that line makes me think of my built a fire fic

anonymous asked:

Hi love! What would you say the top ten sterek fics you've ever read are?

This was REALLY HARD. Mainly bc it’s hard to choose only 10. Because I’m leaving off some great fics (which is why there are more than 10 on here :3)! And some I get mixed up bc I read them so long ago and near each other. (You can always browse my fave fic list here) But I’ve narrowed it to this list. These are the fics that really left impressions on me. They’re all amazing and deserve to be read and loved!!! So…have a TOP 27 FAVE STEREK FICS list :DDDD

1. Cry Havoc by ladyblahblah

In Beacon Hills, the two-year war that’s been raging between werewolves and hunters has begun spilling over onto the civilian population. Meanwhile, in Boston, when the tattoo on Stiles Stilinski’s back is damaged on a late-night hunt he begins to have dreams that lead him across the country, drawn by an inexplicable conviction that he’s needed there. When he discovers that Derek Hale began the war after his mate was killed, Stiles finds himself being offered a strange deal: figure out how to bring the alpha’s mate back, and peace talks can begin.

2. Where the Inevitable Isn’t by Survivah

Stiles has a magical thingamajig that’s supposed to get him out of danger. Trouble is, it took him really, really far out of danger. Like, to the point where he isn’t in the same universe anymore.

“A part of Stiles had been thinking that he’d come home, and just go, ‘hey, Derek, are we mates and you just haven’t said anything about it?’ and Derek would reply, ‘now you mention it, we are indeed! Now come to my bedchamber, where we will have super hot sex and then cuddle after!’”

3. Pack Up; Don’t Stray by the_deep_magic

AU – Werewolves are an enslaved underclass, collared and tagged by human masters. Detective Stilinski’s on duty the night they bring in an untagged stray.

4. Our Memories Are Numbered by rufflefeather

Stiles’ Jeep grinds to a halt, he sees someone running through the rain, he’s not expecting it to be Derek. He’s not expecting a Derek without any memories either, or an Alpha pack that’s coming for all of them. He probably should’ve, because lately nothing goes the way he expects.

5. Ad Astra Per Tentaculum by morganoconner

Space contains a multitude of different species, and Derek has seen and helped a lot of them in his time taking down branches of the slave-trade organization. But this is the first time he’s seen an Aloshrivnik. It’s not the tentacles that draw him in; it’s the goddamn eyes that stare at him without backing down.

“Stiles,” it says to him. “My name is Stiles.”

6. Part of My Melody by hayesgeneration

Derek is a professional classical musician who has found himself lost without a muse, without goal and without even a hint of spark. He’s almost settled nearly contently (if not slightly unwillingly) on having to live his life as a recluse, when his sister finally grows tired of his antics, giving him a Christmas ultimatum.

7. Littlest Alpha by triedunture

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.”

8. Holding Your Own Weight by zjofierose

Stiles Stilinski is the best trapeze artist west of the Mississippi, but that doesn’t do him much good without a catcher. Enter one quiet roughneck who calls himself Derek and knows maybe a little too much about circus arts for someone who was hired to schlep tents. But Derek has his secrets, and so does the new girl, Allison. Who’s being hunted and who’s being haunted, and will Stiles ever be able to convince Derek to help him fly again?

Keep reading

when you wake me up

Cassian has a hard enough time hiding his feelings for Jyn on missions. Having to share a bed makes it that much more difficult.

Jyn/Cassian. Post movie, everyone lives AU. Title from Ed Sheeran’s “Wake Me Up.” For @leralynne, my favorite rebelcaptain writer, queen of bedsharing fics.

[ao3]

There’s one bed.

They’re on some desert planet he’d rather forget the name of, an information-gathering mission, but their contact has delayed for another day. Normally they’d take that as a warning, a possible trap, but this is important intel, and they’ve been ordered to stay. Which they would have anyway, but it’s nice to follow the rules for once. K2 stays with the ship, able to blend in if he’s found by stormtroopers, but Jyn and Cassian have to find somewhere to hide out.

They’ve managed to find a room for the night with a “friend” of Cassian’s. (That’s how he refers to him anyway – Jyn’s raised eyebrow tells him she can hear the quotation marks in his voice. She knows better than to ask.) The house (if you could call it that) is tiny, dirt floors and one small grimy window. It’s one room, but under the chair in the corner, there’s a small trapdoor that leads to a hidden basement. Perfect to hide booze, which is clearly his friend’s main use for it, but it also has a small bed and a lamp. Good enough for Rebels needing a place to camp out for the night.

Except for the whole one bed thing.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

i'm sorry it why do you ship junkrat with mei?? if you haven't noticed or actually played overwatch, you'd know that mei hates junkrat, they despise each other and they're total opposites. and no, opposites don't always attract.

Ladies and Gentleman, we have a first!

In the two or so years I’ve had this blog, I’ve never had an antagonistic anon before. Then again, I only ever started branching out into non-Soul Eater things in September, so maybe this is just what happens when you start to create content for bigger fandoms? 

First things first: If you don’t like the content I post, I suggest that you either unfollow my blog or use blacklist to block the tags for content you don’t like. Your Tumblr experience is curated by you. I’ll tag my content to help you blacklist topics you wish to avoid, but it’s ultimately up to each user to take the necessary steps to tailor their dashboard.

Secondly, in sending me a rude ask, you have given me an excuse to talk about a favorite ship of mine. So buckle up, we’ve got a long post incoming!

Why ship Junkrat and Mei? Why ship any two characters?

Take a gander at this post by @chaoticlivi. It’s a pretty exhaustive list of reasons people get invested in the relationship between any two characters. They span from aesthetic and visual tastes (these two look great together!) to more in depth, thematic ones (their relationship embodies a theme I care about). Basically, there are many many reasons to love a ship, and canon rarely has much to do with it.  

In general, canon is a box of scraps. This is especially true for Overwatch, which despite its exhaustive lore leaves many holes in character stories and relationships. Nothing in the game itself (which I do play often, btw) is ‘canon.’ The voicelines you hear haven’t actually happened. They are meant to give us insight into the characters, their histories, and their relationships, but you can’t quote them as something Mei or Junkrat have actually said.  

In-game content is also in flux. As more shorts and comics come out, as the actual Overwatch lore grows, the game evolves too. It’s possible what’s canon within the game now will change later on. 

What I’m saying is, you can point at two voicelines and wave around words like ‘hate’ until you are blue in the face, but that won’t 1) make it canon that Junkrat and Mei will be at odds forever or 2) make me any less likely to ship them.

Now that I’ve got the “shipping doesn’t need a canon basis and Overwatch shipping is a crapshoot built on nearly nothing anyway” part done, I can actually talk about Mei and Junkrat.

Keep reading

Run Away Baby Ch. 3 (Steve Rogers x reader)

Hello lovelies!  So, I kind of went on a whim and just layered my hair while cutting almost three inches off. It looks nice (thank god) and I cut off all the dead ends so yay, my hair is healthy again. On a whole other note, here’s the next chapter of “Run Away Baby” and I WILL be posting tonight! I’m so sorry for the weekend hiatus, I was working all weekend and I was sick, but I was able to make enough money to pay for my expo tickets! Woo! I love you all and enjoy! xoxo

Description:Pregnant with Steve Rogers’ child, your husband, you’re a happily married couple. He moved you to the countryside, trying to keep you away from as much harm as possible. Isolated, and by yourself most of the time, you always worried about him when he went away. But, marriage couldn’t have been better for the two of you for the three years since you had taken his last name. But, one night, when Steve’s out on a mission, you get a call from Nick Fury telling you to get as far away from your house as possible.

Warnings: None

Chapter 2

MASTERLIST


Bucky was constantly looking back at you as he furiously drove down the road, heading to the safe house. You were out cold, and he could see the deep purple bruise forming around your wrist. The gravel hitting the car filled in the silence that was hanging in the car until a beeping sound came from the speakers. Fury was called. 

“Fury, I have her. She’s knocked out, but she’s alive. F/N needs some serious medical attention when we get there though.” Bucky was trying to as calm as he could despite the situation. 

“Okay, but what happened back there? Where’s Steve now?” Fury’s voice was very eager and intent. All he wanted was you safe, and him gone. 

“Long story. I’ll tell you when I get there.” Bucky was beyond worried about you. You were one of his best friends, you were hurt, and who knows if the baby was too. It seemed like in a flash, everything changed, and his friendship with Steve was a distant memory. 

“Fine. How long till you’re here? By the way, we have a doctor here that can take care of F/N. He’s a good guy.” Fury was trying to ease Bucky’s nerves and his mind. He couldn’t have him freaking out when you needed him most. 

“Ten more minutes. We’re almost there.” Bucky’s eyes were frantically shifting back and forth on the road, making sure he was going the right way. “Fury…” He took a deep breath, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat. “What are we going to do about Steve?” 

Fury took a moment, letting the line fall silent. “I don’t know.. I thought I was trusting the right man, but I guess I wasn’t and now I’ve put F/N and her unborn child in danger.” He was never a sentimental guy, but when it came to you, he was always protective. “That man is something else, and I honestly don’t know what our next step is besides trying to keep them safe.” 

You were sprawled across the backseat, barely breathing. The movement of the car bumping along the gravel was pulling you in and out of consciousness, and everything that you heard and saw were blurring together. A small groan escaped your lips, and Bucky snapped his head towards you. “Hang in there, F/N. Stay with me.” His look was sincere, his eyebrows furrowed together with worry. He faced the road again, this time speaking to Fury. “I don’t think she can hold out much longer. That doctor better have everything prepped when we get there.” Bucky pressed on the accelerator, picking up speed. You were only two minutes away from the compound. He checked his mirrors, making sure he wasn’t being followed. “We’re coming up the hill. See you soon.” The call ended and Bucky skidded to a halt at the plateau. There was a bunker built into the side of the hill, concealed from the view of the road, and everyone in the world besides a few select people. 

Bucky picked you up in his arms gently, then began running to the bunker door. His car began driving itself into another door, disappearing into the mountain. Before he could punch in the password, the door slid open, and Fury and the doctor stood behind it, a gurney at their side. “Put her here.” The doctor was calm and efficient while Bucky placed you on the bed, watching the man rush you off down the hall and around a corner. 

“Jesus. What did he do to her?” Fury’s gaze was locked on the end of the hall. 

“Steve did some pretty serious damage, but I suggest we get deep into the bunker before we have this conversation.” Bucky nodded towards him, punching in a series of numbers to shut the door. The two men walked down the hall, turning down a series of corners, finally making their way into a conference room of sorts. 


“So, tell me exactly what happened.” 

“Well, I don’t know what happened before I pulled up, but when I came, he was about to take her head off his his shield. If I didn’t fire some shots at him, I think he actually might have.” Bucky had his elbows propped up on the table with his fingers in his hair. “We were in hand to hand combat and I got him preoccupied enough to let F/N get to the car, but she didn’t even make it that far. Once I knocked Steve out, she was already out cold on the ground, so I laid her down in the back seat and drove here.” 

Fury was rubbing his chin, sitting at the head of the table. “And you just left him on the porch?” He locked his eyes on the distraught man in front of him. 

Bucky took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say. “I-I couldn’t do it. I know I should have, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And I didn’t know if F/N was dead or alive, and I chose to save her instead. I hope that helps my case.” He picked his head up, meeting Fury’s gaze. 

“That’s understandable. But I have a feeling he’s not going to stop until she’s dead, so we might have to take him out before he even has a chance to touch her.” His hands were folded on the table, looking relaxed, but little did Bucky know his was squeezing the life out of them. 

Bucky nodded solemnly, diverting his eyes back to the table. “I understand.” 

The men sat in silence, the severity of the situation began to sink in. You were barely alive, Steve was with H.Y.D.R.A., and nobody knew who to trust anymore. What was the next step? What were they going to do with you? How were they going to keep you safe? These questions were running through both of their minds when there was a knock at the door and the doctor stepped in. 

“We need to talk.”


I hoped you liked it! I know it’s kind of short, but I didn’t want to get too into the next part. I hope you all have a wonderful day. I’ll have the next chapter of “Secret of These Hands” up this evening, so stay tuned! I love you all, you’re all beautiful and amazing. xoxo

TAGLIST IS OPEN FOR THIS SERIES. 

Taglist:

@usernamesarebitches @purplekitten30 @only-little-glances @red-writer13 @justmasblack @abbyg723 @barely-emily @ekinsyikin @queenvulca @ok-ladies-lets-get-in-formation @smadrat @dont-rain-on-my-fandom @opaque-daydream @red-bandana-girl @spiderlingy @cakeisforchumps @noir-agneau @borntodieabitch @ladywitheclecticheart @steggy4ever @itsemmyb @xkaciesearlex @natasha-rxmanova @allyp1023 @hollycornish @brauni2001 @fashion-masquerade @angelicaxmichelle @finleythetalkingdog @fireflyloki28 @adellyhatter-blog @ayo-minty-jess @thequeenofgood @iamwarrenspeace @captainumeboshi @mcfuccfairy @fandomlover2001 @elegantnightmareshiro @buckysplumfondler @imgettingmarriedtobuckybarnes @badassbaker @life-is-fuucked @elwenia @addictionmarvel @redstarstan @kkrissy12 @meredith019 @ashann7 @silverleeh @marvelsbitch @marir10 @tryn25 @isaxhorror @frozenfan272 @luv2reade16 

High Tensions - Eight

Spencer Reid x Reader

Glancing around Spencer made sure the office door was locked and the blinds drawn before walking over to where Y/N was bent over the desk, her skirt rucked up around her waist and her black lace panties pulled down. 

That ass, fuuuck. He just wanted to slam himself against it, it looked so pert and firm. 

She wriggled slightly, turning her head to look at him, cocking her eyebrow at him. “Hurry the fuck up Spencer please. I’m desperate here.”

Standing behind her and parting her legs, he could feel that she was. Warm silky fluid coated his fingers as he felt between her legs, making sure she was ready for him. 

“Say it Y/N, say it first,” he fumbled with the buckle on his trousers, pushing them down and taking his dick into his hand, stroking it; just waiting for her to say the words he’d been dying to hear from her for weeks now. 

She wriggled again, pushing her butt back towards him and looking back at him. “Spencer Reid, You win. I want you in me, now. Fuck me, and do it hard and do it fast. ”

He grinned and slowly started to push himself inside her slick entrance, knowing he wouldn’t last long this time but that he’d make up for it later. He began to thrust, her sweet gasps filling his ears as she clenched around him. He gripped her hips, using them as leverage as he drove himself in and out of her, feeling ready to explode almost instantly. 

“Y/N, I’m gonna come,” he groaned, knowing he’d barely lasted two minutes inside her warm center. His orgasm racked through his body, spilling free inside her. 

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP. 

Spencer shot up in bed, reaching for his alarm clock and hitting the off button. 

Shit. 

He could already feel the warm sticky fluid inside his boxers. 

That didn’t count right? He couldn’t control his dreams right? 

He rummaged in his bedside drawer for some baby wipes. He didn’t want to get out of bed just yet, so he’d make do until he showered. 

Lying there his mind drifted back to last night. He had genuinely been so close to giving in, he wanted her so badly. That kiss with Emily had completely shredded any coherent thoughts and he’d had to dash outside to avoid grabbing Y/N and fucking her right then and there on the table whilst the whole bar watched. 

She knew what she was doing, but whereas most girls would play the lesbian kiss card as a joke, Spencer could tell that she’d very much enjoyed it herself.

Y/N had made comments in the past about finding girls attractive and having had girlfriends but it wasn’t until she’d openly said that she liked both that Spencer had realised that she was actually serious. And the blonde girl she’d been talking to was beautiful, so knowing that their bodies had been naked together, sharing intimacy had completely redirected the flow of Spencer’s blood. 

And then when she’d alluded to the offer of a threesome, with either her friend or Prentiss…..Spencer had literally been gobsmacked. Every bone in his body had been saying yes and even Derek was telling him to give in. He’d let down his fellow man by managing to turn them down, although he was wondering if that offer would still stand once he had actually managed to take Y/N to bed. 

Which he’d been intending to do last night. When she’d asked if he wanted to go back to hers and he’d found himself nodding, he’d just about accepted that he’d lost. It wasn’t until he’d been standing in front of her apartment door watching her search for her keys that he remembered that he hadn’t actually said the magic words. So he still technically had an out. And then he’d had a flash back to the elevator and how turned on she’d left him, talking about her lips wrapped around his dick. So he decided to have his own fun. 

The little moans and whimpers Y/N had been making would be a constant fixture in his mind now until he heard them again, and he knew this. But the look on her face when he’d walked away had been worth it. And her strangled shout after him had made him literally feel like he could walk into any bar, point at any girl and have her there and then. Not that he wanted to. Y/N was consuming all of his thoughts currently and he hoped she would be for a very long time. 

His phone buzzed, a text from Derek. 

“????”

He text back a simple, “Nope.”

“Seriously man! I can’t believe you turned that shit down.”

“Believe it Morgan. The bet is still on.”

Pulling himself out of bed, he made his way to his shower. Time to get on with his day. 

You’d spent the last four hours in the gym working out some accumulated frustrations on the exercise equipment, earphones in and your eyes averted from any attractive bodies that passed by you. 

Your credit card had also taken hit this morning, you needing some retail therapy to help get you through this. 

You hated Spencer right now, yet still completely wanted to bang him seven ways from Sunday. You’d been so sure, and so turned on, firstly by the kiss with Prentiss and then by Spencer’s mouth on your skin. 

Ugh. Stop thinking Y/N. 

You exited the gym, the image of him still filling your mind and you could swear you could actually see him two yards ahead of you, seated on a bench, his head immersed in a book. Was it really that bad that you were hallucinating about him now? 

Walking to your car you realised it was actually him, the bench was in front of a bookstore he visited regularly and you spotted a carrier bag on the seat next to him. 

Creeping up behind him you lowered your lips to his ear. 

“Spencer!”

He jumped, a girlish squeal leaving his mouth and causing you to giggle at him. He turned to glare at you and you dropped into the seat next to him. 

“Fancy seeing you here. Come here often?” The oldest line in the book, but you couldn’t cope with being witty today. 

He looked at you confused, “You know I do Y/N. That place is my favourite bookstore. So really I should be asking you what you’re doing here. So…… do you come here often?“ 

“Not overly…. But the gym was calling me this morning. I seemed to have built up a lot of tension some how that needed to punched out. So I punched it out. Quite literally.” You made a little boxing motion making little “Pow, Pow” noises as you undercut the air in front of you and mimed a duck. 

Reid laughed at you, “That’s so cute.”

You punched him lightly in the arm, “Cute! I’m not cute, I’m deadly.”

You joked with him for a few more minutes, just falling into casual conversation and then sitting with him, watching the cars pass you by on the road before you. 

“Spence, I’ve missed this.”

“Missed what?”

“Just hanging out with you. Without constantly trying to think of ways to get you fired up.”

He closed his book and placed it back into his bag, “You know what, I do too. What are your plans for the rest of the day?“ 

“Erm, I was gonna head home, have a hot bath and then veg in front of the TV for pretty much the whole evening. My live is so glamorous and all.”

“Okay, so go home and have your bath but then meet me at the cinema on Main Street at 6pm. They’re showing all three Jurassic Park films back to back in preparation for the release of the new one.”

You considered his offer. “One condition?" 

He nodded. 

"This little game thingy, is suspended. We go back to being normal Spencer and Y/N for the night. Because I genuinely can’t deal with another night of being turned on and then abruptly turned off again. And I don’t really fancy having to bring plastic sheeting with me to sit on.”

The chuckle that left his chest then and the grin on his face was so deliciously catching that you couldn’t help but join in. 

“It’s a deal Y/N. We’ll just hang out as a normal friends. No trying to convince you to sit on my face. ”

You burst out laughing before clarifying timings and headed home to get bathed and ready, actually looking forward to your evening now.  

Your evening was spent relaxing with best friend Spencer rather than fuck me now Spencer and you thoroughly enjoyed yourself. 

It was nice, just spending time with him and you’d forgotten how much you enjoyed just sitting with him, listening to him talk.  

He’d insisted on buying your ticket and popcorn for the movies and you’d accepted, telling him it was the least he could do after last night. 

For the first forty minutes or so of the film, you’d been on edge, thinking that he was going to use being in a darkly lit theatre to his advantage. Eventually you relaxed though, seeing how engrossed he was in the film, even though you knew he’d reel off the inaccuracies on the way home. 

Around the midpoint of the second film, he shifted in his seat; throwing his arm over the back of your seat.

Hmmm. Maybe he was just stretching. He left his arm there and you relaxed again until you felt an arm nudging you. 

Balls, you’d fallen asleep. The lights were slowly coming on and the credits rolling. 

“Come on sleepy head I’ll walk you home.”

Both of you lived pretty close to the cinema so you’d walked, meeting up outside the entrance. 

As predicted, Spencer gave you a list of the scientific inaccuracies as you strolled through the darkened streets together. You let him talk, enjoying the sound of his voice. He always sounded so sweet when he rambled, especially when he was talking about something he was passionate about. 

You stopped outside of your apartment building. 

“Thanks Spence. I had a good time tonight. Sorry for falling asleep, I just feel exhausted for some reason.”

“That’s okay Y/N. Three films is a lot to sit through, especially if you’ve spent four hours already at the gym. Maybe we can do this again sometime? Like actually hang out again?”

You nodded at him, “Yeah I’d like that. It almost felt like we were on a date though with you insisting on paying for everything.” You were teasing him but his eyes flickered slightly. 

You reached up to give him a quick hug good bye, and he surprised you by giving you a kiss on your cheek.

You lingered in the hug longer than necessary, your cheek burning from where his lips had been. 

Spencer pulled away first, “Well I’ll see you then. I guess we’re business as usual from tomorrow again?" 

You nodded and he smirked.

As he turned to walk away a thought a occurred to you. 

"Spencer,” you called. He stopped in his tracks. 

“Was this a date?" 

He shrugged, "I don’t know, was it?" 

"Did you want it to be?”

“Again Y/N…..I don’t know. I don’t really know what to call what we do when we spend time with each other anymore….And I don’t wanna mess anything up by calling this a date.”

Neither did you, but…. 

“Well we’re two friends who share a mutual attraction for each other and have spent the last few weeks actively trying to get the other to admit to wanting to bang the other.”

“So it was a date then?” Spencer asked, a smile playing on his lips. 

“I guess it was.”

anonymous asked:

so i've been reading alot of esama (and your stuff- it's really good :D *thumbs up) lately and compared to you guys, all the other fanfics seem to be ten times more angsty. so i wanted to ask (cause you're the only tumblr person i ask stuff to) if you can rec some fics (i'm fine with any fandom). i'm not exactly looking for fluff or crack, just kind of a -i move at my own pace and i don't really care about what you think character. hope that wasn't too confusing and i really appreciate it!!! :D

Sorry this is a bit late, I’ve been really busy lately so I couldn’t get to this until now. The criteria you set is a little… hard to get a bead on but here’s some fics that (imo) aren’t overly angsty and has pretty independent/my-pace kind of characters, and of course they’re all really good. I tried to pick fics from a variety of fandoms so I hope you’ll enjoy them:

such selfish prayers by andromeda3116 (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Katara’s ambition, so long set aside for the good of others, breaks free and sets fire to her soul. Or, Katara has a vision of her canon future, casts it aside, and becomes a world-changing politician instead.

if you try to break me, you will bleed by Dialux (Game of Thrones)

It had been a slash across her chest from a White Walker’s sword that finally ended her life. Sansa’d landed in a puddle of her own blood, and she’d died quickly, quietly.

And then she’d awoken with a gasp, trembling, in a bed that had burned under Theon’s betrayal.

The life and times of Hatake Kakashi, the long-suffering jōnin-sensei by FeelingsDusk (Naruto)

Kakashi is being trolled. He doesn’t know how that can be, but he knows with utmost certainty that he’s being trolled somehow.

OR

Kakashi gets saddled with the cheekiest little brats ever and wonders if it’s too late to become a missing nin.

The best helping hand is at the end of your own arm by FeelingsDusk (Teen Wolf)

Stiles draws the line at being kidnapped and tortured by a geriatric fascist and having to sacrifice his poor Roscoe to save people that didn’t appreciate it afterwards, thank you very much.

(Peter is smitten by his approach to self-sufficiency.)

Cirrus Cloud by silencia20 (HP x KHR)

In which you are Acacia Potter and drift around in the world. The war’s over and now most of what you do is out of boredom, until you meet a certain hitman.

grow up mean by pprfaith, reena_jenkins (BtVS x Fast & Furious)

Carter has always had an eye for deadly things and the blonde on his dancefloor fits the bill.

Adventures in Magick by PseudonymousEntity (Harry Potter)

“What Would A Hero Do?” Newly crowned wizard and avid reader of fantasy fiction, eleven-year-old Harry Potter makes friends with the goblin standing outside Gringotts with unforeseen consequences. Armed with an unlikely posse -his insatiable curiosity- and a pocket full of questions, Curious!Harry embarks on his first year at Hogwarts. Merlin help us.

Say Boys Don’t You See Them Bones by Adel Mortescryche (Mortescryche) (KHR)

In which Tsuna’s the Corpse Whisperer.

(Or: In the months he spends at the Varia Compound at Timoteo’s behest, Tsuna manages to stumble across enough forgotten dead bodies to fill entire cemeteries. And everyone is terribly amused. Except, y’know, for him.)

Influence of Souls by Nia_River (Harry Potter)

He stared at his journal, a creation into which he had poured his memories and dreams, his heart and … soul. Now, to send it to where it needed to be.

Young and Built to Fall by fingers-falling-upwards (One Piece)

Ace will save his nakama. He will save his father. And he will save his little brother and ensure Luffy’s happiness even if it kills him. Again. Thankfully, he won’t be doing it alone. Together, he and Luffy will change the world.

once a queen or king of narnia, always a king or queen by dirgewithoutmusic (Chronicles of Narnia)

A lion told her to walk away, and she did. He forbade her magic, he forbade her her own kingdom, so she made her own.

Susan Pevensie did not lose faith. She found it.

The Little Guy by TokiMirage (Final Fantasy VII)

The last thing Cloud wants, when given the chance, is to do it all over again. Instead, he chooses the normal life. After all, a Janitor could never save the world. But… well, it all starts with the General’s coffee machine.

The Sum of Their Parts by holdmybeer (Harry Potter)

For Teddy Lupin, Harry Potter would become a Dark Lord. For Teddy Lupin, Harry Potter would take down the Ministry or die trying. He should have known that Hermione and Ron wouldn’t let him do it alone.

An Invincible Summer by ShanaStoryteller (Naruto)

When Naruto is five, he’s gutted by a drunken civilian and presumed dead.

Six months later a girl with ash pale hair and dark blue eyes enters the Academy.

Again and Again by Athy (Harry Potter)

The Do-Over Fic - a chance to do things again, but this time-To Get it Right. But is it really such a blessing as it appears? A jaded, darker, bitter, and tired wizard who just wants to die; but can’t. A chance to learn how to live, from the most unexpected source.

Bar Sinister (pt 1)

Summary: You make a deal with Negan to save your friend Daryl’s life. But when you can’t give Negan the child he wants, you ask Daryl to help make it happen.

Pairings: Daryl x Reader, some Negan x Reader

Chapter: 1/?

Word Count: 2,020

Warnings: Language, threats of violence

It was stupid of Daryl to return to Alexandria. You knew it. Rick knew it. Everyone knew it. But fuck if he wasn’t a stubborn asshole. Even Rick couldn’t talk him round. You knew there’d been no chance of him staying at The Kingdom in the middle of their endless LARP game but you thought he’d at least have the sense to go to the Hilltop.

But he hadn’t. He’d come back to the place he felt he never fit in. He’d come home, to the house you shared with him. It was quieter now, with Eugene and Carol gone, Maggie at the Hilltop and Glenn… well, you were glad to have Daryl back.  He didn’t talk about what happened with Negan – of course he didn’t – but you could see that whatever it was had taken a massive toll on him. He’d stayed strong and fought Negan relentlessly but there was an exhaustion to him. A loneliness.

He should’ve gone to the Hilltop. The thing he needed most right now was Maggie’s forgiveness.

But he was here.

And the familiar sound of Lucille banging against the gates told you that Negan was here too.

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The Absence of Blame: A Castle Fic

Prompted by @inkstainedcoffeecup: In 8x12 ‘The Blame Game’, one of them is injured in the final room.

It goes wrong so suddenly that she doesn’t even notice. 

She’s too focused on getting the gun away, on subduing Brandon before he can do something to hurt one of them that the ding of the bullet against metal escapes her entirely. The groan of pain is muffled against her struggle for the gun, the thud of a body onto the floor disguised by Brandon’s own trip onto the unforgiving concrete. 

It’s only the flare of surprise in the mastermind’s eyes that alert her to anything being amiss, that bright flicker followed by a twinkle of pleasure that sends her stomach rolling with anxiety. 

Training demands that she keep the gun pointed on her suspect, just as it begins to bleed through the rush of adrenaline at living to survive for another day and tell her that something has gone horribly, drastically wrong. 

The absence of movement, the gasping intake of a breath, a groan that isn’t quite muffled enough in the room. The dark, wet patch that teases at the corner of her vision, a steady spread over one of countless dress shirts that her fingers have touched over the years. 

Her heart leaps into her throat, panic at war with the rest of her. Instinct and fear for her husband demand that she put down the gun and rush to his side, but her training won’t allow it. She cannot be a wife, not yet. For a few minutes she has to be a cop, to neutralize the threat and give herself and Castle the best chance for survival. 

Not that it stops the whimper from slipping out of her mouth. The tears are still pricking at her eyes, a swell of regret and guilt held in the whisper of his given name on her lips. 

This is her fault. She should have been faster, should have lunged sooner and grabbed the gun before Brandon could ever fire off a shot. 

The guy is still sitting on the floor, docile and content. The horror rises up like a tidal wave, crashing into Kate with a force that’s replaced with swift rage. He’s grinning, eyes riveting to the man bleeding out from a wound that she’s not quite managed to look at. He’s grinning and proud of what he’s done, proud that he’s managed to hurt at least one of them. 

She lifts the rifle before it’s really a conscious thought, anger slicing her open with white hot fingers that are insistent on meeting violence with violence. She could pistol whip him in a second, leave him out cold and buy herself time to attend to her husband. For that matter, she could shoot him point blank and ensure no one has to deal with Brandon again.

Kate resists both ideas, ignoring the tug that demands retribution and the steadily growing grief of a wife who might be forced to watch her husband slip away. 

She won’t think about it. Can’t think about it. This can’t be where it ends, with the two of them locked in a room with a sociopath with a perchance for mind games while they’re still separated and, by sheer avoidance towards the subject, on the path to a divorce in the minds of most people. 

It can’t end like this, not when she has so much to make up for. Not when they have so many things left to share. 

“Get up,” she growls, kicking out towards Brandon’s feet to urge him from the floor. His hesitation snaps the fragile band of her patience, further tests her tolerance about manhandling the man that shot her husband, and she reaches out to haul him from the floor herself, adrenaline and sheer strength ensuring that he rises to his feet with relative ease. “You walk over there and you stand with your back against the wall.” 

The push is unnecessary, but it makes her feel better nonetheless, that physical display siphoning off enough of her rage that Kate can find her focus. Brandon goes without complaint, those eyes still fever bright when she kneels beside Castle, fumbling with one hand to loosen the belt that’s fastened at his waist. 

It tugs at her heart that there is no wry grin or teasing come on about where her hands are while they work at undoing the leather strap. Rick should be smiling at her, those gorgeous blue eyes sparkling with that ridiculous combination of mischief, love, and lust that always manages to do it for her.

She tries not to think about how pale he is, how still he remains as the pool of blood grows while she works the belt through the loops, freeing it from the constraints of his pants with a bit of pushing and shoving. There is some comfort that there is no blood underneath his body, the bullet plugging the wound that seems to be embedded in his shoulder. Not life threatening, not unless he bleeds out before help comes. 

Help has to come. It has to. 

“Turn around,” she orders to Brandon, gun in one hand and the belt in the other. It takes another shove with the hand containing the accessory to get him to turn, the man’s chest smacking with a bit too much force into the wall. But Kate ties his hands with the belt, wrapping and knotting a configuration that would take some work to get himself out of. 

He sits without being instructed, back to the docile person that he’d pretended to be before the final room and their complete disregard for his rules. 

Maybe, on some level, that’s who he is. The man underneath all the damage and anger over the choices his parents made. 

She can’t focus on it. There just isn’t enough room in her heart and her mind to worry about the actions of a man who will soon spend the rest of his life in some form of imprisonment, be it Rikers or a mental facility. All she can think about is Rick, of how he’s beginning to stir from his spot on the floor, mouth contorted in a pain that she understands far too well. 

“Hey, babe, it’s okay,” she’s kneeling at his side in an instant, fingers gentle and soothing through the mussed strands of his hair. “I’m right here, you’re gonna be okay. Just stay calm….help is coming, Rick. You’re gonna be fine….” 

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Fic: The Outlaw’s Lady part 2

This started life as a one shot but now looks set to be a multipart story. This part was based on this prompt from @lauraelizabeth77. Hope you enjoy it

lauraelizabeth77

Hi! I saw your request for prompts.. I notice you do fluff really well ( I love fluff). How about a bit of Murtagh and Claire bonding? Also! I noticed your back writing fic after a 10 year break. Well done! I’ve taken a 15 year break, started a few Outlander ideas.. you are inspiring me to get back to it!


Part 1 is here 


Claire woke to the sound of raised voices. That wasn’t unusual amongst the Highlanders, but what was unusual was the number of times she heard the words “Claire” “Mistress Beauchamp”, “Sassenach spy” and more than once “English bitch”. She threw off her cloak and groggily searched around for her clothes. The sat in a pile in the centre of the room. She flashed back to the previous night and her face flushed hot. She was engaged. To a large red headed highlander, who also happened to be a notorious outlaw. A notorious outlaw who also happened to be the single great love of her life. It all made so much sense to her now. She had tried to get away on occasion, and it had always been Jamie who had found her. She wondered if that she had subconsciously made that happen. If she had’t really wanted to leave, but done what she thought she must through duty, through loyalty.

Frank. He was her husband, but was he really? He wouldn’t even be born for nigh on another two hundred years and in her six weeks in the past the memory of him had grown blurry in a way it had not even in six years of separation through war. The war had taken its toll though, but she had thought that perhaps with time they could have fixed that had she never gone to the stones. Had she never found Jamie. But she had. She felt some regret that Frank would never know what had happened to her, that there would always be questions, but she also knew Frank. He had loved her, but he would move on. It was just who he was.  His fiercely pragmatic nature alone would ensure that. And for her, her heart and soul belonged elsewhere, she could never truly go back now.

She got dressed slowly, listening to the noise below escalate. Jamie. Dougal. Ned Gowan attempting to intercede between the two.

“Ya canna marry the Sassenach, Jamie. Colum will lose his head. Or you might lose yours. Whatever were ya thinking man?”

“She needs protecting. She has no people, no husband to take care o’ her. If you insist she must stay here with us, she at least deserves that. A lady of her station shouldna be by herself”

“Oh and you’re just the man to protect her, aye?” The derision was palpable.

There was more shouting this time less distinct but no less vehement in tone. She was dressed now and wondering what to do with herself. She didn’t really fancy throwing herself into Dougal’s firing line, but at the same time felt that really should be offering moral support to Jamie given that this wasn’t exactly something he had gotten into by himself. There was an alarming crash and the sound of a door banging. Heading to the window, she saw Dougal stomp across the yard towards the stables at the same time she heard footfalls on the stairs. Hurriedly raking her fingers through her wild morning hair she attempted to make herself more presentable expecting Jamie. It was Murtagh, however, who knocked and entered the room.

They eyed each other speculatively. Claire raised her chin slightly feeling slightly unnerved. It was however, Murtagh who broke the silence.

“I brought you some breakfast, lass. I figured you’d no want to be getting between Dougal and Jamie when they have their danders up. Even if you are the cause of it” He raised an eyebrow at her at this and walked over and placed a tray on the table in the corner. “Dougal’s stomped off, but I have nay doubt he’ll be back as soon as he’s thought of some new names to call the lad. I figured we’d just leave them at it for now at least”

She had expected Murtagh to leave immediately after setting the tray down but he surprised her by leaning against the fireplace.

“So, lass. Why do you want to marry Jamie?. I ken why he wants to marry you, the look on his face when he thinks no one is watching him watching you, is all I need to know about his feelings. But you? Why have you agreed to this? You ken he’s an outlaw?”

“I do” she replied.

“And ya ken he’s no land or money.”

“Yes”

“So why?” The scot looked at her intently, his bushy brows meeting. The silence stretched between them.

After a moment Murtagh spoke again. “I love that boy like he’s my own son and since his parents died he might as well be. I dinna think him taking you to wife is a good idea. I’m not going to lie about that, but I ken he loves you something fierce. He’s a good bit of both his Mam and Da in him and they loved passionately and not always wisely. He’s romantic and he believes in marrying for love. I dinna think any of us expected it to be to a mysterious Sassenach who near dropped out of the sky though.”

These were more words than she had heard Murtagh speak since he first found her at the stones those six weeks past.

“I love him too. I know that he has no land or money. I know that he’s an outlaw with a price on his head. I know all this and I still want him. Its him that I want. Not a position, not a name or title. Hell, I don’t even know his real name, but I’ll bet my shift it’s not MacTavish.”

The wiry scot’s mouth lifted a little at the corners with that. “No, its not. But its for Jamie to tell you who he is, not me.”

She nodded at that and he carried on. “It clear you’re a lady. High born and gently reared. Despite your foul mouth.” It was her turn to smile slightly. “Are you really prepared for what life with him could be like? If things go sour at Leoch. You’d have to take off. You could maybe head for France or the such, but it will no be easy for the two of you. Both of yis are in that mad bastard Randall’s sights. If he catches wind o’ yer…”

“I want him” her voice was almost a whisper and it shook slightly. There was another pause between them.

“Aye. Aye, I know you do, Mistress. You’ve the kind of face that just isna built for telling lies. But I needed to ask ya. I promised his Ma I’d always take care of him and I willna break that vow. Ya no the only one who loves him, ken?”

She kent. She did not know the taciturn highlander well, but she knew him to be stalwart and true. Jamie trusted him without question and she knew that she could too.

He rose to his feet.

“Well then… Claire” He looked slightly uncomfortable at the use of this familiarity and followed it with a world class scottish noise. “You finish your breakfast and come on down. We’ve some plans to make, aye?”

holyshitfreudvikings  asked:

since you made me aware of how much sterek is my jam and thereby Personally Victimised me, please enjoy thinking about a world where Derek and Kent hook up, try to make it work, but can't get past their respective emotional barriers. Alternatively, a world where Stiles and Bitty meet and the western hemisphere falls to the force of their terrifying friendship

I would ask what I had done to deserve to be targeted in this way, I’m a good person, etc., but I know. But look, if someone comes to me and complains that this answer made them even more confused about which Derek they were reading about, I’m blaming you.

Re: Stiles and Bitty meeting, I can’t shake @petals42’s vision of this, so I will point you at that not!fic, because it is my favorite. (Other things I think would be true from the TW crew being the denizens of the lacrosse house: Scott and Chowder would hit it off through their shared CA optimism maintained in the face of all stress, plus potentially bonding over what it’s like to stand in front of a net and have people chuck things at you. Liam would be over at the Haus trying to score free food con-stant-ly. Mason would completely idolize Ransom.)

Re: Derek (Hale, just to be clear, people) and Kent… Hmmm. Would they hook up? I can see ways they might end up in the same place. Derek is maybe just traveling around the Southwest for a while after finishing up whatever hunting job he agreed to help Braeden with, and he meets Kent, who is camping in some national park area with poor cell reception for the early off-season, because the Aces got knocked out of the playoffs early and he’s pissed but trying not to show it. They bump into each other at the water spigot, and while Kent found the solitude refreshing for the first day or so, now he’s going a little nuts having no one to talk to (and it’s not like he doesn’t take notice of a tall, well-built, dark-haired guy in his vicinity), so he invites Derek over to his campsite for s’mores (because bulking up during the off-season is important, dammit, and maybe he’s doing that with marshmallows this week, so what.)

And Derek is not exactly immune to a lanky guy with messy hair and a sarcastic mouth on him (and, boy, has he not been examining the why of that, no sir), so he says sure, and he finds it kind of nice to listen to Kent talk about hockey and how he’s trying to be a good captain by coming out here to sulk instead of doing it where any of his rookies might see, because it reminds Derek of who he was when his main concern was trying to lead the high school basketball team to the state championships.

Eventually the fire burns down to glowing embers, and, poking it with a stick, Kent says something about how he gets really tired of knowing everyone’s going to leave him, and yeah, he was talking about being on a multi-year contract and having to deal with what feels like half his team traded around every year, but Derek hears that there’s more behind that sentiment, and, well, he gets that. So, while he doesn’t clue Kent in to the whole existence of the supernatural, he does tell him just enough to know that “I know what you mean” isn’t just a throwaway line, and if they spend the rest of the week hiking and joking and doing… other things… because they each gave themselves permission to indulge in trying to actually feel good, to feel happy, for a week, well, no one else has to know.

They don’t try to make it work, because they know from the beginning that’s not really a thing that was ever on the table, but Derek does find himself watching the hockey TV in sports bars occasionally now instead of the baseball one, and he smiles whenever the show a highlight of a score by #90. And Kent sometimes gets postcards out of the blue from completely random places, because Derek knows that’s sometimes all you need to know you haven’t been left behind.

anonymous asked:

Hey! So this might sounds a little meh, but do you think you can help me find some Sterek fics with some detailed plots? Like where the story has just as much development as the characters. Idk I just want something good to read on the subway

Okay, So I went with Slow Build and longish. Hope that helps with the subway trips. - Anastasia

Originally posted by thehassasin

Somewhere In Between by amazingpages

(1/1 I 33,092 I Teen)

Derek’s been letting his job dictate his life ever since he was promoted from freelance photographer to official travel photographer. In his five years of travel, he’s built relationships in countries all across the globe, yet he still returns home after each job as lonely as ever. When he decides to try out the pen pal site Laura recommends to him, he doesn’t know what to expect. Derek isn’t prepared for Stiles, a small town guy with big dreams of seeing the world. And he certainly isn’t prepared to fall in love with him. He has to remind himself that this is just a pen pal thing and not to get carried away. It’s not like Stiles could ever like him back.

Right?

A Heart is a Heavy Burden by lielabell

(13/13 I 41,242 I Teen)

In Which Stiles: is accosted by unhappy witches, becomes friends with fire demons, is rescued by darkly handsome wizards, discovers hidden inner depths, is introduced to princes, and finds true love. Though not necessarily in that order.

(Or the Howl’s Moving Castle AU fusion fic you never knew you wanted but are delighted to have.)

Amor Fati by alocalband

(8/8 I 42,812 I Explicit)

When Stiles gets thrown into the bank vault about twenty minutes after him, Derek isn’t even surprised.

As it turns out, neither is Stiles.

Seeing Wolves (Where There Are No Wolves) by MellytheHun

(16/16 I 67,901 I Explicit)

Or otherwise known as “Derek Goes to the Doctor,” wherein Derek gets the therapy he so desperately needs and gets healthy. The clearer his head gets, the more room it seems to have for Stiles.

Didn’t See That Coming by knittersrevolt

(43/43 I 83,838 I Explicit)

Stiles leaves Beacon Hills in the dust after he catches his husband cheating on him.

He finds his way to New York where he starts working for the Hale House Nursery, accidentally adopts a werewolf baby (through no fault of his own thank-you-very-much), and somehow starts training to be an Exorcist Emissary. So, in general, life was going good.

Then he hears that demons have found their way into his hometown. Can he face his inner demons and go back to save the day?

Love Thy Neighbor…He’s Hot by Triangulum

(3/3 I 117,105 I Not Rated)

Derek and Laura seriously lucked out with Stiles as their neighbor. Yeah he can be loud, but he keeps it to normal hours, and he brings them food, they have movie nights, he’s so beautiful, and okay, Derek might be pining. The only problem is, Stiles has a girlfriend. And Derek HATES her.

OR

The one where Derek and Laura live next door to Stiles, and Derek has a completely out of control crush. A Sterek as neighbors one shot AU that got wildly out of control.

Pack Wars by miss_aphelion

(31/31 I 158,626 I Mature)

Scott liked to call it the Great Pack Divide of 2012.

Derek liked to call Scott an idiot.

(Or the one where Derek kidnaps Stiles to teach Scott a lesson, and ends up learning a few things himself)

Don’t Savage The Messenger by exclamation

(61/61 I 172,379 I Explicit)

There is an uneasy truce between the werewolves in the woods and the humans who live in Beacon Hills, protected by a magical boundary that gives warning any time a werewolf crosses it. Then the sheriff is taken by the werewolves and his son offers himself in exchange.

Stiles promises to serve the werewolf pack, not knowing what horrible use they might have for him. But it turns out his most useful skill is the ability to cross the boundary line between humans and werewolves. Life with the werewolves is nothing like he feared and the werewolves themselves are nothing like the hunters’ stories would have him believe.

Baking My Way Into Your Heart by theSilence

(22/22 I 178,630 I Mature)

Derek is an uptight college student, all work and no play. His carefully scheduled life is thrown kilter when his regular barista is replaced with someone new.

When Rome’s in Ruins (We are the Lions) by Kedreeva

(14/14 I 209,091 I Explicit)

Humankind has turned arena battles between supernatural creatures into its largest form of entertainment. Stiles Stilinski is a well-known warden who comes to arena-fighter Derek Hale to make him an offer.

Indelible Marks by billtheradish

(87/87 I 295,695 I Mature)

The house never burned. The pack is strong. Derek will never need to be the alpha, and his sister is a troll. (Actually, most of his family is like that.)

Derek is an apprentice tattoo artist, and Stiles isn’t old enough to get ink of his own yet. But that doesn’t stop him from being interesting…

(This story is now out of buffer, but I will always announce when the next update will be, and am trying to keep to a regular posting schedule. Also, please be advised that this is essentially a rough draft. That doesn’t mean it’s riddled with typos, every chapter is edited, just that the overarching plot and side stories haven’t had a chance to be edited in full yet–but they will be. An edited version of this story will be posted eventually, so if the current length isn’t your cup of tea, just come back later.)

The Feeling That I’m Under by wearing_tearing

(20/20 I 289,584 I Explicit)

Stiles is a paramedic and Derek gets into a bike accident.

It’s kind of love at first sight.

Keep Me Where The Light Is - A Moriel Fic

For @acotarshipweek moriel smut week day 1 prompt: ‘I’m sorry’. I am Late. I am very late. I want to do a couple of other prompts for this week and they will probably be…very late. I am garbage. We know this. Thank you my dearest, @pterodactylichexameter for betaing this for me!!

Title: Keep Me Where The Light Is

Summary: Prompt: ‘I’m sorry’ established relationship, set a few decades after the projected end of ACOWAR. Azriel returns late from a particularly harrowing mission. Mor finds him alone and in pieces in the training room and helps him heal. Lots of angst. Lots of sin. That’s really all you need to know. Azriel’s POV. Obviously NSFW. 

Teaser:  Mor leads him through the quiet, dark house, the door closing behind them as silently as it had opened. It might have felt like bars slamming shut on a prison cell, or the stone wall of a crypt sealing himself inside his own tomb but it doesn’t. With Mor’s hand slipping gently into his the dark house feels like an escape and he has left his demons at the door. They are not allowed in this place that she has warded with her light and her peace. She is the only thing with the power to bring him to his knees that is permitted to touch him here.  

Link: AO3

Azriel stalks into the training halls beneath the House of Wind a second, haunting soul tethered to the broken, battered one that resides within his body. The one that once was his and his alone. Now it belongs to all those who have stolen pieces from it over the decades, the ones he has killed or tortured or blackmailed or threatened for the sake of his court. His body has become a cemetery for all those he has claimed, having their revenge each day for what he did to them. It is a graveyard of monsters; his ghosts were demons long before he shattered their minds and buried them with the remnants of his soul.

That knowledge doesn’t ease the burden that threatens to finally break him at last.

Six hundred years. There are scars he’s carried upon his heart, his mind for six hundred years that have refused to fade as stubbornly as the marks upon his hands. Every day he wakes with the reminder of what his brothers did to him, the reminder of that fire, their cruelty, that terror written upon his skin. And upon his soul is the reminder of what he has done, his own cruelty, his own sins, inked in blood and screams and just as inescapable. Too much. He has crossed some line, some line he didn’t think existed. But this is too much. This is finally too much.

It had taken hours to break the deserter, hours to understand the reasons behind his betrayal, why he had slaughtered four of his brothers, what he had hoped to gain, what secrets he had hoped to sell to their enemies. Those secrets died with him. Azriel was the last person ever to hear them and all those others who were involved have since been taken care of. His people are safe, his family is safe but he…he….

The screams still bother him. They shouldn’t, surely, after all this time. But they do. They still cut through him like that first day. He still remembers the soldier, his first. Rhys’s father had stood outside the room and looked down at him, his eyes the same violet as his brother’s but…Cold, dark, utterly devoid of Rhys’s compassion. He had told Azriel the man was an enemy, was working to destroy everything they knew, everything they had built. He had told him to discover what the male knew then to…take care of him. Azriel had done as commanded.

He still does as commanded. He knows that if he ever felt the strain becoming too much, if he went to his brother and told him that he couldn’t do this anymore, that six hundred years of death and nightmares filled with agony were too much that Rhys would let him step down immediately. He could shake off the role of spymaster, live somewhere quietly, peacefully, with Mor without the need for these grisly interruptions in the life they loved so much. He also knows that it would leave the court undefended, that no-one can do what he can. And he would never wish them to, would never wish this upon anyone.

For all that they haunt him now he knows that if a day ever comes when the screams inside him go silent, when they no longer haunt his every step…that will be the day he becomes a monster in full and more of a danger to this court than he could ever be a guardian.

But he still wishes it would stop now, wishes he could stop reliving the last few hours, wishes he could find a moment of peace, just for a second, just a second, please, please.  

The training hall is dark and quiet at this hour, no-one else is out of their beds feeling the need to hit something, to work off the terrible, raging, consuming frustration that seems as though it’s about to burst free of the restraining cage of his bones. He is the only one awake now…And his ghosts.

He steps to one of the corners of the hall where several braced pads have been set up, soft wood covered by layers and layers of thick fabric, making them solid but safe to hit. Along the wall behind them, set out in neat rows like soldiers, like the neatly printed orders that find their way to his desk and tear another chunk of him, are variously sized gloves meant to be worn in the ring or when training alone with the targets. He ignores them.

His hands are still covered in dried blood from his last mission and he doesn’t bother to try and cleanse them, to rid himself of that reminder of what he has done, what he is. Monster the darkness whispers to him. He shivers at the accusation but can’t bring himself to feel betrayed by it. When they had come to him in his childhood and promised him power, promised him salvation, the shadows that sing to him had not promised him comfort or sweet words. They had only promised truth. That was all they had ever given to him in the six hundred years they had served him.

Settling into the stance that’s as familiar to him now as breathing, Az sets his eyes upon the pad before him. His punches start off rhythmic and controlled, careful taps gauging distance, then stronger flurries of blows taught in the training camps and drills. But those aren’t enough, aren’t enough to quiet the roaring in his head, aren’t enough to douse the fire boiling his blood, aren’t enough to silence the screams rattling through his bones.

He increases his pace, his attacks becoming less practiced, less rhythmic, more wild and untamed as he feels himself slipping. Control, through all these years control has been his sword, his shield, his armour, his anchor. Keeping himself in check had always meant keeping himself alive. But sometimes, in the dark, in the quiet, the monsters slip out to reclaim their own.

His arms swing in wide arcs, wasting time, wasting power, all the things he was specifically taught not to do. His hands strike harder and harder and the sudden blaze of pain that sparks up his arms is a welcome feeling. It grounds him and for a moment it helps. It’s a release, an expression of the things that he must keep inside, that he must not let escape, that he must bind tight to himself lest they poison anyone else. The pulse of relief is only ever temporary.

His vision blurs and the room around him dissolves, reforming into another that is dark and cramped and smells strongly of blood and despair. He is crouched on the floor, his expression cool, composed even as he crumbles into ruins on the inside, as the man screams before him. His fist makes contact with the pad at a blinding speed and strength again and again and again and the harsh, unyielding rhythm is the only thing that’s stopping him from sinking to his knees and letting the darkness within overwhelm him at last.

The skin between his knuckles splits and blood seeps from the cracks in his self. He ignores it, even as it pulses in thin scarlet ribbons over his palms and the backs of his hands, thick and hot and wet, clenched between his fingers. But he’s too focused on the screaming in his head, in banishing it, in chasing the past that tugs at him, tries to slip its arms around him and draw him back towards it, like a scorned lover. But he won’t let it, can’t let it, if he gives into that now there will be no saving him, no finding him, no dragging him from that abyss, not for anything.

The one corner of his mind that can think past his pain and his fear dimly registers the sound of distant footsteps, frantic, running, running towards him.

“Azriel!”  

The scream rips through the thick veil that’s shrouding him from his surroundings, pierced only by the soft pulses of pain that come from the continued striking of his fists against the pads. His name. Her voice. His name in her mouth. The running footsteps, hers too he realises vaguely, get closer, faster, louder, thundering like a heartbeat against the smooth stone floors of the training hall.

“Azriel! Azriel stop, please stop, Az-“ He shudders, her voice growing more distant, her words blending with the words of his captor as he had begged for an end.

“Azriel, Az look at me, look at me, listen to me.” She doesn’t touch him but her voice strikes a chord in him like a physical blow all the same as he registers the deep throb of fear and agony that runs through it. He raises his head, looks over at her, his vision still slightly bleary, as though he’s seeing her through a thick, choking fog. “Stop,” she whispers, orders, pleads. “Stop, Az.”

This time, for her, he obeys the words.

Trembling he lets his hands drop. They’re stiff and sore from the damage done to them and the fresh blood that’s starting to dry over the old. Mor’s eyes are fixed on them where they hang limp and useless at his sides, wide and horrified at what he’s done. Reaching down she tries to gently take hold of one of them but the moment her skin brushes against his he jerks violently away from her.

Centuries worth of disgust and doubt well up in him and overwhelm him. Though they’ve been together for over fifty years now and though he loves her and knows and accepts that she loves him- in that moment, the sight of her soft, smooth, unmarred hand brushing against his burned, twisted, bloody one is unbearable to him.

The brief flash of hurt that flares in her warm brown eyes twists in his gut a moment later and she pulls backs, pain flooding her beautiful face. All she wants, he knows, is to be able to reach out to him, to help him, and his rejection stings with the weight of five hundred years of distance and denial.

His remaining strength crumbles at the sight of what he’s done to her and the words come to his lips in a hoarse, breathless rasp, “I’m sorry.” Her eyes flick back up to his but he drops his gaze almost the moment they connect, unable to bring himself to look at her. His chest is still heaving from his recent exertion, his blood still drips quietly onto the stone floor at their feet, his vision still swims and blurs but he breathes again, “I’m sorry.”

Mor opens her mouth to answer but it turns into a cry of alarm as he sways on the spot a moment before his knees buckle. Faster than he can see she darts forwards, her arms sliding around his chest, and catches him. Sinking to the ground with him she lowers him down with heartbreaking tenderness, gentling his fall.

Her fingers stroke lightly through his hair as she steadies him but he can’t stop saying those words over and over and over apologising for a multitude of sins. He’s sorry for getting into this state in the first place but more so for letting her see him like this. He’s sorry for what he’s done, what he’s become, what he’s had to do to stop their court from drowning. But he’s also sorry for the things that he didn’t do, the things that he didn’t stop, the people that he didn’t save with his brand of death. And he’s sorry for her. Sorry for ever thinking that he could be with her, that they could make this work, that it could ever last- a dreamer and a nightmare in love.

As though she can hear these thoughts Mor pushes back his hair and cups his face between her hands, lifting it up to hers. “Look at me,” she whispers when he closes his eyes, averting his gaze, “Look at me, Azriel.” He can’t deny her anything, not her, and he makes himself meet those usually soft, tender brown eyes which he now finds blazing with fierce intensity. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she whispers to him, pressing her lips to his forehead and then touching her brow to his, her thumbs gently stroking his cheeks, “Nothing.”  

Unable to help himself he lowers his head again, shaking. What he’s done- But she picks up that dropped thread of thought as well, “You’re a good person,” she breathes and he snorts in derision before he can control the impulse. Anger flashes through her and with it a lashing of her power crackling through the air around them, “You are,” she growls.

Her voice softens but still radiates with that unmistakable power as she says those words, the ones that bind her to the magic that thrums in her veins, “I am the Morrigan,” she murmurs, “You know I speak the truth.”

He raises his head and opens his eyes to watch her as she repeats the words, “You’re a good person, Azriel. You do what you have to, for your court. You do too much,” A crease appears between her brows, this isn’t the first time she’s said something like this, expressed her unease at the things he has to do, at the cost of keeping them safe.  “But you don’t take any pleasure in it, you never have. We all have to do things, become things we would rather not…” She trails off and he knows that she of all people understands that, she who spends more time in the Court of Nightmares pretending to be something she’s not, pretending to be something darker, something worse, than any of them.

Taking a breath she goes on, “It doesn’t change who you are.” Then, softer, “It doesn’t change how I feel, what I want…What I chose.”

He meets her eyes again at that, searching them for he doesn’t know what, yet he finds it. “I fell in love with you, Az,” she murmurs softly, “With all of you.” He swallows tightly, watching her, barely daring to breathe, to move. “I always knew,” she continues quietly, “I knew what you were, I knew what you did for this court, I knew how you would come home to me sometimes-“ Despite her attempts at reassuring calm and certainty her voice trembles and cracks a little as she looks at him, the state he’s in. But it’s perfectly steady once more when she resumes. “I chose that,” she says, firm, certain, “I chose you. I love you.” She leans forwards and brushes her lips with aching tenderness against his, “I always will.”

Reaching down she lifts his hands up and examines them, wincing at the mess of bruised, bloodied flesh he’s made of his knuckles. Absently taking what she needs from a pocket realm she produces water and cloths and proceeds to clean enough of the blood to see through to the injuries below. Light blazes from her palm and he tries not to fidget as her magic heals him, his bones resetting themselves and sealing together, muscle and skin knitting seamlessly together again. She can’t do anything about the extensive burn scars that mottle his hands but when he flexes them it’s almost impossible to tell the damage he had done to himself. The only evidence of the abuse remaining is a faint pale flush to the new skin.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice low and quiet, not quite looking at her as he speaks, not wanting to see the pain or the disappointment on her face at what he had done to himself.

He realises a moment later, as he turns his hands over, examining them, that she’s cleansed all of the blood from his skin, not merely his own.

Azriel lets his arms slide slowly around her, holding her close, breathing in her scent, grounding himself in her instead of the pads behind them. Mor shuffles into his lap and slides her arms around him as well, easing her fingers deeply into his hair, pulling him close.

“Are you ready to talk about it?” she murmurs quietly. She never asks him if he wants to talk about it, knows from decades’ worth of experience not to ask if he wants, or needs, almost anything because the answer would always be ‘no’.

He shakes his head slightly, his face still buried in her neck. He still only wants to escape from himself, from the torrent of memories and pain and terror that still rakes at him. He isn’t ready to face it yet. She nods, gently kissing the crown of his head, not pushing him or trying to coax words from him that he doesn’t have. Even though she’s never insisted upon this in all the years that he’s known her, a faint rush of gratitude for her understanding still spills through him in response.

Mor’s fingers stroke softly through his hair and she shifts slightly in his lap, hips pressing against his. “What do you want, Az?” she asks him quietly and he knows that she’s perfectly aware what he wants, what kind of escape he seeks now, the need that’s blazing through his blood like a poison to which she is the only cure.

You he wants to whisper, wants to growl the word, the need, into her ear and feel her shiver against him in answer. He wants to drag her hair back and kiss her neck, place a necklace of pale red marks around her throat and with each one whisper you onto her skin, press it there like a tattoo, let it fill her up until she’s drowning in it. But he holds himself back. He knows that after their time apart she likely wants this too, would be more than happy to oblige him but…The way that he wants her, the extent to which he wants to lose himself in her tonight…He’s not sure if he can ask that of her, not sure if he can even give voice to it and permit her to hear it.

As with so many things left unspoken between them however, this isn’t something that she needs to hear him say to know. Her fingers gently grip his hair, the action somehow intimate, erotic, with the way she rocks against him once more. “Let me take you home,” she whispers softly. “Let me help you, Az,” she breathes quietly. “It’s all right,” she murmurs as he opens his mouth to say something, to protest, to quiet her, to agree with her, he doesn’t know.  

“It’s all right.” Her voice is soft and warm and so soothing he wants to sink into it, wants to sink into her and forget that the rest of the world exists, forget that he is a monster with a bruised and bloodied soul. He wants to let her heal that as she had his hands.

“Let me take you home,” she says again, softly, words tinged with desperation.

“Yes,” is all he murmurs in response.

Darkness envelopes them as Mor holds him close and then her power wraps around them, pulling them through the fragile fabric of the world around them, winnowing them back to the small cottage they share nestled in the mountains just outside Velaris. It’s a lonely, quiet place, isolated but beautiful and peaceful. Relief flares through him like a heartbeat along with a rush of gratitude that she chose this spot instead of their townhouse. Even though it resides on the outskirts of the city it would still feel too restrictive, too caging and overwhelming for him now. And she knows that, knows him.  

Azriel stands, quiet, breathing in the chill night air, willing it to settle in his bones and quiet the roaring fire burning through his blood. Mor’s fingers slip softly around his wrist and the touch rouses him, causes him to open his eyes again. Her eyes on his she presses her other hand against the door of the cottage. It responds to her touch, swinging in on silent hinges to admit them. Only them. This is their place, near sacred for how strictly they adhere to that rule.

Mor leads him through the quiet, dark house, the door closing behind them as silently as it had opened. It might have felt like bars slamming shut on a prison cell, or the stone wall of a crypt sealing himself inside his own tomb but it doesn’t. With Mor’s hand slipping gently into his the dark house feels like an escape and he has left his demons at the door. They are not allowed in this place that she has warded with her light and her peace. She is the only thing with the power to bring him to his knees that is permitted to touch him here.  

She doesn’t pause or falter as they pass through the kitchen and living room into the small bedroom at the back of the house. Only once they’re safely ensconced within it, the door closed, making the scene feel even more private and intimate despite the fact that they’re already the only living beings for miles around, does she turn to face him. With a faint flicker of thought she kindles a few candles behind them and the room fills with a warm but soft glow, her eyes never leaving his even as the light no doubt throws the shadows in his eyes into greater relief.

Smooth and supple as warm honey she steps forwards until there’s nothing but a faint breath of air between their bodies. She holds herself just a little away from him however, her lips slightly parted, her hands trembling with the desire, the need to touch him, but she restrains herself, allowing him the choice, the affirming action, of closing the distance between them. He does, unable to stand being this close to her but not touching her, not letting her touch him. Moving in until their bodies press against each other and he can feel the sigh of relief ripple through her body as she lets herself melt against him, Azriel gathers her against him, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her in close.  

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Battle Scars

Imagine living in Laketown while the elves are helping rebuild the town and developing a crush on Thranduil who, after talking to you for a few weeks, decides he’d like to take you back to Mirkwood with him.

Warning: Mentions of blood, war, death, and the like.


The ringing of clashing steel had finally ceased. What remained was a suffocating silence, interrupted only by the groans of the wounded and dying. Even those seemed muffled by the thickened air settling upon the crumbling city.

Laketown had been entirely decimated by Smaug’s fire and Dale, the haven to which you had fled, was little better. The battle had taken its toll. Orcs had burned many a building, corpses littered the dusty cobbles, while everything else had already been battered by years of desolation.

The stone city slowly awakened as the elderly and young who had hidden from the assault emerged. Shock filled the air and survivors numbly began to tend to those bleeding along the streets. Red streams trickled between the stones and ash blackened the walls. The smell of iron choked your lungs as you stood amidst the ruins.

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Nesta’s New Armour

This is for Nessian Smut Week (fans myself ‘cause boi is it getting hot). You should probably have a mature mind before reading the story. *But let’s all establish that dirty minds are welcomed as well!* Anyways fair warning this is the first time I have ever attempted any sort of smutty goodness…or in this case it could be a crash and burn smutty fic! Let me know what you think and I will try to improve my writing style!

            Nesta walked through the Illyrian camp with commanding posture. She had just finished helping the younger trainees during their agility exercises. Nesta made it a point to train both the females and males together to bring forth positive connections. Considering how the older males were a bad influence on demeaning the females Nesta made it a point to demolish those negative views. Perhaps overtime the younger generation will work side-by-side without the threat of cutting off wings and having a sole purpose for breeding. The thought of it made Nesta shiver in rage at the thought of the females’ wings being clipped and told they had to breed.

           The warmer season was finally here. Snow flurries turned into sleet and the frosty air gradually warmed to melt the snow that blanketed the pine trees and ground. Nesta was glad that today harbored mostly clear skies. A perfect day for the Illyrians to fly and train in the sky.

           Nesta passed by the last training rings filled with sparring soldiers. She nodded her head in greeting to a few of them who returned her greeting with respect.

           It had taken a considerable amount of time to earn the respect she received from most of the Illyrians. Nesta didn’t regret one moment of the fights of steel will, wit and blade that enabled her to have the valued position she held.

           It didn’t take long to walk through the tented areas centered around large fire pits. She neared the tree line where permanent buildings stood against the backdrop of the forest. The gray stone reflected light from the sun and smoke filtered from the chimneys.

           Evening had settled by the time she had finished training the younger ones and honestly she was ready for a hot meal and warm bath. Nesta entered one of the gray houses. Rhysand’s mother previously owned it. Cassian usually made sure that him and Nesta would have the building during their stays at the camps. Some of the generals still gave them shit for it, but they couldn’t argue too much since there had been five more buildings recently built to help house the Illyrians. Two of them were made specifically for the younger ones. Cassian was extremely proud of those homes and made a point to make sure it was up-kept by the residents. Then there was one building to house the sick and injured to make sure their recovery process was quickened. No sense of being out in the cold with injuries and illnesses when they could be quickly treated indoors. The fifth new house was home to the strongest Illyrians who proved their worth. It was a reward that many Illyrians sought and thus made the soldiers work harder to earn a room.

           Nesta entered the house her and Cassian shared this month. She looked around the front room. The kitchen, living area and dining room were empty. There were no sounds coming from upstairs, which meant Cassian was still with the war generals in a meeting. Usually Nesta accompanied him to the meetings, but she decided to train the young ones today instead.

           Nesta smiled. This meant would have time to bathe and try on the new Illyrian leathers she received from one of the female warriors who was skilled in tailoring. It was one of the new types of fighting gear designed specifically for a woman’s body. Nesta was thrilled to try it on considering most of the armour she tried on fit either too loose or far too tight.

            She went to the far end of the house and opened the door to the bathing room. It was cramped, but Nesta was thankful that the home even had a tub that offered warm water along with a toilet and sink. Within minutes she finished bathing and went up the narrow staircase to the room she shared with Cassian.

           She wondered when her mate would arrive back from his meeting. Sometimes he would be gone long into the night. Tonight though she wanted him back home and in their bed. They were so preoccupied with the camps this past week that they didn’t have a moment of free time to vent out the sexual tension that rippled through them. A few times Nesta wanted to tackle Cassian in the ring whenever he would send her suggestive images of what he wanted to do to her. Many of which involved them rolling around in the mud and releasing the beasts that lingered inside them. The kind of beasts that didn’t care who was watching or where they were when they claimed each other in the most intrinsic ways possible. Nesta had shot back similar images along with a gaze that made Cassian narrow his eyes in want.

           Nesta decided that tonight she was going to give Cassian a taste of those images they sent each other down the bond.

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Ease My Mind - Part 9

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is your best friend and, of course, you’re in love with him. But apparently Bucky is just fine with your platonic relationship - you’re going to have to do something about that.

Warnings: unprotected sex (use condoms people, STI’s are real and out there), luke cage spoilers

A/N: we’re finally here! the second last part, and the smutty part ;) i hope you like it! and another cliff hanger, i know, but at this point are you really expecting anything else?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

You stumble across Steve outside Bucky’s room, which makes both of you draw up short. You freeze in your tracks, Bucky’s hands stilling on your hips and his chest hitting your back while you stare wide-eyed up at Steve and try to be the paragon of innocence he knows you aren’t.

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky says easily from over your shoulder. Steve glances between you and Bucky, his eyes gradually narrowing like he’s figuring something out.

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mythoesoul’s monthly fic rec #2; friends to lovers

hi guys! so, here is the fic rec for november! (i know its a tad late, shhh) for this month, i wanted to do a theme for the rec so i focused on fics following the trope friends to lovers. there are some enemies to friends to lovers and some soulmate fics in here but yeah. also, there might be some stories from my first rec on here but, eh. 

— my other fic recs can be found here.

1. a love like religion by alisvolatpropiis (@deleted-scenes) 

“Derek, my man, you missed an epic party on Saturday. Seriously, dude, I know morning Mass is like, your thing, but come on. You’re missing on out so much life has to offer, bro.”

Big hands land on shoulders with a thump and a squeeze while Derek stands at his locker, loading his gigantic calculus book into his backpack. He gives his best friend a practiced sidelong glare, which of course just encourages him. “You’ll change your mind when I tell you who sucked me off in Lydia Martin’s bedroom,” Stiles snickers into his ear.

Despite himself, Derek is curious. He tries to hide it by focusing on his books, but he knows the heat in his cheeks betrays him. “Who,” he asks, giving in, knowing he will eventually.

2. can’t be hateful, gotta be grateful by halffizzbin

the one where the Stilinski men drag Derek to Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma’s and she gets the

right

wrong idea.

3. five times detective stilinski and fire captain hale had sex in public, and one time they did it in a bed by @bleep0bleep 

“Did you say–” Stiles starts.

“What?” Derek growls.

“We’re not a couple!” they both retort in unison.

“We’re not together,” Stiles insists.

Lydia coughs pointedly. “An incident report filed by 87th Precinct Captain Erica Reyes. March twenty-fifth, eight p.m. Came back to the precinct to grab my coat, only to hear Stilinski banging his new boyfriend in the holding cell.”

4. grey rainbows by @loveactually-rps 

“Stiles?” Derek glanced at Stiles’ sleeping form. He didn’t even twitch. Derek continued. “If we…” his lips curved in a fond smile, fingers moving to smooth the creases of Stiles’ eyebrows, his voice coming as whisper. “… as in, you and me - If we get a chance someday… any day, to be together, y’know? I wouldn’t mind you wooing me with flowers and all that cliched romantic shit. And you can even flirt with me. I approve.”


He gazed at Stiles’ calm face for a long while before drifting off into quiet slumber with the sound of Stiles’ soft snoring in the background.


[aka, after pinning for his best friend for four years, Derek learns his teenage crush is easy, but his life isn’t]

5. i feel we’re close enough by @samann98

the one in which Derek and Stiles are childhood friends, their freshman year of high school Derek makes the craziest suggestion ever, and four years later Stiles decides to take him up on it.

6. nothing but trouble by @hoechlbutt

Stiles and Scott, smugglers, come across an abandoned ship in the middle of nowhere. While looting the ship for goods and valuables, they find an unconscious crew member, who turns out to be a prince. With bounty hunters on their asses, they fly across the galaxy in search for the prince’s lost family.

7. of werewolves and dolphins by Ilovesocks_24

the one where Scott convinces Stiles to go on a werewolf singles cruise. Stiles is really only going for the dolphins. Until he meets Derek

8. shower boyfriends by @paintedrecs

Derek likes sticking to his routines: they give his days structure and keep his goals on track. His carefully maintained habits have never been more important than at college, and by his second year, he’s gotten everything exactly the way he wants it. He has the ideal roommate, the best dorm on campus, and a fascinating set of classes in a schedule that lets him sleep in.

But when mysterious messages start appearing on his dorm’s shower wall, Derek can’t seem to resist searching for answers

9. somewhere in between by @miss-emrys

Derek’s been letting his job dictate his life ever since he was promoted from freelance photographer to official travel photographer. In his five years of travel, he’s built relationships in countries all across the globe, yet he still returns home after each job as lonely as ever. When he decides to try out the pen pal site Laura recommends to him, he doesn’t know what to expect. Derek isn’t prepared for Stiles, a small town guy with big dreams of seeing the world. And he certainly isn’t prepared to fall in love with him. He has to remind himself that this is just a pen pal thing and not to get carried away. It’s not like Stiles could ever like him back.

Right?

10. strut on a line, its discord and rhyme by @xiaq

“Carry me,” Stiles says.

“No.”

“But I’m injured.”

“You have a rash,” Derek says. “On your arm. Your feet work just fine.”

“Please?”

“No. You weigh almost as much as I do. And you ate a pound of chicken at lunch.”

“Well, yeah, but I pooped like an hour ago, so.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Don’t play, you love me.”

I do, Derek thinks, relatively horrified. I really do.

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The Door to Narnia


Summary: 
Dan stops by an IKEA to pick up an old trunk and a stranger suddenly bursts out of a wardrobe exclaiming, “For Narnia!”

Genre: Producer!Dan, AU, Fluff, Actor!Phil

Warnings: none

A/N: Hello everyone! Today while writing my Hogwarts Phan AU I wanted to take a break. The product of this break was this oneshot, based on this text post.  Starring special guests Ian and Anthony from Smosh. I didn’t really edit much, this is just a fic dump. I’m sorry if it isn’t very good, but I do hope you like it! Please enjoy and I would really appreciate reblogs and reviews!


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anonymous asked:

Hii!! So I read Know You Got That Thing (that i like) a while ago and I liked it so much the smut was really good in it. Can you recommend me similar fics? Where it's short and doesn't have tons of angst but still has a nice little plot..

So short (<15k) and smutty but not pure pwp, right ?

It’s gonna be long, so under the cut !

(you can add all the fics of the The 30-Day Smut Challenge  )

- know you got that thing (that i like) : In all the ways he thought about their reunion going, watching Louis finger himself open was not on the list. (15k)

- Sail Your Sea, Meet Your Storm : Louis is thirty, single, and a bit of a workaholic. He’s happy with his life, but then his mother decides to buy him tickets for a Singles Cruise. Appalled that his family thinks he can’t handle his own love life, he steps aboard the ship determined to have a terrible time.That is, of course, until a persistent brunet keeps offering him drinks.The strangers to enemies to friends to pining to lovers fic where Louis is cynical, Harry is charming, and they have seven days to get their shit together. (14k)

- i can be the motor (you’ll be the gasoline) : Harry is a British pop star living in LA. While trying to escape his reality of publicity stunts and record sales, his Harley breaks down. Stranded in the mountains, Harry has no choice but to call for help. And, somehow, a fit tow truck driver with the ocean in his eyes might end up fixing more than just Harry’s bike. (8k)

- It’s Never Enough : “Yeah? What else?” Harry asks anyways. Louis doesn’t know he’s a history professor and Harry doesn’t want to tell him because he doesn’t want to, like, offend him or embarrass him or something. He really, really likes the sound of Louis’ voice and doesn’t want him to stop talking. Ever. “The first attack was led by the Catholics.” Right. “And they just, like, stormed Jerusalem and took over.” Mostly wrong, but Harry just lets him talk, lets him explain (more like make up) everything in the section. (Basically; Harry is a history professor who fancies Louis, the fit bloke that works at his favorite museum. Louis doesn’t know anything about history and he definitely doesn’t know Harry’s a professor. Featuring an awful blind date, some inappropriate grinding in Ancient Rome, and a handful of mishaps.) (12k)

- hear your voice, in the backseat of my car : Louis gracelessly dropped the back of his seat so he could slide himself into the backseat, the fit tight and cramped and almost too warm.  He was unbuttoning his pants when he paused for a moment and took in the sight before him. “Christ.  Look at you.”  Louis stopped and just took in what he was seeing.  He was speechless and a little overwhelmed but very, very ready to see what would happen next.  Louis drives a cab.   Harry needs a ride. (8k)

- Our blood is boiling : “I can’t believe you’re making me this angry when it’s almost midnight and I’m not even drunk. You know what? I could take you down right here, right now—”“You’re red.” Harry interrupts, his lips curving up into a smug grin. “Am I making you red?”Louis purses his lips and absentmindedly brings a hand up to feel his cheek. It’s definitely warm. God, how can he even come back from this? [Louis meets indie singer Harry Styles, otherwise known as the bane of his existence, at a pub.] (6.5k)

- Fire and Ice : Harry really wants to come at the same time as Louis. Or, four times they misfire and the one time they get it right. (10k)

- Like You Hate Me : “You have poor taste for someone with the last name Styles,” he says, turning to show the back of his pants to Harry—the pants Harry had just stitched his name across last night to keep this type of thing from happening again.Of course, he’s accomplished nothing but indirectly making himself pop a stiffy over Louis fucking Tomlinson. (6.5k)

- I Built This Bed For Two (I Built This Bed For Me and You): Harry and Louis broke up after uni and haven’t seen each other since—until they’re roped into doing a Buzzfeed video together. Featuring awkward cuddling and a reunion that just needed a kick in the arse, gleefully provided by Niall. (10k)

- it’s hard to look right at you, baby: Coffee Shop AU where Louis is going through a dry spell, Zayn wants to be a good friend and help Louis find someone, and Harry ends up finding him instead.[or the one where louis is ‘hella fucking gay and desperately single’ and harry wants to change that last part.] (14k)

- Take Me To Your Heart  : Harry blinked at him for a second, and shit, they made eye contact. “Never gonna give, never gonna give…” the man sang, pointing at Harry to sing the next line. “Come on, curly!” Harry wasn’t sure whether or not to indulge him. He just wanted to go back to sleep, but he knew from experience that sometimes, ignoring lively drunks did not make the problem go away. “Give you up.” Harry replied, before laying his head back against the window and closing his eyes. “Yeah!” The man cried, and to Harry’s despair he sat down next to him. “Had a good night?” “I’ve been working.” Harry mumbled, eyes still closed. “Oh. I’ve got a few days off at the moment, so just been out with my mates. I’m Louis, by the way.” — London Night Bus AU where all Harry wants to do is sleep, but he has a drunk man singing at him. (6k)

- Taste of a Poison Paradise : Louis notices Harry’s mouth right away. (10k)

- Forget Your Ex :  He just had to get right back on the horse, that’s what Harry kept telling himself. It was what Nick had told him he should do too, because after all, wasn’t that the way to get over someone; to get under someone else? Sayings like that had to exist for a reason… When Harry’s boyfriend of two years leaves him for someone else, it’s fair to say he’s rather a bit upset, but his friends have a solution for him. Nick and Niall are hosting a start of term house party at their flat, having invited everyone they know from uni. Who knows, with a bit of luck Harry can find a rebound shag and finally forget his ex… (9k)

- I know that it’s complicated, but I’m a loser in love so baby : Harry is smart, but when he talks he sounds like a blithering idiot, so he stays in the back and bakes cakes. Louis is bubbly and wonderful, he is eccentric and sees past Harry’s speech impediment. And when they are in bed Harry surprises both of them with his dirty talk. Woo! (14k)

- once like a spark : Louis is a bartender, and Harry is just his type.  "Can I get you anything else?“ Louis asks and shimmies his hips along to the beat of the music. Zayn is giving him a look from the other end of the bar, frowning slightly at the line of people waiting to get a drink. Louis rolls his eyes and shrugs and turns his attention back to the boy, who ruffles his fringe and gives Louis a little lopsided grin. (7k)

- as deep as the sky: A passed-out omega on the bathroom floor isn’t exactly what Harry had in mind when he thought about taking a cute boy home. The idea of leaving Louis there, vulnerable and unresponsive, weighs guiltily at Harry’s conscience. Turns out it’s the best decision he’ll ever make. (12k)

- Unraveling : Harry sat there with his head in his hands trying to figure out why he knew these types of things. He thought over the past few weeks, how he’d just known at certain times what Louis had been thinking or feeling, needing or wanting and it didn’t make sense to him. Until he had the wild thought, “Can I read Louis’s mind?” (10k)

- Rated R       : Louis gifts Harry with a surprise sex tape, and it accidentally makes its way into Harry’s family Christmas party. Ridiculousness ensues. (7k)

- Worlds Away: prompt:  astronaut au fic where Louis is staying on the international space station and Harry is on earth working ground control and he and Louis have really quiet late night chats after most of the workers are gone and get to know each other in the biggest long distance relationship u could ever have…then eventually Louis comes back to earth and they have a beautiful meeting (7k)

- Talk Dirty When You Talk To Me  : After a night out with Stan, Louis gets a dirty text message from a unknown number. Thinking its his best friend he replies. It turns out to be a boy named Harry. An experience Louis’ never had before happens after a heated discussion with said boy. (8k)

- if i had the chance, the things i would do to you : Niall sighs. He leans forward, pushing his mug of tea carefully to the side, before bracing his elbows on the table, chin in his hands. It makes him look like some sort of bottle-blonde cherub. “You have quite the fanbase, Harry. I’m not denying that. And you’ve done a good job of popping out every once in a while in the past two years, just to make sure you’re still talked about. But that’s all you’ve done, and I’m not satisfied. I want more.” He blinks at Harry. “Don’t you want more?”(Or: AU where Harry and Louis compete in the Lip Sync Battle) (15k)

- This Road Leads Where Your Heart Is : Alright, so Louis has a bit of a type is the thing.  And as fit as his supermodel flatmate (Harry) may be, he isn’t what Louis is looking for in a potential partner.  That’s all.  He’s not Louis’ type, with his miles of lanky limbs and his bright, boyish eyes.  His impossibly tight, little body and infectious laughter are not what Louis wants.  They’re not.  Really. (14k)

- zipping across the stars : One Direction consists of five people; Louis, Zayn, Niall, Liam, and Gemma. When the band preforms at Wembley Stadium the boys are introduced to Gemma’s younger brother Harry.Louis wishes he had known that before he threw himself at the boy for six hours but he can’t stop now can he? (10k)

- Rather this than live without you : Harry decides to give it all up. Louis refuses to be left behind. (11k)

Update (last update on April 4th)

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Don’t Hurt Yourself

Reader x Namjoon

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Cheating,Implied sex,Cursing

Part 1

I am the dragon breathing fire. Beautiful man I’m the lion
Beautiful man I know you’re lying….


You were mad as hell.

So you came home from work and sat down on the couch, waiting on him for one last time. Head held high, poised and collected. Muscled coiled and ready to pounce.

Just like clockwork, keys slide into the door and Namjoon comes in at a quarter to three, completely unaware of the situation he just stepped into. Looking up he stops, surprised to find you sitting in the living room. He can feel something is off. Sense it in your body language, see the difference in your eyes. For a minute, he wonders if you know what he’s been doing all night long…but that’s impossible right? How could you possibly know?

But you did know.

You watched nonchalantly as he flashed a casual grin your way. “Hey babe…what are you doing up so late?“ You didn’t respond right away, taking the time examine him closely before you decide to speak.

“Where were you tonight?”

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