not trying to sound like a creeper or anything but it's true

alphaandhismate  asked:

Hey Rachel got a question for ya. Do you think Stiles would feel inadequate compared to all the buff sexy werewolves and push himself​ to the breaking point trying to look like he belongs? Cause I have this headcanon where he decides to work out to make himself look like he belongs beside the wolves but it doesn't work out to well and he winds up doing more harm than good. Which upsets Derek when he finds out (because he loves the idiot but he won't admit it)

Aw I can absolutely see this. Stiles, already prone to insecurity and the feeling of not being good enough, slowly being worn down by that itching knowledge in his skull of being that he’s not as strong as any of his friends, not as attractive as any of his friends, and sure as hell not as useful as any of them, right? Sure, he’s smart. He knows that. But what the hell use is that in battle? He can’t dive in front of a bullet to keep the others from hurting, can’t stand beside the others and fight at anything close to their level.

And no matter how much he smirks at enemies’ jibes and plays off as enjoying being the group’s token human (”means I get to leave all the heavy lifting to you guys, right?”) it’s a feeling that would keep building up over time, pushing at the back of his skull every time the pack insists he be left behind on a certain mission, that he should stay where he’s safe, or gets offhandedly told he’ll just slow the others down. Every time they go running out in the preserve and he gets to sit behind and watch the car. Every time he goes out with the group and finds himself wondering what he looks like in everyone else’s eyes: this circle of beautiful beyond belief, supernaturally perfect people and then… him.

He couldn’t share his worries with the others –– Scott would get that worried look in his eyes and insist Stiles is perfect the way he is. Lydia might not share the same speed and strength as the others but she’s always been supernaturally beautiful, and she’s got her own banshee tricks to help out in a fight. So he keeps it inside, bottles it up… and he starts to push himself. Stays after school lifting weights until his limbs are wrecked from it, goes out running until his legs are shaking under him. Thinking one more lift, one more mile, one step closer to belonging.

And it starts working, too. He’s able to keep up with the pack sometimes, on their more casual runs. He’s gaining muscle, losing any last hints of baby fat. But there are hollowed shadows under his eyes too and he’s not eating enough, probably, but that’s fine. It’s fine when he wrestles with Liam and ends up with a purpled bruise blooming out across his ribs from a too-hard tackle. It’s fine that he can’t really sleep anymore because his muscles are always burning. It’s fine because he’s started looking at pictures of the group after pack events and almost seeing a group of people who fit together, not a handful of perfect people around a lanky, awkward him. Who the hell wouldn’t sacrifice a little comfort and the ability to lift his arms above his head for that?

.-

Derek’s the one who notices first, because of course he is. Drops in through the bedroom window one night like the supernatural stalking creeper he used to be, and finds Stiles collapsed to an exhausted heap against the side of his bed. Too tired and too sore to have stripped off his sweat-stained shirt or make it the extra step to lay down on it. He forces a smile when he spots Derek, but it’s more pained than it should be. Wavers at the edges. Derek ignores his opening jibe, doesn’t comment on the way Stiles tries to push himself up on unsteady palms and falters, a spasm of motion that starts and dies just as fast. Just moves silent, sits down next to him on the floor at the foot of the bed. There’s a world of words in his silence, a disapproving air Stiles can feel deep in his bones, and he finds himself saying “I’m fine,” low and head ducked, like it’s a lie.

It’s not a lie. But it’s not exactly true either, is it?

Derek’s eyes are on Stiles’ face now, flicking down his damp shirt, over his faintly trembling limbs, and it’s like he’s seeing too much suddenly, seeing through walls Stiles is too tired to pull up. People aren’t supposed to see him at this point in the day; they’re supposed to see him in the morning when he has the energy to grin and bounce and keep up with the rest of them like it’s effortless. They’re not supposed to see the tired bruises under his eyes or the way he shakes from hours of trying to hold himself at a werewolf’s level.

He wets his lips, a flash of frustration burning bitter through him.

“Look, I’m not strong like you guys.” It’s not news. It’s been a constant refrain for the past two years of his life, ever since Scott was bit and turned into a superhero sports star girl magnet and left Stiles standing awkwardly in his dust. Stiles couldn’t ask for the bite, Scott wouldn’t understand. And he doesn’t think he wants it either, not really. He doesn’t want the claws or the anchors or the pulls to the moon. He just wants to be able to keep up with them. Wants to not be the funny one in a group of supermodels. Doesn’t want to be the weak one in a group of heroes. Doesn’t want to be the one holding them back.

He bites over a frustrated sound, frowns at Derek’s faintly pinched brows, manages to lift one bone-dead arm and snaps out even more harshly: “I’m not… hot.”

It’s not the whole issue, it barely touches the issue, but it’s too much already and he scowls after he says it, daring Derek to snort or mock him or roll his eyes and agree, obviously, but that searching look only seems to sink deeper and Derek murmurs, “You’re wrong.”

Which is just… it’s worse than laughing. Because Stiles could handle people dismissing him, mocking him. He’s used to that. What he can’t take is Derek fucking Hale feeling so goddamned bad about his patheticness that he’s reduced to lying to try and comfort him.

“Oh, right, sure. I’m hot. You guys are all freaking Greek gods with all the muscle and the… faces.” He snorts, falling back against an overworked spine that protests the pressure. “You can’t even talk. You’ve always been the hottest person ever. You’ve got no idea what it’s like to be the one no one ever wants.”

Derek’s eyes flick down Stiles again, reassessing, and Stiles winces over the realization that Derek’s trying to find something, anything likable on his wiry frame.

Don’t––” He starts, because he physically cannot handle that, but Derek’s saying “You’re wrong,” again, and it’s soft and warm in a way that doesn’t sound like pity.

But Stiles doesn’t let himself feel it. The “oh yeah?” he shoots back is sure and challenging, almost smug in its confidence because maybe he’s not beautiful beyond all reason like the man next to him, maybe he’s not strong and desirable and wanted but at least he’s smart enough to realize that.

Derek lets out a growl of frustration and turns where he’s sitting, crowds in close with palms pressed to either side of Stiles’ thigh, and Stiles is on the edge of rolling his eyes because does Derek seriously think he can intimidate Stiles into changing his mind about himself, but then “you’re wrong” falls out a third time, a too-warm growl of a whisper, and Derek closes the space between their lips.

Stiles loses his conviction in the contact.

Derek’s hands move over him while they kiss, dragging soothing tips and scolding pinches over his wrecked muscles in ways that leave him groaning, touches sinking you’re beautiful and you’re wanted under his skin in ways the best words probably never could. Hands trail down to play across Stiles’ fingers, silently praising the cleverness of them. Beard-rough lips drift up to kiss across his temple and a warmth of admiration seems to melt into him with each press. And Stiles can barely move, arms aching protest as he lifts them to thread into Derek’s hair, body quivering in ways that shift between exhaustion and want.

When Derek finally leans back Stiles whimpers, wanting more but too worn down to chase him. But Derek’s watching him from inches away in the dark room, and there’s no reflected flaws in those dark eyes now. Just you’re beautiful, you’re wanted. You’re important

Stiles runs light thumbs down Derek’s beard, lets out a light laugh he barely recognizes.

“Guess I believe you,”

(And from now on, on nights when the pack goes out running, Stiles and Derek find a more interesting way to occupy themselves by the cars.)

The Only Exception (Part 5)

Summary: AU. Reader is given the task of running a popular love advice internet show when her coworker is fired. Her cynical attitude toward love makes her offer some harsh advice, and more than a few hearts are caught in the aftermath. Will hers be one of them?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3,844

Warnings: language, fluff, angst, sarcasm, hot firemen, draaaamaaaa, did i mention angst? this is getting ridiculous.

A/N: Cliffhangers are mostly unintentional. I got so many ACK HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME messages that I wanted to post the next part. Warning: it’s mostly just to move the plot along.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 -

Originally posted by sebuttianstans

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Coming Home (Derek/Stiles)

Anonymous said: Derek/Stiles “That wasn’t very subtle.”

Nonnie, I hope you enjoy this story! I was in the mood for something romantic and fluffy. This is Fic #40 in my 2017 Prompt Challenge

Coming Home. Derek/Stiles. Teen. Also on AO3.

Stiles has been out of town for three weeks due to work, but now he’s home and ready to see Derek.

It’s been three weeks since Stiles has been to Derek’s apartment. No, not quite that. More like eighteen days, but it feels like a lot longer. He’s gotten used to spending most of his time here since he started dating Derek several months ago because Stiles is still living with his dad.

Well, not really still since he did move out for college, then he had the FBI training to deal with, and he got assigned to a field office in Philadelphia after he finished with that. It’s only been six months since he got reassigned to the resident agency in Redding, which would seem like a demotion on paper, but it’s actually a really awesome promotion.

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2

This is long and I don’t even know why! :P It has a lot of Bughead’s friends, a lot of Reggie (cause I love the guy), Archie’s birthday party for Jughead, many smutty mentions and it turns a tad steamy at the end! Thank you so much to the both of you for your lovely words, darlings!! I hope all of you enjoy! <3


“Alright, I know that with Jason’s current RIP situation my question could be considered blasphemous, but I’m so dying to ask, no pun intended. How fiery was the Blossom ginger in bed after all, P?” Veronica smirked foxily, her attention solemnly focused on perfecting the burgundy nail polish on her toes.

“I’m still in the room you know.” Cheryl’s voice came cold and annoyed from behind her, the redhead beauty dropping dramatically the Vogue magazine she was reading on her bare legs that seemed to go for miles on the beige sofa she was occupying. The brunette just shot her a look over her shoulder.

“Well, nobody invited you in this room to begin with.” Sarcasm and New York attitude mixed in a perfect combination, Veronica knew how to push the bottoms of her frenemy like a pro.

Cheryl just scoffed, her attention going back to an article about belts and pricey pashminas, Veronica mouthed a ‘thank you’ in mockery and Betty let a soundless chuckle. The night was indeed going to be fun.

It was a night filled with giggles and girly banter inside the Lodges’ luxurious apartment at the Pembrooke. After seeing Polly’s utter happiness at the baby shower, the older girl just longing to have her sister and friends close after spending years in the solitude of that god-forsaken place her mother had forced her into, the gatherings of the three girls, along with party-crasher Cheryl, were frequent and very much enjoyed by all to say the truth. Alice Cooper was starting to get a tad more lenient too, seeing as Betty was standing her ground and dreading the possibility of losing both her daughters, so tonight Betty Cooper had an allowance slip to spend the night at Veronica’s for a much needed and ridiculously girly slumber party.

The apartment’s spacious living room was transformed so only the beige sofa was in its original place but with comfy mattresses laid in front of it and covered with a sea of colorful puffy pillows and warm knitted blankets and duvets, creating a cozy huge bed for all the girls to rest on. The Lodge women had gone all out with the food too; colorful cupcakes and any flavor milkshakes, chocolate donuts, all kinds of sweets and candies, salty treats, pop-corns, nachos, you name it. There was even a large plate of chocolate brownies exclusively for Polly, since they were her favorite and she was always craving them now that she was expecting. Betty felt eternally grateful for what Veronica and her mom were doing for her sister. Of course they had helped themselves to everything while watching a couple of classic rom-coms, the light entertainment making them forget the crazy world they were living in and actually have a laugh, and now that Hermione had retired to her own room for the night, the girls found the opportunity to move on to the most cliché part of the night; beauty and boys talk.

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dean/cas fic: This Story has a Happy Ending (3.4k, nsfw)

magical healing cock fic: 3.4k, very nsfw, inspired by this tumblr post.

[AO3]


“You gotta be shitting me,” Dean says.

Cas just stares at him. The kitchen tries valiantly to fill the silence, the lights humming overhead and the fridge kicking on with a dull rattle. Dean leans back against the counter, poking a bag of chips with his elbow. Finally, Cas crosses his arms and says, “No, I’m not… shitting you.”

“Cas, you – you.” Sighing, Dean rubs his hand over his face. “That’s crazy.”

“The Mark is evil,” Cas says gravely, which – yeah. Dean already knows that, thanks. “We can’t do anything about its taint, not unless we find a cure, but the side effects –”

“I’m fine.”

“– anger, anxiety, irritability, irrationality –”

“Hey.”

“– insomnia, restlessness, mood swings, violent tendencies –”

“Okay, okay,” Dean says quickly. “I know I haven’t exactly been a ray of sunshine, but I don’t see how that –” Dean waves his hand around; he can’t make himself say it, not to Cas “– is gonna help.”

“Orgasms are relaxing,” Cas says, deadpan as anything. Dean’s brain short-circuits for a second, like it can’t decide if it wants to be embarrassed or turned on. “They release endorphins, prolactin, oxytocin –”

“Okay, Bill Nye. That’s enough boring science talk.” Sighing again, Dean glances around the kitchen so he doesn’t have to look Cas in the eye. This might be the most awkward conversation he’s ever had, and he gave the sex talk to Sam and Ben.

“Dean, I –”

“Look, if you really think it’ll help, I’ll just – you know –” Dean makes half a rude gesture “– a couple times a week, and –”

“You haven’t been.”

That’s true; Dean hasn’t been. Probably hasn’t in about a month. However: “How the hell do you know that? Are you – we talked about this. You can’t just snoop in people’s brains.”

Cas has the nerve to look offended. “I haven’t snooped. Your brother suspects –”

“You talked to Sam?”

“Well, I couldn’t talk to you,” Cas snaps. “You’ve never been forthcoming, but recently – you refuse to have a serious conversation about anything.”

More silence: Dean deflates a little, nudged off-balance by the soft, sad downturn of Cas’ mouth. He knows he’s been kind of a dick the last few months; he’s just so tired of all this Cain bullshit. He’s tired of the constant slow burn on his arm, and he’s tired of Sam and Cas watching him like he’s going to snap and pull a Jack Torrance at any minute. As ridiculous as the idea sounds, Cas is only trying to help.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean says. “Okay.”

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anonymous asked:

HP AU. Makoto is Hufflepuff. Sousuke is Gryffindor. Others: Gou/Nagisa/Momo are Gryffindor. Nitori/Rei are Ravenclaw. My favorite house Slytherin gets Haru/Rin.

Ooh, I have a good idea for this one! 

One Hogwarts!AU coming up!

I had so much fun with this one! Especially Rin! I’ve never written Rin as much as I have the others, but it was a nice experience! I hope you like it and please come again if you have any more requests!

— — — —

Sousuke didn’t very much like social interaction. 

It was the one thing he wished to avoid at all costs—even going as far as skipping classes if it meant not speaking to his fellow wizards—and Rin always reprimanded him for it. 

“You need to meet new people,” Matsuoka told him one day, as bouth of them lounged at the lake “I am literally your only friend—and we’re not even in the same house!” 

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