eachandeveryfandom - @queenylime - @catwoman2502 - @1enchantedfantasy1
I will no longer be adding anyone!
bolded is who I couldn’t tag.


Originally posted by pettas-fics

You hadn’t realized how late you’d been at quarry, until you stepped back outside. There, standing in the middle of the road stood you, panting and pacing in the stop. The sun was setting and you could feel the cool air breeze in as the warm sun was covered by the dark sky. 

Your mind was running wild. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t think coherently. IT had Stan… while you and everyone else had been bonding at the quarry, Stan had been in danger. And it was all because of you. If you hadn’t dragged him back into this mess, if you’d just left him alone… then none of this would’ve happened. You needed to find Richie, needed to tell him what had happened. But no one else, Richie already knew and that was the only reason why you justified going to him.

You wouldn’t risk the lives of your friends by dragging them back into something they thought was done.

You clenched your fists, nodding to yourself. Richie had only left a little bit ago, if you continued down the path you should be able to reach him before he got home. Then, you’d tell him everything and you’d guys would figure out what to do. So, nodding your head you began walking again, not quite running but your feet carried you along the road quickly. It wasn’t until you reached an alleyway, a alleyway you were sure Richie took home and turned a corner, did you feel your body flying downwards.

Something’d tripped you.

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Zimbits, 1.6K, Jack has a panic attack and ducks into the first closet he finds. Unfortunately, he’s not the only one in there.


The room was suddenly too hot and stifling, and Jack found himself pulling distractedly at his collar. He gulped down his drink quickly, but even that had little effect on his nerves. He scanned the crowd and saw his parents across the room, but they were busy talking to someone else, leaving Jack to deal with the oncoming panic by himself.

Jack started to walk quickly towards the bathrooms which he had passed in the foyer on the way in. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the ladies he’d spoken to earlier, one of his mother’s friends, start to head in his direction, and the curling dread in Jack’s stomach turned to lead. He hastily ran into one of the building’s vast hallways and opened the first door he found.

Once inside, Jack closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the coolness of the door. He could hear the faint click of heels pass the closet he’d ducked into before they disappeared down the other end of the hallway.

After a few minutes though, someone cleared their throat, and Jack realized he wasn’t alone. He blinked unsteadily even though it was completely pitch black, except for the sliver of light that came from underneath the door.

“Uh, I’m afraid I found this hiding spot first,” a voice said hesitantly. The slight, Southern drawl of the vowels caught Jack off guard.

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Out of the Blue 02

Rated: M

Warnings: Explicit vulgar hybrid smut, knotting, dirty talk. 

Summary: Jungkook has only ever thought of his breeding clients as just that - clients, and he’s always quite indifferent to them since he only ever knows them for a short period of time. But then you come along, and he starts experiencing feelings that aren’t being manipulated by your heat. Real feelings, that he has never harbored before with anyone else.

Notes: in a world where shower sex is Effortless. LOLLL also plz enjoy the stereotypical dogs love peanut butter thing in this it brought me joy

Words: 5k

01 | 02


It was silent, save for the light clinking of the spoon Seokjin was using to stir his tea. Namjoon sat at the island in the middle of the large kitchen, staring down at his cup of tea which was untouched, worrying about one thing and one thing only.

“So what do you think they’re doing?”

Seokjin promptly stopped stirring his tea at the question and turned around away from the counter to look at Namjoon, his eyebrow raised and a small smile playing at his lips. “Do you really want me to answer that?” He sauntered over to the island where Namjoon was seated, taking a sip of his tea on the way over.

Sheepishly, Namjoon chuckled and ducked his head, cheeks turning red from the slight embarrassment and scratching the back of his neck. What a foolish question he had asked. “Oh- um, yeah, I guess not.”

“Yeah, they’ll be doing that for awhile,” Seokjin explained in amusement, taking a seat at the island across from him. “But later on, they’ll take a break.. Come downstairs, eat and drink something - recharge, perhaps. Don’t get it twisted though, you won’t be able to…. touch her, if you know what I mean. Not even a rub on the arm. Jungkook will be attached at her hip. He’s very territorial and possessive of his clients, I’m afraid. Well, I’m sure you know that well enough.”

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