i think its time to bed

played comp with The Boys for at least 4 hours (it’s 4am rn) and now i’m back up to my season high ✌️✌️✌️

i don’t like texting because it fosters this idea that we have to be accessible to others and to interaction 24/7??? stop that!!! if im not texting back, it’s not bc i i hate you, it’s because im just chilling, ok? and interacting is draining. i don’t think every person should have to be accessible to everyone that has their number literally every second of every day. stop apologizing for not texting back “on time.” do you, live ya life on your own time okay????

TAURUS: lately life has felt like a carnival ride that you stumbled onto by accident and you don’t understand why everybody else is having such a good time. why everybody else has open-mouth smiles and bright eyes while you’re clutching your lap-bar praying for something to end. it won’t always be like this. the ground isn’t going to perpetually swing around you, stealing your balance and your ability to move as if your existence is something flimsy and disposable. this will all slow down eventually. please stay until then. the view from the top will be worth it.

GEMINI: you’ve taken every offhand remark to heart since the day you were born and your chest has become so heavy that it’s hard to breathe around all of that hurt. you know you don’t have to keep it all hidden, right? storage units exist for a reason: humans were never meant to bear all of their belongings. I know that your statuesque stance is one you’ve been practicing for centuries, but it’s okay to ask for help. nobody is going to be mad at you or think of you as weak for doing so.

CANCER: you’re holding something beautiful and this is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever done. because you’re so used to watching watching eggs roll off the countertop and kisses slip off of your cheek that everything worthwhile seems fleeting. fragile. forced. like the universe is playing a game to see how good you are at playing catch with crystal balls. but you’ve gotta believe in the potential of durability. if you’ve managed to exist for this long without giving up, you must believe in something, and it must be pretty special. don’t lose it now. not after all this time.

LEO: maybe it feels like the april showers will never stop pouring down on you. maybe you keep trying to fix new things with old instruction manuals and end up getting frustrated when the pictures don’t match what’s in front of you. maybe you’re starting to realize that not everything is going to work out the way you need it to and that scares you. it scares you because the last time this happened it almost killed you. but the key word here is almost. you’re more than the rubble you’ve had to sift through and the photographs you’ve had to throw out. you were never meant to burn out. you were designed to endure.

VIRGO: so, you ran away from home. you’re playing hooky from your life because every scenario you’ve found yourself in has ended in blood. and you’re sick of it. you never asked for any of this. but then again, has anyone? I can’t imagine how tiring it must be to build those walls around yourself every morning, before your coffee and your nicotine, before you think about the lover you left behind. have you ever visited the grand canyon? you should. it’s time you found some beauty in what’s below the surface. look at how easy it is to see the sky from here. but please don’t try to fly until you’ve looked down once or twice please.

LIBRA: you ran into the past while crossing the street and you didn’t stop to say hello. were you scared? or were you just waiting for what you abandoned to make the first move? either way, you didn’t say hello and that’s okay. you don’t have to feel shameful about the ugliness of your progress. not everybody’s carriage stays a carriage when the clock strikes midnight. that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. that doesn’t mean it wasn’t real or valuable. you ran into the past while crossing the street and it didn’t hurt you. not this time. not you.

SCORPIO: everybody around you seems to be darting across the universe with their hearts on their sleeves and it makes you feel as though something is wrong with you. as if the molasses town your feet are submerged in is something that you asked for, that you wanted. you know, you don’t have to travel at the speed of light in order to get out of bed in the morning and that’s still something miraculous, especially when every part of you is begging to pull the covers over your eyes and dream a little longer. I’m proud of you for fighting that feeling. I know it’s hard. I know it’s hard.

SAGITTARIUS: I think that it’s time for you to start believing in fairy tales again. do you remember being smaller? looking for magic around every corner? that spark doesn’t leave once you outgrow the disney themed bedsheets and wear holes in the light-up sneakers. nobody needs you to be the grown-up all of the time, it’s okay to let yourself feel lighthearted again. go pick some daisies or buy some gelato. take care of yourself the way you would’ve before the world showed you its shadows.

CAPRICORN: the monsters under your bed have been keeping you awake for months but you don’t have the heart to drive them away. you’ve kinda liked the company. you’ve been throwing them scraps from the dinner table that you couldn’t finish and have taken pleasure in listening to what you couldn’t stomach be put to use. but, baby, you don’t have to be kind to the things that make you shudder in the night. you’re not obligated to give to the things that take and take and take until there’s nothing left. reclaim your bedroom. this, this is yours. it always will be.

AQUARIUS: sometimes you find yourself thinking about the cost of living. how much of yourself you’ve had to trade in order to stay alive. it’s really easy to get angry, when you see that other people have traded so much less and gotten so much more. but don’t let yourself get caught up in the what-if’s because that’s a maze that’ll never let you leave, no matter the strength of the compass you bring with you. forgive yourself for what you’ve had to do to survive. it doesn’t make sense to be ashamed of all you’ve gone through, when everyone else just wants to watch you succeed. we’re rooting for you.

PISCES: you’ve become an expert at mending the bridges that people have burned in your wake and I hope that you see the beauty in that. the talent it takes to reconstruct a pathway between two islands is immense and you’ve forgotten this in all of the excitement. you’ve accomplished great things in such a short time, and it’s breathtaking. truly. when you were born everybody in the room must’ve held their breath, because how could they not see what they were bringing into the world? sure, you’ve caused a few accidents. but you’re working to fix the damage. you’re trying. that’s enough.

ARIES: the clocks have all been telling you that you’re late for figuring yourself out. which is another way of saying that it feels as though time itself has been harassing you because you don’t know who you are yet. and hey, fuck ‘em. time is a construct: while you? you’re here. you’re breathing. you’re taking the alarms and setting them for 12pm because this is your life and you dictate what it’ll be filled with. don’t worry about the calendars or the deadlines. you’ll find yourself when you’re ready. take as many seconds as you need.

ok so hear me out,

the foreshadowing in this is strong ok this is who’s going to win next season; how they’re arranged on the podium.

Yuuri= gold in the middle (ON T O P), Viktor= silver (plAtiNUm), and Yurio= bronze I mean?? like it’s just an idea obviously but WHEN I’M RIGHT O^O BOII i’ll bring this back and it’ll be one of the only things i ever ever got right hopefully maybe 

like this isn’t the only official art they’re in this order either? I know they’ve mixed around some and obviously this is just a natural arrangement bc yuuri is the main character and yadda yadda hOWEVER IT COULD be my bad foreshadowing >-> 

and this post idea has been sitting in my memos for a while now gathering dust (like me in my bedroom gOD) that’s why it’s no good and i’m ….. sorry  uhg

4

Sense8 | All I Want Right Now Is One More Bullet

At least we know the name of the restaurant.

They’ve come back from a case, Rosie long-asleep in the upstairs bedroom where there’s just enough room for her cot and John’s bed, and Sherlock is ranting.

Stupid,” he spits out, pacing to and fro in the living room, his hands in his hair. “Why was she so stupid? Why kill them in the first place, when she knows she’s the best suspect?”

“Well, she loved him,” John offers, even though he knows Sherlock doesn’t really want his opinion.

Sherlock scoffs.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snaps, not even looking at John. “She didn’t love him.”

“What?” John sits up from where he’s been lazing on his chair. “Of course she did. Listen, I know you like to dismiss ‘sentiment,’ Sherlock, but love makes people do crazy things, so-”

“That,” Sherlock says and his voice is flat and angry at the same time, “was not love. That was possession, that was ownership, it may even have been jealousy, but it was definitely not love.” He infuses the word with such contempt that it makes John flinch, but Sherlock is moving again, glaring at the world as though it had personally offended him. “If she loved him, she’d have let him go. She’d have done everything in her power to make sure that he was happy, even if that meant he was with someone else. She’d have killed - she’d have died herself - if it meant that he would have one millimetre more happiness in his life than otherwise. She would have protected his lover with her life, she’d have done absolutely anything in her power to give him anything he wanted. Instead, she killed them both in a fit of jealous rage, because she never really loved him, she loved owning him. Like a favourite pair of shoes, or a pretty picture.”

John is still trying to absorb that rant when Sherlock crosses the room and slams his bedroom door behind him.

John sits in silence for a few moments before heading to bed.

He wakes up an hour later and John Watson has never actually experienced an epiphany before, never experienced that moment Sherlock is always chasing where all the pieces come together and your brain dissolves into fireworks and you know everything but he’s pretty sure that he just had one.

Before he can even think, he’s downstairs, pushing open Sherlock’s door and standing there like a fool.

Sherlock sits up, sleep-mussed and soft, and says “John, what’s wrong? Is it Watson?”

John licks his lips and tries to speak and…nothing.

Tries again.

“You…you love me,” he manages, and it’s a bare whisper, all he can force past the weight in his chest, of ten years of unsaid words. “Sherlock?”

Sherlock is looking at him with horror in his eyes.

“I-I” Sherlock says, and John interrupts him.

“Please say I’m wrong, Sherlock, please say I’m wrong,” and he’s speaking quickly now, tears running down his face unchecked, and his leg gives out and he finds himself on his knees by Sherlock’s bed, a ragged penitent in old pyjamas, prostrating himself before a saint. “Please say I haven’t been wrong all this time, haven’t wasted all these years, please, Sherlock, please…”

He hides his face in Sherlock’s bed, so that he can’t see Sherlock’s eyes, his beloved face creased in confusion.

“John?” Sherlock asks. “I don’t…I don’t understand.”

But John is sobbing too hard to answer, great heaving sobs, and Sherlock puts a hand on the back of his neck that burns like a brand because of course Sherlock would try to comfort him, even though he doesn’t understand what John is on about, even though John has hurt him so terribly so many times.

“I love you,” John gasps into the bed. Sherlock’s hand stills for a moment and then, cautiously, resumes its smooth comforting stroking.

“John, you’re upset,” he begins, but John cuts him off mid-sentence.

“Years, Sherlock, years,” he gasps. It’s becoming easier to speak, the weight on his chest becoming less with every word. “I’ve loved you for years. Since Angelo’s that first night, I think, since the cabbie, since the first time I saw you sleep-soft in morning light. I loved you in Dartmoor and I loved you at the pool - God, how I loved you in that moment, I would have fallen to my knees and worshipped at your feet for the rest of my life and I would have been content. I loved you on the roof of Bart’s and on the pavement a moment later. I loved you every moment of every day you were gone, and I loved you every time I stood in front of your grave and begged you for one more miracle, and I loved you when I punched your face because it was that or kiss you, and I loved you when you were bleeding out in Magnussen’s office. I loved you on Magnussen’s porch and I loved you on the tarmac, and I loved you in the morgue and in the hospital and in the prison and the well and I’ve loved you every moment since the day I met you, I love you I love you I love you.”

He doesn’t stop so much as run out of breath, chanting those three words - three words he’d never thought he’d be able to say - like prayer, John is a monk and this is his religion now, this is his faith, this only thing he knows for sure.

“John,” Sherlock breathes. “Why didn’t you…”

“I thought,” and John is trying to think of a way to say this right, a way to really explain, “I thought that you didn’t…I didn’t think you didn’t love me, but I thought you wanted me as a friend, just a friend, and so I tried to be the best friend anyone could ever have, but obviously I’m pretty shit at it, but I tried and I hid it, and hid it, and I married Mary because I thought…I thought I’d break apart from missing you and later I thought I’d die from wanting you, and I couldn’t bear to lose you but I was losing you anyway, but the surest way to lose you was to tell you, you didn’t feel the same, you didn’t want the same things, and that’s the best way to kill a friendship, and if friendship was all I could-”

And John shuts up, because Sherlock has slithered out of his bed and fallen to his knees in front of John, and stopped his panicked babbling with his mouth.

When Sherlock finally pulls back, John stares at him, shocked into silence.

“So many years,” Sherlock says, stroking a thumb over John’s lips. “We could have had so many years, John. If only we hadn’t been…”

“Afraid,” John supplies. Sherlock nods, and he’s so close that his nose rubs against John’s when he does, and it’s unbearably intimate. “We could…” And John has to stop for a moment to breathe, to lick his lips and gather his courage in his hands. “We could still have years,” he says. “If I’m not too late. If you still-”

And Sherlock doesn’t say anything with words, but when he kisses John, he writes eloquent poetry in this new language they are building together.

Yes, he says as he licks into John’s mouth

I want, he says, as he sucks a bruise into John’s neck.

I still, he whispers into the curve of John’s ear. I still love you. I will always love you.

anonymous asked:

Is it just me, or does it feel like Jungkook and Hobi don't have very many moments?

OMG ANON ARE YOU ASKING ME TO SPAM YOU WITH JUNGHOPE MOMENTS? Okay anyways, to address the question, I know it might seem like Junghope have very few moments but I assure you they actually have quite a lot. Like suga/kookie, Junghope has a lot of behind the scenes/background and subtle moments that are hard to notice if you don’t actively look for it. Their moments have been more obvious lately but even back then, there were quite a lot. It’s been mentioned several times by different members that Hobi and Kook were extremely close predebut and that Hobi was the one that Kook let loose around and relied on. Now is about the time where I spam you with Junghope. So here we go~

Throwback Junghope they were super close

Junghope since Rookie King Days Hobi pulling him in by the neck ;-; (I found this gif on google images and it’s from We Heart It I really have no idea who made this gif)

This actually happened….

(Cr. @/janice0chung0) I mean come on, look at the stares. 

Never forget Now3.

This actually happened too.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Au where petunia is a witch and lily is a muggle?

When the letter arrives, Lily is almost as excited as Petunia. She writes Albus Dumbledore to ask if she can go to, and if she cries a little when the answer comes back no she doesn’t tell anyone. Lily waves from the train platform, writes diligently, and listens with excitement whenever her big sister deigns to share stories of magic.

Petunia gets Sorted Slytherin, where she falls into a mutually-venemous friendship with Severus Snape, who she had considered dirty and poor when he was skulking around Lily in their little neighborhood, lighting leaves on fire like a baby arsonist, but who now seems like the best ally in a pool of ugly little fish.

The blood-purists are their normal asshole selves, which Petunia responds to with busybody eavesdropping, cruel gossip, and manipulative emotional bullying. Severus calls her mudblood in their fifth year (it’s not the first time) and joins the Death Eaters. Tuney calls him a greasy git of a wanker and they still have lunch away from prying eyes now and then.

When the war comes, Petunia does not fight in it. She marries a Hufflepuff boy named Vincent Dunsley who spends their entire first date telling her about his junior position in the Ministry and his planned thirty-six bureaucratic steps to the top of the food chain. Vincent has no problem with Muggleborns, or at least not ones who behave as properly as Petunia.

Lily does fight. She’s been reading the Daily Prophet for years as she sits through history class dreaming of brooms and punching bullies on the playground. At seventeen, she writes Albus Dumbledore again. When he still writes back no, she packs a bag and shows up on the Order’s doorstep.

Alice Longbottom gives her a place to stay, some spare robes, and teaches her how to fly– Lily hopes, wrapped in a warm blanket while they sip cocoa and discuss action plans, that if she’d gone to Hogwarts she’d have been good enough to get Sorted Hufflepuff. Frank beams at his wife in the dim yellow light.

Of the Marauders, Lily meets Sirius first– shaggy hair and strong bones, he’s a tall glass of water and he’s anxiously watching a skinny, scarred boy sleep on the sofa. They’re an hour off a mission and Remus crashed as soon as they got back to headquarters. The first thing Sirius Black, troublemaker and risktaker, says to her is “Shh! You walk like an elephant.”

She’d snap back, but Remus does look that worn down, curled on the cushions.

Peter and James are in the kitchen, shoveling sandwiches down their gullets that are the size of their heads. James staggers to his feet when she comes in. “Hi. Uh, new recruit?”

“Something like that.”

James shoves his hair out of his eyes with one hand and thrusts the other one out in her direction. “James Potter,” he says. “Beauxbatons? I don’t think I ever saw you at Hogwarts.”

She grins. “Lily Evans,” she says. “Cokeworth. And I’d shake your hand, but you’ve got mustard on it.”

Lily defies the Dark Lord and his forces three times, with James’s wand at her back, with Remus’s and Sirius’s and Peter’s. They tell her about Hogwarts and its secrets, and she brings them Muggle candy bars and the boxes of X-Men comic books from under her bed. No one gets chocolate smudges on her pages, under threat of James’s disappointed-in-you face, which he’s been practicing.

Severus Snape hears about a Muggle Evans on the warfront. “Petunia’s not a Muggle,” he snaps when Dolohov mocks him for it, but Crabbe cradles his broken arm and keeps talking– about green eyes, red hair like a war banner– and Severus’s stomach sinks low in his gut, cold and aching.

Severus Snape overhears a prophecy and he tells it to his Lord. Lily Evans Potter is the mother of a halfblood boy with a mess of dark hair. Lily is in Augusta Longbottom’s living room, playing peekaboo with Harry and Neville, because Alice and Frank are already in St. Mungo’s, because she does not know that she is soon to be not a soldier but a fugitive. Her child has no scars, yet.

On Halloween night 1981, Tom Riddle goes to the Godric’s Hollow home that Peter Pettigrew betrayed. He kills James in the front room, wand in hand. He kills Lily in the nursery, after giving her a chance to step aside. He tries to kill Harry, but he fails.

Harry goes to his closest living relatives– his aunt Petunia, uncle Vincent, and cousin Dudley. He sleeps in a little room just off the kitchen, which he thinks used to be a broom closet. They hate the attention he brings when he’s dragged behind his aunt at the grocery store, so they leave Harry home when they go to Diagon Alley, Ministry potlucks, or the evening shows that Dudley fusses through, fists full of pumpkin pasties.

Harry knows how to wash dishes by hand, how to cook bacon without burning it (most mornings), and how to capture the spiders in the broom closet and escort them carefully outside. For his birthday Dudley gets a toy broom. For his, Harry gets an Albus Dumbledore Chocolate Frog card because Dudley already has fifteen and didn’t want that one. Petunia likes to peer over the hedge into the yard of Mrs. Figg, the squib who lives next door, and snigger about how she has to do her laundry without magic.

When Harry is ten years old, his Hogwarts letter comes in the mail and the Dunsleys are surprised. “I wasn’t sure,” Petunia sniffs. “I mean, with my sister’s blood in you and everything, anything could have happened.”

Inquisitive

tried to watercolor this guy without the help of pen lineart. kinda tough and a little confusing at first, but got the hang of it during the progress~ even tho the ribs and hands are a little messy, it still turned out great~

i always wonder about what discourse would be like in the x-men universe. like, “mutant positivity isn’t for you if you’re human passing!” and “shoutout to all the mutants with boring powers that won’t help you save the world!” and awful quotes put over pictures of mystique and people making anything deadpool says into a meme, like literally anything, and people having full on Bad Discourse over the cure can you even imagine

i’ve been listening to romanian songs again, including that one B)

cassian/jyn fic recs by MUTUAL PINING TROPES

I told an anon that I wouldn’t be doing this, yet here we are. This fic rec list is dedicated to fandom’s dedication to mutual pining + tropes that shove Cassian and Jyn together. All are either post-Scarif AUs, or canon missing scenes.

In brief:

fake making-out
like real people do by mollivanders ( @ladytharen​​) 3.4K
It’s a Classic for a Reason by mosylu ( @mosylufanfic​​). 0.4K, oneshot
Faking It by mosylu ( @mosylufanfic​) 2.8k, oneshot

sharing a bed
The Second Mission: Cold and Codependent by angel_deux. 26K words, complete.
semantics (series) by katsumi ( @leralynne​​). 4 oneshots.
the quiet we hold by ithacas ( @dazy-laze​​). 12K, oneshot
Cold, Cold Nights by Felurian. 2.4K, oneshot
we were secrets to keep by mollivanders ( @ladytharen​​)
Finding Myself (And Maybe You) (series) by Copper_Nails (Her_Madjesty) ( @coppernailpolish​​). 5 oneshots.
Remastered by Lafayette1777 ( @lafayette1777​​) 9.7K, oneshot
5 times Cassian and Jyn shared a bed by Moonprincess92 ( @moonprincess92nz​​) 4K, oneshot
Crash into You by jeeno2 ( @jeeno2) 8K, complete
the benefits of conversation by ignitesthestars ( @ignitesthestars​​). 1k, oneshot
falling together by ninemoons42 ( @ninemoons42) 4.7K, oneshot
Before I Wake, Before the Dawn by redfantasyfox ( @redfantasyfox​) 6K, oneshot

fake relationship
compromise by ignitesthestars ( @ignitesthestars​​). 2.6K, WIP

hurt/comfort (i.e. taking care of one another)
cover me, I’ll cover you by mollivanders ( @ladytharen​) 3.4k, oneshot
Hoarse by Selkit ( @coppermarigolds​). 2k, oneshot
Bloody Little Worms by Kobo ( @rxbxlcaptain​). 2.7K, oneshot
Closer by muggleindenial28 ( @jyn-mother-fucking-andor​). 3.3K, oneshot
what is decayed in you shall be made clean by imgoingtocrash ( @imgoingtocrash​) 2.3k, oneshot.
Two Hours by vaultfox ( @vaultfox​) 4.4K, oneshot
flight lessons by ignitesthestars ( @ignitesthestars​) 1K, oneshot
There For You by guineapiggie ( @ruby-red-inky-blue). 1.9K, oneshot

back from the dead
We Can Turn Over and Start Again by kyrdwyn. 13K, WIP
you are your father’s daughter by gingergenower ( @gingergenower​​). 1K, oneshot
Fifteen Days by clashofqueens. 1.1K, oneshot
untitled by @hurricanedancer​​. oneshot.

caught in the act
Caught in the Act by jeeno2 ( @jeeno2). 700 words, oneshot
A Million More Deaths by starforged ( @starforged​​) 3.2K, oneshot
‘cause i’ve been banging on the walls, i’m too dry to cry by youareiron_andyouarestrong ( @youareiron-andyouarestrong​). 500 words, oneshot

sex pollen
Dust by impertinence ( @stopthatimp​). 1.6K, oneshot
Color My Cheeks by Copper_Nails (Her_Madjesty) ( @coppernailpolish) 29K, complete

mutual pining co-dependence (that doesn’t fit anywhere else)
run to me in the rising dawn by katsumi ( @leralynne​) 4.9k, oneshot
Alternatively, by ibohemianam. 10K, WIP
We’ve Been Here Before by angel_deux. 2.5k, complete
my knees are cold (running home) by filzsimmons ( @jynersq). 7.3K, oneshot
Take Shelter by nymja ( @gizkasparadise​) 20K, complete

Notes on the recs below:

Keep reading

What does Daddy/Mommy do when their Princess/Prince is sleeping?

• Goes back and re-reads all of our messages
• Looks at all the cute pictures we have saved from our Love bugs wishing they were sleeping right next to us
• Thinks about hugging/holding/cuddling Kitten, watching their favorite Disney movies/tv shows
• Remembers all the time spent with the Little One and replays the memories over and over again
• Listens to music that reminds us of our Angel
• Watch Disney movies/shows to put us in our daddy/mommy space and act like Baby is right there with you
• Cuddles stuffed animals/pillows, pretending it’s our Little Girl/Boy
• Read their favorite bed time stories, as if they were there
• Become a Lonely Daddy/Mommy without their Princess/Prince to protect them from the monsters. We need protection, too..
• Send them cute messages while they sleep so they have something to wake up to, knowing they were thought of/missed

Mommies/Daddies get lonely, too!! To all the littles who may be self concious about being needy.. we are needy, too! We always want your attention, even if we’re busy, we’re still thinking about you precious angels.

Angsty OTP Prompts:
  • "Sorry I ruined your life. Maybe you shouldn't have married me."
  • "If I would've known he was going to die, you think I would've done it?"
  • "It's nothing against you...I just have to leave."
  • "I know you love me, but I'm sick of lying when I say it back."
  • "That's the problem. I love you so much, I'd be willing to die for you."
  • "I'm sorry I made you into who you are today."
  • "People change, and people grow. And I think we just grew apart."
  • "When I look at you, I see my world and that scares the sh*t out of me."
  • "I don't think I can spend another night in the same bed as the man/woman who ruined my life"
  • "I always told her to quit second guessing herself...and she never listened"
  • "I'd rather die than live in a world like this."
  • "Tell me what they did to you, please."
  • "Sorry just isn't going to work this time."
  • "Her parents always hated me, I guess they were right."
  • "The one you love most isn't always the one you spend your life with...and that sucks."
  • "I'll go home, but it's not home unless you're there..."

xjustfandomx  asked:

Hi! So I always go to your blog when I need cheering up because it's so full of life and fun so I wanted to ask if you have any long fluffy pack fics with sterek just the pack sticking up for eachother I've had a rough time with my 'friends' this week and I just need some pack being close and loving thank you!

I’m so sorry about your friends. Hopefully things have gotten better. Either way here’s some pack as family fluff for you. - Anastasia

Originally posted by whatthehellbells

Feels Like Belonging by nan

(1/1 I 2,513 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles isn’t sure why all these werewolves think they have access to his bed. The explanation is just. Weird.

The Alpha by SereneCalamity

(1/1 I 2,683 I Explicit I Sterek)

People were sometimes to surprised when they realized who the Alpha of Beaconhills was.

They Were Pack by Shippings_galore

(1/1 I 3,544 I General I Sterek)

Stiles gets the new pack to go to prom. Lydia invites the old pack members (that we all miss and love), not telling him (or the new pack) that she had also invited a certain Sourwolf.

Building Blocks by Lisztful

(1/1 I 5,417 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles doesn’t exactly mean to start cleaning up after everybody, it’s just that, well, sometimes he thinks Derek turned them into actual animals.

hooked on (dangling by a yarn) by extantecstasy

(1/1 I 19,132 I Teen I Sterek)

One hundred days, ten scarves, one Christmas, and Stiles’ dormant magic has to ruin everything.

ladybugs by thepsychicclam

(1/1 I 20,273 I Explicit I Sterek)

It’s Saturday night, and Derek Hale is at Toys R Us. Shopping for Leapfrog games. If asked, it wasn’t exactly how he pictured his life. Or his Saturday nights.

In which Derek and Stiles have been married for ten years, have two kids, and are planning their five year old’s birthday party.

The Hale House of Mythical Creatures by Demimonde (Katherene)

(16/? I 38,224 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles is eight when his mom dies.

Stiles is eight when his dad drops him off on the Hale’s front porch and then leaves him there.

This is the story of a little lost Spark growing up in a place that might have been made for him all along.

Living With Lycanthropy by WhoNatural

(1/1 I 44,095 I Explicit I Sterek)

Wherein they both own bakeries, Stiles tries not to run his grandmother’s legacy into the ground, Laura wants to be a better alpha, and Derek can’t seem to get Stiles’ attention the regular way - so naturally, he accidentally initiates a prank war.

(Or, if Teen Wolf was more like Gilmore Girls, with everyone far too invested in whether the Hale boy and the Sheriff’s kid will work it out, and Laura Hale wrote a handbook for alpha werewolves.)

The Littlest Alpha by triedunture

(16/16 I 52,508 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek and Stiles have taken out the Alpha Pack and pretty much saved the world. Okay, the town. Okay, their remaining friends. But the Alphas left something behind: a baby. And this baby is an Alpha too. Derek is determined to take care of the abandoned child, and Stiles is stuck going along for the ride.

But Stiles doesn’t expect the ride to include seeing another side of Derek, or to find another way to say “family.”

Future Dreams by littlefrog1025

(14/14 I 74,773 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles accidentally summons he and Derek’s children from the future to the present.

between the click of the light and the start of the dream by thepsychicclam

(10/10 I 105,192 I Explicit I Sterek)

A twig snaps, and then Stiles hears breathing and the rustle of leaves. He strains to get a better glimpse into the darkness, but it’s pointless. There’s nothing but a black void.

It’s Stiles’ senior year, and he’s trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he’s being haunted by a hag. Great.

Sappy Mushy Romantic-Jughead Jones

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: Reader sucks at getting sleep, but her boyfriend’s shirt keeps her warm n cozy (”is that my shirt?” prompt, requested). Basically fluff with little to o plot, its literally less than 500 words bc I couldn’t think of a creative or original plot so enjoy my sucky writing! hope you like it @ anon!!!

Warnings: none, unless swearing counts

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An irritating buzzing sound was the first thing I heard when I woke up Friday morning. I groaned in protest at my alarm clock, blindly reaching for my phone and checking the time.6:15
Great, I had literally only gotten two hours’ worth of sleep. Today was going to suck ass.
I sat up in my bed, yawning, and staring at the wall across my room for a solid minute before getting up and grabbing some clothes from my closet, throwing little to no effort in what I wore. Today’s pick was a pair of ripped black skinny jeans and a navy-blue sweater. Not far from what I usually wore, except a little more boyish and the sweater was huge on me. I tiredly made my way to my bathroom, brushing my teeth and putting my hair up, and doing a very minimal amount of makeup, just some mascara and concealer, really. I had stayed up all night, but that was my business, and I didn’t need people poking and prodding and asking questions.
There was a knock at my door before my boyfriend, Jughead Jones, stuck his head in.
“Hey, I’m a bit early today, but I have some news about Jas- Is that my shirt?” I raised my eyebrow and looked back down at the sweater, realization hitting me.
“Huh, guess it is.” I shrugged my shoulders, too tired to be embarrassed.” I can change if you w-“
“No! No, no, it’s okay, really.” Jughead smiled, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.” I mean, you should wear it, it looks nice, really brings out your eyes…..” Jughead trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.
“Is the Jughead Jones suggesting that his girlfriend play the disgustingly cheesy wear-your-boyfriend’s-clothes card?” I taunted, stepping closer to my boyfriend. Jughead scoffed unconvincingly, sputtering.
“Please? Me? You’re crazy.” Jughead crossed his arms.
“Oh, Juggie.” I sighed happily, uncrossing his arms and intertwining his fingers with mine.” Underneath that cold, hard, edgy exterior you cover yourself in, there’s a sappy, mushy romantic, begging to break out.” I teased my boyfriend, standing on the tips of my toes and pressing my lips lightly to the bottom of his jaw, the only place I could reach.
“We should get going, I wanna go to Pop’s and get breakfast.” Jughead tilted his head down to look at me, a slight smile playing on the ends of his lips. I leaned against his chest, puckering mine slightly. Jughead rolled his eyes, the smile becoming bigger, and leaned down to give me a quick kiss. I grabbed my backpack from my bed and followed my boyfriend down the stairs and out my front door, walking hand in hand to our favorite diner.

2

pockethaus!