the one with crinkle nose and all his wrinkles are showing

She has no throne. Girls without thrones should not have knights, but hers won’t go. Princess Zelda – the girl who killed Calamity – would love to fade into legend, but Link’s bought a house, he’s fighting off monsters, and he’s selling giant horses to strangely familiar Gerudo men. She’ll never have any peace now. (ao3)  

Keep reading

here is a college!au jungkook x art student! reader au~ 
the jungkook here is based of my original college!jungkook au
another altered commission post, hope you guys enjoy!! 

  • you meet jungkook because one way or another you both like art
  • you just happen to be a more hands on person, enjoying illustration and printmaking while jungkook tinkers around with digital art and creating models with practiced algorithms
  • actually,,,,,you’re not even in the class for gaming design - jungkook is and he just so happens to be great at all things computer
  • but,,,,,,,,,,creating characters,,,,,,,,,,,for games,,,,,,,like his own characters,,,,,,,well um,,,,,,creativity machine broken????
  • which is where you come in, you’ve never been close to jungkook in the way you’ve known yoongi and namjoon who have had classes in the art departments with you
  • but you know him well enough to recognize him barrelling through the uni cafeteria, laptop threatening to fall out of his unzipped backpack and three pens stuck behind his ears looking like a goddamn hot mess
  • and it takes you a moment, but then you lock eyes with him and it’s like a lightbulb has gone off above his head
  • as he moves his way past tables full of chattering students and finally throws himself into the seat across from you
  • “do i even have to ask how you are or -?” you start and jungkook reddens, shaking his bangs out his eyes as pulls out his laptop
  • he asks your name, not catching his breath at all even though he just looks like he ran a marathon
  • “that’s me,,,,,,,,,but - what’s up?”
  • you’re about to take another bite of your food, but jungkook turns his laptop around and you see what is just a ,,,,,,,, almost blank photoshop canvas
  • well it’s not blank, there’s a simple sketch of what looks like a warrior holding a sword - nothing new or interesting, something you see on the posters for those mobile fighting games that are super popular nowadays
  • you stare at them, then up at jungkook’s round dark eyes
  • “they,,,,,,,,they’re cute?”
  • you awkwardly comment, not sure what to really say or what is really going on
  • jungkook sighs, seemingly upset and you suddenly feel really sorry for that and try to look at the sketch again
  • “i,,,,,like their sword?!?” you add, but jungkook still looks like a storm cloud has gathered above his head
  • it’s silent for a moment,,,,,neither of you quite sure what to say - you’re not close enough to banter like friends or strangers enough just to leave
  • until jungkook finally clears his throat and looks over at you
  • “i,,,,,,,,i need help and namjoon said you like art so i was wondering if you could,,,,,help me,,,,,,”
  • you sit back, jungkook suddenly seems more nervous, broad shoulders tensed up as if he thinks you’re about to tell him to buzz off
  • but you just smile, “i can try to help - but you have to tell me,,,,what exactly you need my help with,,,,,you kind of just came running - literally - at me,,,”
  • he brightens up again, the happiness makes little wrinkles appear near his eyes and he nearly jumps up and down in his seat
  • “well,,,,i want to make a game character - this is all i have so far,,,,,it’s a boring sketch and they’re just cute but i want to make them,,,,,,better,,,,,,,,,,”
  • he chews his bottom lip in a manner that makes you think he’s the one that looks pretty cute right now
  • “i just,,,,,don’t know much about fashion ,,,,,, or,,,,,,,details and namjoon said you have an interest in that and that you draw really well and if it’s a bother i can just go-”
  • you eat while listening to jungkook nearly slip and fall over his words, but you nod at the end and agree
  • “ill try to help, im not too familiar with games but im sure we can think of something?”
  • jungkook gets up, a big smile on his face as he tells you he’ll meet you tomorrow in the library to go over some of his ideas
  • but before he turns you call out his name and he stops
  • “zip up your backpack, your laptop is going to fall out.” you giggle and jungkook blushes, half in embarrassment and half in shock
  • “ri-right, thanks!” he grins and does so before nearly running back out of the cafeteria
  • the first time you meet up with jungkook, you see him sitting cross legged on the chair in the library - laptop open and huge headphones on
  • his notepad and pencils are a scattered mess on the table beside him and his bag looks like it’s falling apart at the seams
  • from what you can tell - he’s a little messy, but you also know that he’s ranked in the top 5% of his major
  • with a brain like a calculator and a knack for anything electronic
  • honestly,,,,it’s a little intimidating - what could you have to offer to someone in the computer science department
  • you were just a humble art student trying to live your life,,,
  • you sit down across from him, jungkook is too absorbed in the game he’s playing to even notice you’re there
  • until ten minutes later, you hear him let out a small chuckle - you don’t even have to assume anything you’re pretty sure whatever game he is playing he just won
  • that’s when he finally looks up and you give a little wave
  • which sends a shock through jungkook, who nervously closes his laptop - a loud sound that makes several people turn their heads
  • and stutters out an apology for making you wait
  • “it’s fine, what game where you playing?”
  • jungkook fidgets a bit and barely answers you in an audible voice, “it’s just overwatch,,,,,,,”
  • you grin, you’ve at least heard that name before so you tell him that sounds cool - what character does he like in that game, maybe you two can find inspiration out of that.
  • jungkook seems surprised at your enthusiastic comment
  • actually,,,,he just isn’t used to cute people,,,,,,wanting to hear him ramble about gaming or well,,,,,,,,cute people in general
  • if jimin was here - seeing jungkook lean over to be closer to you as he shows you the characters and gushes about controls - he might have a heart attack (jimin just really wants jungkook to be happy hehe)
  • but you are really interested, hearing jungkook talk more about the aesthetics and his,,,,,quite jumbled,,,,ideas helps you figure out what kind of look he wants his character to go for
  • and you’re a systematic person - so you take notes in careful handwriting and jungkook notices
  • staring at it as you look up and feel your face heat up, “oh sorry - i just like to make notes so i can have like a plan,,,,,,is it weird - sorry if it’s weird,,,,”
  • but jungkook shakes his head, “no no it’s really cool,,,,i tend to be messy with my ideas so,,,”
  • his eyes drop to his stack of tattered notebooks and pens without caps, you follow his gaze and give a little shrug
  • “people are all different, but maybe you should,,,,organize your pens and stuff - you know just for help in the future.”
  • jungkook gives you an almost puppy like look of sadness in his pout, “organizing is hard,,,,,,”
  • you stare at him before bursting into a fit of giggles that makes jungkook confused
  • “it’s not hard, you just need a good system. like,,,,,instead of throwing your pens in your bag put them in a pencil case or in the smaller pockets.”
  • jungkook gives a small groan,,,but acknowledges that you’re right - maybe he’ll invest in a pencil case,,,,he hasn’t had one since middle school
  • and with a laugh, you tell him maybe you have an extra lying around you can bring it next time
  • and jungkook feels his cheeks turn pink as he stutters that you don’t have to,,,,but that he also has class in ten minutes so he has to go
  • you watch him, hurriedly dump all his things into his bag and rush off with a wave and a rushed “bye!”
  • you sit there for a moment, pulling your own sketch pad out and start to plan this character,,,,,,,,,somehow seeing jungkook makes you want to help him but it also makes you want to make sure he actually gets this project done
  • i mean,,,he might be a smart kid - but he really dives into things head first
  • a couple of weeks go by and you and jungkook meet up regularly
  • jungkook wants to go for something ice-warrior inspired so you show him catalogs from runways where models are wearing winter gowns and lots of crystal jewelry
  • he seems so mesmerized by all the different kinds of prints and details that you’re almost charmed by his questions and complete lack of understanding fashion
  • well,,,,,,you are charmed,,,,,it’s hard not to be when he’s sitting beside you
  • shoulder to shoulder and his eyes, wide and a transparently dark, a brown that was deep but married with flakes of lighter hues
  • and a smile,,,,,that seemed to light up the room around you and crinkle his nose just a bit
  • you were reminded of spring bunnies, of the youthful energy that so many other college students seemed to lose but that was so alive in the way jungkook talked and got excited about anything and everything
  • it became almost natural to see him,,,,,,with his hair messy and his backpack busting with books and his laptop all shoved in haphazardly
  • there were days were you two would just sit beside each other and you’d sketch while jungkook would work on his laptop
  • you’d listen to a calming playlist to get yourself into the mood, lots of artists that jungkook recognized
  • and somehow - along the way - you two would sometimes share headphones
  • and then sit and compare drawings and designs
  • namjoon had seen you once, when you were on your way from class to go meetup with jungkook and he asked you how it was going - working with him
  • you shrugged, you said it was fun - you were happy that you could help and namjoon seemed to want to ask something else
  • but refrained and waved before turning to head the opposite way
  • you didn’t expect that you’d get so comfortable so fast around jungkook, to the point where you’d meet up at his dorm
  • and instead of sharing headphones he’d just blast the music in his dorm
  • and you two would sometimes unapologetically try to sing to your favorite verse or challenge who knew more of the lyrics to this one song
  • his roommate, jimin was nothing but ecstatic to see you over - sometimes weirdly so but jungkook would nag at him to stop grinning all the time
  • while jimin would just dance his way out of the dorm, calling someone nmed taehyung with “updates on the jungkook situation”
  • you didn’t know what that meant, and jungkook told you to not worry about it
  • but,,,,,,,it was comfortable as friends for a while till,,,,,,,,something started to shift,,,,,
  • and it had happened when you’d joined jungkook in the computer lab of his majors department
  • he was playing overwatch again and you were watching him, doing a study of the different weapons so you and jungkook could work on his character
  • when he suddenly stopped and motioned for you to switch seats with him
  • “you want me to play?”
  • you asked, carefully putting the headphones on and jungkook gave you an excited nod, something mischievous glinting in his eyes
  • “it’ll be fun and you can get a feel for gaming.” he explained, and you agreed- although you told him you really had no idea what you were doing
  • “ill be here to help.” he smiled once more and you felt something tug inside your heart
  • and when you finally picked a character, you heard the game start and - as expected you were,,,,,,,,,pretty bad
  • at some point, jungkook leaned over and his large hand covered yours on the mouse
  • he scooted closer, completely unaware of the face that he was at the point where he was resting his chin on your shoulder
  • his eyes hyper focused on the screen and as he moved the mouse around, with your hand still under his
  • you could feel his body tense near yours, he really took this seriously when he played and it was showing
  • but the game was the last thing you could even think about,,,,,,,,the only thing on your mind was the proximity of jungkook to you
  • his hand nearly squeezing yours
  • and how,,,,,,,,as much as something like this would make you so totally uncomfortable,,,,,because it was jungkook
  • you were - fine,,,,as a matter a fact you were enjoying it a bit
  • because you’d never really had physical contact with him before, aside from nudging him to move so you could see the screen of his laptop better
  • and when jungkook finally saw the flash of the screen, a ‘victory’ moving by in an array of bright colors
  • he grinned, hand still on yours and turned to you with a proud smile
  • “see, together we did it.”
  • he grinned, but you looked at the mouse and jungkook nearly jumped as he pulled his hand off yours
  • “holy s-,,,i mean,,,im so sorry,,,,i should have asked-”
  • you shake your head,,,,trying to think of the right words to say
  • “it’s fi-fine!! i had fun,,,,,,,”
  • you pause,,,,and jungkook seems to relax and hide his face from you by busying himself with cleaning out the bag near his chair
  • you take of the headphones and ,,,,,, you finally mumble after a bit that you’re going to start sketching the weapon if that’s ok
  • and jungkook nods, saying he’ll see you in a couple of days for the final design to come together
  • to say that you’re nervous in those days leading up is an understatement
  • the worse thing in the world must be ,,,, making friends with someone and then realizing you never hit the breaks and now you kinda sorta really a lot like them
  • which is what happens to you with jungkook
  • as you stare down at your sketch idea for his character,,,,,you swallow the lump in your throat
  • and for the first time you worry about him liking it or finding some sort of mistake,,,,
  • jungkook feels the same way,,,sitting beside jimin in his dorm he keeps groaning to himself and jimin looks over to see jungkook lose his third game in a row
  • “you’re in a slump or is it,,,,,,,” jimin puts down his book and grins “love problems?”
  • jungkook nearly throws his mouse pad at his older roommate, but stops himself with a slump of his shoulders
  • “i think i ,,,,,,,,,, like them-”
  • “of course you like them jungkook, so what’s the problem?”
  • jungkook sits up straighter and clicks on the screen to start the next game,,,,without even saying anything to jimin he thinks to himself
  • the problem is - what if they doesn’t like me?
  • you arrive ten minutes earlier to the library than jungkook and you set out your sketch neatly
  • next to it is your organized pencil case and the spare one you brought to give jungkook
  • you touch your hair, fix your clothes and for some reason you’re all tense about how you look today,,,,
  • but all those worries freeze over when you see jungkook come through the doors, he looks less messy
  • with his hair actually brushed and a new laptop bag slung over his shoulders
  • he sits down and the plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans are gone, instead he’s actually wearing a fitted button down black shirt and you feel like you’re looking at a new person
  • jungkook smiles,,,,a little lopsidedly as he pulls out his laptop
  • “are you,,,,,,,going to a business lunch after this or something?” you try to joke lightheartedly
  • jungkook sort of scratches the back of his neck and shakes his head
  • “i just,,,i don’t know - wanted to clean myself up a little bit.”
  • the shocks you as you look at him and see that his laptop is actually in a laptop case- you think about why today of all days
  • then you shake it off, sliding over the pencil case
  • “i found my spare, you can have it if you’d like!!” you smile,,,,but it feels like you two are in middle school playing show and tell
  • not two college students with painfully obvious crushes on each other
  • jungkook thanks you, fishing all his stray pens out of his new bag and putting them into the case
  • he grins, looking at them then back at you “guess you turned me organized.”
  • you hold back the urge to blush with your own laugh “don’t worry, you’ll thank me.”
  • finally, you both show each other the designs you have - they’re close in style but yours has more detail in the characters sword and jungkook works silently as he digitally sketches them into his computer model
  • “you never told me what their name is,,,,,,,” you say and watch jungkook work
  • he pauses and meets your gaze, “you should name them. they’re mostly your design.”
  • you shake your head “they’re our design,,,,,but this is your project,,,,”
  • it’s silent and then jungkook coughs a little and you hear it - it’s a shortened version of a nickname you have
  • you blink “like,,,,,,,after me?”
  • jungkook keeps working, but nods ever so slowly
  • “it’s cute, but do you really want to name them after me i mean-”
  • he puts down the tablet and closes his laptop, jungkook and you have never really done this before - just look at each other without talking about the project at hand
  • but jungkook’s ears are turning a burning red and he seems to waver but then goes,
  • “i want to name them after you because you’re special to me. in,,,,in a way that,,,,friendship isn’t really enough,,,”
  • his voice seems deeper than usual, more serious and adult and you feel like you’re frozen under his gaze - stunned
  • “i,,,,,,do you like me?”
  • jungkook waits, before looking back down at the table “i do,,,,,,,,and it’s fine if you don’t-”
  • you lean over and put a hand of yours over his that stops him mid sentence
  • “i like you too. and i like the name too,,,,it has a ring to it.”
  • you smile and jungkook finally smiles too
  • the room suddenly dissolves of tension and you and jungkook aren’t tip-toeing around each other anymore
  • once jungkook submits the finished work of the character, you two get up hand in hand and walk out of the library
  • your first date is ice-cream at the grocery store near campus, but it’s perfect for you and jungkook
  • afterwards jimin demands to know if jungkook kissed you
  • and jungkook is too embarrassed to admit you actually kissed him first
  • jimin: “you might be a genius with computers, but you’re no genius in love huh jungkook,,,,,”
  • jungkook: “at least i have a cute s/o jimin.”
  • jimin: K.O.

@loofalover said: i have a prompt: since tyler hoechlin’s gonna be on cbs’s supergirl, how about sterek with superman!derek? thank you!

“Jeez, Derek,” Stiles says, bringing up the front page of the Beacon Hills Herald on his tablet. “Again?”

Derek has the decency to look a little shamefaced. “Stiles, I cover local politics, not…” He waves his hand at the tablet. “That.”

“What? Actual news?”

Derek rolls his eyes at the teasing tone, and Stiles worries for a second that he’s taken it too far.

“Not that the council vote on changing the zoning restrictions on Maple Street isn’t totally exciting,” he adds, wrinkling his nose despite himself.

Derek smiles at him, and sets a cup of juice down on their rickety little kitchen table. “Opening it up to residential? Have you seen some of the loft spaces in the old factories down there? We could move out of here and get somewhere with a decent square footage. How great would that be?”

“That would be awesome.” Stiles tilts his head up for a quick kiss.

Stiles loves Derek to death, but he really is the most boring boyfriend ever.


The sheriff is old school. No tablet for him. When Stiles arrives at his office, his dad is reading an actual newspaper, the pages crinkling as he shakes them out straight.

“Seen this?” John asks, setting the newspaper down and pointing at the front cover.


“Yep,” Stiles tells him. There’s a kind of blurry picture of Superman flying—flying!—right out of the bank with a hostage in his arms. “I also saw the three assholes in the holding cells on my way in. Let me guess, he trussed them up and dumped them right on our doorstep?”

“Show pony,” John mutters.

Stiles laughs. “Dad, come on! He’s a superhero! Don’t go getting all grouchy and jealous!”

John snorts. “I see that Derek missed the scoop again.”

Stiles tries to sound supportive. “Derek covers local politics, Dad. You know that.”

“Oh, you mean the local politics that happen in the town hall right across the road from the bank?” John jabs his finger at the headline. “This Lydia woman beats him every time.”

“Lois,” Stiles corrects, and sips his coffee.


“It’s Lois, not Lydia.”

John frowns. “Who am I thinking of then?”

“The strawberry blonde goddess I was in love with since third grade?” Stiles hazards.

“Oh, right.” John looks a little pensive. “Whatever happened to her?”

“She’s being brilliant and awesome at the University of Metropolis,” Stiles tells him. “And still ignoring me on Facebook.”

“Ah,” John says.

“Anyway. Are we here to talk about Derek’s lackluster career, or mine?”

John folds the paper up. “Well, now that you mention it.”

Stiles tries to be cool about it, he really does, but his dad is wearing a combined Dad-and-Sheriff look that makes Stiles squirm like a guilty three-year-old.

“Three complaints in a month, Stiles,” John says sternly. “That’s more than most of my deputies get in a year!”

“But two of them are from Jackson Whittemore, and you know he’s just being a douche!”

“And the one from Mrs. Masterson?”

“That was an accident!”

“You ran over her letterbox.”

“Only because I was avoiding her cat!”

“Why were you even driving on the sidewalk?”

“Um,” Stiles says, and wracks his brain for an excuse he just doesn’t have. Because “to prove to Reyes that I could” probably isn’t going to work. “Okay, so. It’s kind of a long story.”

His dad sighs, and settles in with a look on his face that says he knows this is going to be total bullshit.


“I got takeout!” Stiles yells that evening, shoving the door open. “But probably our last one for a while since I’m stuck on desk duty for the next month and banned from picking up any overtime, and also I owe Mrs. Masterson two hundred dollars for a new letterbox.”

The salary of a deputy sheriff is not exactly a big one. Stiles kind of relies on picking up a few extra hours here and there.

Derek stands up from where he’s been working on the little desk in the cramped living space of their apartment. He shoves his glasses up his nose. “What sort of letterbox costs two hundred dollars?”

“I know, right?” Stiles grumbles, letting Derek divest him of the takeout bags. “The old woman’s totally scamming me.”

Derek’s smile is soft and fond.

Stiles heads to the bedroom to get changed out of his uniform and into his sweatpants. When he gets back to the kitchen, Derek is setting out two plates and a selection of their mismatched cutlery.

“So,” Stiles says a few minutes later, though a mouthful of kung pao chicken, “did you mean what you said about looking at lofts on Maple? I mean, like, it might be good to have somewhere big enough to have an actual dining table. And invite people over and stuff.”

“It would be good,” Derek says. “And, um, maybe we could look at buying instead of renting?”

Stiles’s jaw drops open. “What?”

Derek’s ears go a little pink. “I mean, we should buy a place together. If you want.”

“That’s, um, that’s…wow.”

“Too big of a step?” Derek looks worried.


But also, no. Of course not. Stiles knew a week into dating Derek Hale that this was the guy he wants to spend his whole life with. This shy, awkward guy who has somehow managed to make it this far through life without even realizing how ridiculously hot he is. This sweet, polite guy from Kansas, who helps their neighbors carry their groceries up the stairs, and fixes their leaking taps for them when the building super has pulled one of his magical disappearing acts. This totally earnest guy who actually likes covering local politics and gets more excited over the announcement of a new children’s playground than he does over the latest headlines about some high-profile crime.

Stiles wants to climb right over the table and kiss the hell out of him. Then he thinks about the mess that would make, and settles for reaching out and taking his hand instead.

“Derek Hale,” he says. “I love you. Let’s buy a place together.”

Derek’s smile is the most beautiful thing in the universe.


Stiles is happy to be finally off desk duty. This is what he signed up for, right here. Driving around the streets at night, poking into dark corners, and basically being a curious, suspicious-minded busybody. It’s the role he was born to play, actually. And it’s not like Beacon Hills is a hotbed of dastardly criminal activity. Especially not with Superman turning up all the time. His dad might not be a fan, but Stiles is. Stiles has even seen Superman a few times. Once, at a traffic accident, he was close enough to even talk to him, except he didn’t because his brain did that thing when he shut down. It was lucky, really. He probably would have said something dumb about how Batman was actually cooler. Anyway, instead he’d watched as Superman bent back a hunk of twisted metal that had formerly been a car, and lifted an unconscious child out of the wreckage. It had been awesome.

It had even made the front page of the paper, since of course Lois and her photographer had turned up to capture the action. Stiles’s left arm made the picture. Luckily his slack-jawed face didn’t. And Derek? Well, Derek had been covering a Rotary meeting. Stiles hadn’t even known Rotary was still a thing.

Derek’s never going to win a Pulitzer, just saying. Which is okay, because it would look kind of out of place on their bookshelf next to Stiles’s video games and collection of action figures.

Stiles turns down Main Street, traveling at a crawl. It’s the middle of the night and the middle of the week. There’s nobody about. At least, there shouldn’t be. Which is why Stiles brakes when he sees the van parked in the alley beside the bank.

It’s a white van with the logo of a cleaning service on the side. A cleaning service Stiles has never heard of.

He grabs his radio. “Hey, Parrish?”

Correct radio procedure is not one of Stiles’s strong points.


It’s not one of Parrish’s either.

“I’m off at the bank. There’s a van here that says Industrial Cleaning Services. I’m gonna check it out.”

“Okay, Stiles. I’ll get Reyes to swing by too.”

“Cool bananas.”

Stiles gets out of the car and walks slowly down the alley toward the van.

Situational awareness is one of Stiles’s strong points. The van door opens as he approaches, and he hears footsteps coming from behind him as well, and he knows that he’s suddenly in a world of fucking trouble. Knowing it doesn’t make a difference though. He doesn’t even have time to reach for his gun before some asshole smacks him over the back of the head and it’s lights out.


When he blinks himself awake, Stiles discovers he’s sitting just outside the entrance to the bank vault. He’s handcuffed to the barred doors between the vault entrance and the basement elevator. There are two men down here with him, and their attention is focused almost solely on the vault doors, and on the plastic explosives they’re jamming into the holes they’ve drilled around it.

Well, that can’t be a good thing.

It takes a little while for one of them to notice him.

“Cop’s awake,” the first guy says.

The second guy approaches him. He’s holding Stiles’s radio. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You tell the other cops to back off, and we don’t shoot you. Got it?”

It’s a simple plan, and one Stiles can get behind.

He waits until the guy presses the button on the radio. “Parrish?”


“I’m in the bank. I’m being held hostage. If anyone tries to come in, they’ll shoot me.”

The guy doesn’t even give Parrish a chance to respond. Just twists the knob on the radio that turns it off.

Stiles slumps back against the bars. This was not how he intended his night to go. He was going to check out Maple Street and imagine he and Derek living there, and then he was going to meet Reyes for a burger at the twenty-four hour diner on Oak, and then he was going to win ten bucks because they have a long-standing bet that he can’t drink a milkshake as big as his head in under thirty seconds. And then he was going to go home to Derek, and snuggle up with him for that one glorious hour between Stiles getting home and Derek having to leave for work. That one glorious naked hour.

Stiles wants an entire lifetime of those.

He watches as the guys do whatever it is they’re doing with their plastic explosives and their wires. Then he watches as they retreat past him, rounding the corner into what Stiles guesses leads to the utility rooms or whatever. Leaving Stiles sitting there, right in the fucking blast zone.

“Hey!” he yells. “Hey, come on!”

Oh shit.

A counter on the explosives starts to beep.

“Hey!” he yells again. “You can’t just fucking leave me here!”

He struggles uselessly against the cuffs, tears streaming down his face, because this is how he dies. Right here, right now, and he’s not going to see his dad again, and he’s not going to see Derek again, and there is absolutely nothing he can do about it. He draws his knees up, tries to curl over and hide his face. His heart is beating fast enough to escape his chest, and this is it. This is how he dies.

There’s a moment of awful, sudden silence as the counter stops beeping.

A moment of stillness.

And then the world rips apart at the seams.


He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.

Except, if he’s dead, where’s his bright tunnel of light? Stiles blinks, but all he can see is dust and smoke. There’s a figure crouched in front of him. Just a formless shape at first, but as the dust settles and Stiles’s vision clears he sees that it’s a man. A man in a blue suit that clings to his stupidly built body. He’s holding his red cape out to the sides like it’s a shield. Or like it’s wings, and he’s a mama bird protecting a fragile little fledgling from harm. Which in this case is the remains of the vault door that were blasted toward Stiles on the wave of the explosion. He has dark hair and beautiful eyes, and a single curl in the middle of his forehead that Stiles just wants to touch.

“H-hey, Superman,” he says. Do not say Batman is cooler. Do not say it.

“Let’s get you out of here, Deputy Stilinski,” Superman says, and if his voice doesn’t melt Stiles, then the way he leans over him and then reaches around to just snap the cuffs does. Stiles is as shaky on his feet as a newborn gazelle when Superman helps him stand.

“I, um,” he says, and then sort of collapses.

Superman sweeps one arm under him, and suddenly he’s in a bridal carry, and omigod it’s Superman!

Superman looks up, and Stiles follows the direction of his gaze. And that’s when he realizes the explosion has brought down the floor above them, and hell, even the roof, and he can see starlight though the dust and the smoke.

“Ready?” Superman asks him with a smile.

Holy shit, yes.

And suddenly they’re flying.


Derek bursts into the hospital room, hip-checking a tray of instruments and sending them scattering all over the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” he exclaims, shoving his glasses up his nose before he gets down on his hands and knees to start cleaning up the mess. Then he springs to his feet again, looking pink and rumpled, and rushes to Stiles’s side.

“Are you okay, Stiles?” His eyes are wide with worry. “Your dad called and said you were in an explosion?”

“I’m okay,” Stiles assures him with a dopey smile. “Superman saved me.”

“Oh, thank God,” Derek says, and squeezes his hand tightly.

“Der, when I get out of here, we’re going looking at lofts on Maple, okay? No more waiting. No more putting it off. I want to buy a place with you, and I want to come home to it every single day.”

Derek’s answering smile is beautiful.


“I just don’t get it,” Stiles says a few months later. “I mean, you hang out with Lois all the time, right?”

Derek considers that for a moment. “Not all the time.”

“But a lot of the time.” Stiles looks up from the catalog he’s been flipping through. They’ve moved in now, and they’re decorating. They are officially at the decorating stage of the relationship. Stiles can only presume the next step is buying a shelter dog together. He’s really looking forward to that part. It’s a lot more exciting than choosing dinner sets. “And Lois always sees Superman. She’s even interviewed him! So how come you’ve never seen him?”

Derek shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not really that interested, to be honest.”

“Okay. So.” Stiles sets the catalog aside. “I know that you’re really into stuff like council policy and grassroots activism and those old people who are rehabilitating the Preserve, but, like purely objectively, Superman is interesting. You’re not allowed to be not interested in Superman. It’s like being not interested in fireworks. Or space travel. Or yetis.”

Derek looks at him oddly. “Yetis?”

“Like, I mean, if a yeti suddenly appeared, that would be interesting, right?”

“I suppose,” Derek says very slowly, like he’s agreeing with a crazy person.

“So there,” Stiles says. “You must be just a little bit interested in Superman.”

Derek slips into his thoughtful expression, and then smiles. “I’m more interested in you.”

“You’re hopeless!” Stiles crows, caught between exasperation and delight, and throws a cushion at him.


Sometimes Stiles dreams he’s flying.

It should be terrifying, but he’s never felt safer.

And then, when he wakes up snuggled close to Derek, it takes a few minutes to shake off the guilt.

It doesn’t matter, right?

Everyone’s got a crush on Superman.


Stiles proposes to Derek on the night of their housewarming, surrounded by their friends and colleagues. It’s not something he planned. In fact, he gives Derek an engagement ring made out of the twist tie off a bread bag. Derek laughs so hard his glasses fog up.

Stiles gets tipsy on cheap champagne, and almost breaks one of the new plates from the dinner set except Derek catches it in time. Who knew he had ninja reflexes? When everyone leaves, Stiles drags Derek out onto the balcony and makes him slow dance with him.

It’s romantic as fuck.

Then Derek goes inside to get him a glass of water, and that’s when Stiles sees it.

A kitten.

A sad, cold, shivering little kitten on the balcony next to theirs.

“Oh, hey, kitty,” he says. The loft next door is empty, so he has no idea how the kitten even got onto the balcony. But it’s stuck there now, and it looks so hungry and sad. Stiles leans out over the railing and reaches out for it.

“Jump!” he tells it. “Jump, and I’ll catch you.”

But clearly the kitten doesn’t speak English.

Stiles is slightly impaired from all the cheap champagne he’s drunk. Like, looking back, the smart thing would have been to go back inside, to go to the other loft, and to break in to get to the kitten. Except that doesn’t even occur to him. What occurs to him is that it’s only a couple of feet, and he can make it.

He totally can.

He climbs over the railing and reaches out.

“Stiles?” Derek calls from inside. “Do you want—Stiles!”

And suddenly Stiles is slipping, and then he’s falling.


Strong arms catch him before he hits the ground.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. He’s going to be sick. “Holy shit.”

Superman is holding him, and they’re rising slowly back up toward the balcony.

“You saved me,” Stiles breathes. “Again.”

“You should watch your step, Deputy,” Superman says.

“Y-yeah,” Stiles agrees.

He has such beautiful eyes. Stiles could lose himself in those eyes.

Superman sets them both down on the balcony again. Stiles glances around for Derek, but he’s not there. He must have raced downstairs when Stiles fell, and–

Stiles’s fingers snag against Superman’s. Something scratches him, and he looks down.

There’s a tiny little twisted piece of plastic-coated wire around Superman’s ring finger.

Holy shit.

Stiles starts to laugh.

“Deputy?” Superman asks.

Stiles smacks him in the chest. “Don’t even, you asshole!”

Superman’s jaw drops.

“Oh, my fucking God.” Stiles bites his lip and then, for good measure, smacks Superman again. It has about the same effect as smacking a solid brick wall. “Do you know how fucking guilty I felt for crushing on you, Derek? You fucking asshole!”


How did he never see it? How the fuck did nobody ever see it? The difference between them is literally a pair of glasses, a weird costume, and a curl of hair. Stiles has seen more convincing makeover shows on daytime television.

“Holy fuck. I’m engaged to Superman!”

Superman—Derek—has the decency to look a little shamefaced. “I can explain.”

“Can you?” Stiles asks. “Can you really?”

“I can possibly explain,” Derek says.

Stiles exhales heavily, and jabs his finger into Derek’s chest. “First, the kitten. Then the explanation.”

Derek steps over to the other balcony as easily as breathing, and returns with the trembling ball of fuzz cupped in his hands.

“I’m engaged to Superman,” Stiles whispers, his disbelieving smile broadening into an impossibly wide grin.


Derek Hale is not the most boring boyfriend ever. Derek Hale is Superman. And Stiles has totally hit that, and intends to keep hitting that for the rest of his natural life. He doesn’t care if Derek talks too much about council meetings and zoning issues and city budgets. They even join the group of old people rehabilitating the Preserve, and turn up every Sunday morning to collect trash and replant native trees. And zoning is interesting. Affordable housing is interesting. These are all things that can change the quality of people’s lives just as much as any superhero can.

They adopt a shelter dog. It becomes best friends with the kitten.

They live a small town life, with small town dreams and small town ambitions.

And some nights, when Stiles isn’t working and Derek isn’t saving innocent lives, Derek takes Stiles by the hand and they fly.

Slow Mornings

requested by @emilykirklandeire : “Could you maybe do a really fluffy seb stan drabble with just lazy cuddles in bed as it snows outside (cause I miss winter already)”

a/n: seb being cute. i mean, he always is but it still deserves a warning. also, does anyone else find the word ‘murmurs’ to be funny or is that just me?

You smile as you rest your head on Sebastian’s shoulder, the tips of his shoulder-length hair tickling the side of your face as you settle so you’re comfortable. Sebastian wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer to him and kissing the top of your forehead and the light scruff on his face makes you wrinkle your nose.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I know we were supposed to go out today.”

You tilt your head up just enough so you can catch his eye and grin. “You can’t control the weather, Seb,” you tell him, shrugging your shoulder in a 'what can you do’ gesture. “Besides, this is really nice. I love your dedication to your career but it does mean we don’t get to do this all that often.”

Sebastian laughs and the vibrations it causes makes you laugh with him. “This?”

“Yeah, this. Laying in bed together, letting the TV play as background noise, cuddling… just-”

“We’re both here in person, not on screen,” Sebastian finishes, pulling the thick wool blanket up more and tucking both of you in. It isn’t cold in your room, not with the heat cranked up almost all the way and the mess of pillows and quilts on the bed but you know Sebastian does it more out of habit than anything.

“Exactly,” you nod, “and dates aren’t always meant to be extravagant nights out, you know? Sometimes it’s just enjoying each other’s company.”

“How quaint,” Sebastian says, but he’s smiling in that special way of his, with the corners of his eyes crinkling and his teeth showing.

“And,” you begin meaningfully, “if you really feel bad about our date being cancelled due to the weather I’m sure you could make it up to me by making some hot chocolate? With whipped cream and cinnamon?”

“Sending me off to work on my first day back,” Sebastian playfully shakes his head, “that’s fine but I’m afraid that if I have to do that, you’ll be the one making the pizza.”

“I change my mind, you do that and I’ll make the hot chocolate.”

“Thought so,” Sebastian says before leaning over and kissing the tip of your nose. “Ten more minutes, though?”

“Of course,” you say, snuggling more into his side before closing your eyes. Ten more minutes of this is more than fine.

Beyond the Pale

Request: a story where Taehyung and Y/n are orphans from different families and end up falling in love, then getting adopted by the same man, so they end up living as bother and sister.

A/n: Okay so I thought it would be difficult to write this, but surprisingly it came out so naturally. I’m not familiar with how the child systems work so please excuse any mistakes. I’m sorry it’s taken so long to get out, but I hope you all enjoy ~ Kaitlin 

Genre: Angst | Fluff
Members: Taehyung x Reader
Word Count: 3224

Masterlist | Next ↦

“Legally, you and Taehyung were brother and sister. Even though there was no blood relation, you were considered kin, and you weren’t supposed to love your family like this.” 

Originally posted by kookie-monstah

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hello! I really LOVE your writing so um, can I ask for Plance in the height difference au? The numer 8?

thank you so much! height difference AUs work so well for this pair (TOL AND SMOL *cries*), thanks for requesting one! :)

#8 was: “You’re afraid that you’ll lose me in big crowds so you always hold my hand but now you just hold my hand when there’s only, like, five people around and I’m getting very suspicious”

set in the canon universe this time, because why not ;) 

It starts on Mustrorth.

Another planet freed, another group to draw into their alliance, another rally to attend.  Pidge has gotten used to the routine by now: smile, nod, shake hands.  On occasion, people bring her trinkets—word has spread about the Green Paladin’s affinity for alien tech and strange objects.  Those meetings are always her favorite, since she gets to return to the castleship with an assortment of gadgets and gizmos to figure out.

And it’s not that the Mustrorthrians are boring, exactly.  They’re an enthusiastic bunch, with fancy, curling antlers and large, kind eyes.  But as a group of them huddles closer to her, Pidge is made suddenly aware of how small she is in comparison.  And the fact that she’s been separated from her team.

“Pidge!” someone shouts.  “Pidge, where are you?”

“I’m over here!” she yells, helmet cradled under an arm.

Lance wriggles his way between two Musthrorthrians, letting out a breath when he sees her.  “Oh, good.  Come on, Allura needs us back at the castle.”

He holds a hand out, and Pidge doesn’t think twice about taking it, nodding her goodbyes as he pulls her through the crowd.  Lance cuts through everyone like they’re water: Excuse me, paladins coming through, and soon they’ve emerged from the worst of it.  Pidge blinks. She’d almost forgotten what the sky looked like when it wasn’t blotted out by a series of giant heads.  

“Jeez, it was like a forest in there,” says Lance, squeezing her hand.  “You okay?”

“Yeah, thanks for coming to find me,” Pidge says, slipping her hand from his grip.

Lance grins.  “‘Course.  I’m like a shark, I can sniff out anything.”

Pidge wrinkles her nose. “Weird and inaccurate, but okay.”

Laughing, Lance starts ahead of her.  “Come on, let’s not keep Princess Allura waiting.”  

Keep reading

hamelin-born  asked:

May I please request darkcreature!gramander fluff? With the two of them as dark creatures, but still so very much happy and in love with one another?

[a/n] @hamelin-born of course! I’d be happy to! Sorry this sat in my inbox so long. It was super fun to write though (I admit, fluff is not my strong suit. I’m not super practiced at it… but I hope this suffices!). Besides, it’s about time I give the boys some comfort and fluff. Maybe I should make it a thing. 1 fluff for every 5 fics of pain. XD Hope you enjoy!

Originally posted by dannywitwers

There were many sides of Graves that Newt loved. He loved the director that could back him into a corner, all long lines and powerful edges, and simply devour him with hot breath and even hotter lips. He loved the man that woke up earlier despite going to bed late, just to help Newt with his chores around the enclosures of his case. He loved the friend that made sure to walk Queenie home after an unexpectedly late night at the office. He loved the sympathetic human being that decided to turn a blind eye to a certain kind no-maj and his bakery when he realized just where those creature-inspired pastries Newt loved so much were coming from. He loved the way he doted on the Niffler when he thought Newt wasn’t looking, or how he seemed particularly in awe of the powerful grace of the Nundu despite their dangerous (and very illegal) presence.

He loved him when he had Newt in his arms, his lips at his shoulder whispering kind words into his freckled skin. He loved him when he woke up trembling and he loved him when he lost himself beneath Newt’s touch and he loved him when he tried to hide the fact that he used reading glasses because he thought it made him old.

There were many sides of Graves that Newt loved. But this one… Graves curled up on the couch – hair mussed and sleepy eyed and clad in an old and battered Ilvermorny sweater – dozing sweetly with the faintest snore… This was one of his favorites.

Newt came to stand beside the couch and delicately set the bowl of oil he had been carrying down on the side table before leaning down to gently check Graves’ temperature by pressing his forehead up against the other man’s brow. Warm, still feverish from the change. Newt nodded, expecting no less, before gently taking the paperwork from Graves’ slack grip and gently setting it aside as well.

“M’not done with that,” Graves mumbled, one eye cracked open to watch Newt with a frown – but he made no move to stop him. Newt smiled.

“It’ll still be here for you later,” he said simply, before turning back to the director and gently brushing a sweaty lock of hair from his brow. Even narrow as they were, he could still see amber peeking out inside the dark depths of Graves’ brown eyes. “How are we feeling?”

“Told you m’fine,” Graves groused even as he sunk a little more into the baggy comfort of his sweater, his jaw tipping instinctively into the callused curve of Newt’s hand as he brought it down to cup his face. “I need to get used to this.”

Newt sighed, amused and a little impatient.

“You can’t just will this away, Percival,” he said as he took one of Graves’ trembling hands into his own and willed heat into his fingers – easing the tremor from the director’s bones. “What you really need to get used to is taking care of yourself.”

Graves scowled even as a deep, contented purr blossomed in his chest from Newt’s administrations.

“I don’t have time to take off after every full moon, Newt,” he said.

“One day a month wouldn’t kill you,” Newt pressed as he eased his thumbs into the aching flesh between the tendons of Graves’ hand and moved up to start rubbing away the ache in the man’s wrist – slightly swollen from the transformation earlier that morning. “If you don’t listen to your body, it’ll make you listen. The last thing you or your team needs is their director passing out in the middle of MACUSA because you pushed yourself too hard.”

Graves looked away at that, more awake now than he had been – a cute little wrinkle between his brows from frowning. Newt apologetically kissed his hand at the sight of his troubled look. Graves wasn’t used to having to take it easy. Before Grindelwald, his power had been uncontested. His body had been strong, his magic even stronger. According to Tina, the man never got sick. His work had been his life. Sometimes he even slept in his office. He had never needed to slow down before. To rest.

And like many things, Grindelwald robbed him of that too.

Newt hadn’t believed it at first. He had never heard of a man becoming a werewolf without having been bitten by one. But sure enough, when they found Graves he was half mad from starvation and captivity and the pain of his oncoming transformation. And there hadn’t even been so much as a scar to suggest the man had ever been bitten. Graves had tried to warn them, though. He howled at them to close the door – to leave. The aurors just thought him crazed and panicked. They didn’t listen. They advanced on him with soothing whispers and eager hands, and all the while Newt couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong as he watched Graves press himself as far into the corner as he could – small and terribly thin and trembling. Eyes on the window. Afraid.

Afraid of himself.

They thought he was afraid of Grindelwald returning. Newt didn’t notice that it was the rising moon the man was watching until it was too late. Thankfully, Graves couldn’t remember anything after the transformation. Newt was grateful for that every day.

“Newt?” Graves asked, breaking the magizoologist from his thoughts. “Are you alright?”

Newt blinked, pinned beneath the worried warmth of Graves’ gaze – still glowing ever so faintly from his night as a wolf. And when Newt didn’t answer right away, Graves gently pulled his hand away and for the first time, Newt saw the man nervously avert his eyes.

“You don’t have to keep doing this. I know you’re busy,” Graves said softly, and Newt flinched when he finally recognized the man’s body language for what it was – shame. “I can take care of myself.”

Newt wasn’t sure what the man was expecting. But it obviously wasn’t the scoffing snort Newt let out at the man’s statement. Graves whirled to look at him with wide eyes as Newt took advantage of his shock to grab at the waistline of the man’s pants and ease them down his long legs, past his swollen and aching knees, until finally they were off the man altogether.

“If that were true, these,” Newt said, hot hands on the director’s knee caps, “Wouldn’t be so swollen. And I wouldn’t have had to argue with you to get you to stay home for once in your life.”

Graves scowled and opened his mouth to argue, but Newt quickly lifted himself up to silence the man with a chaste kiss before leaning back – smiling.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” he said, eyes crinkled at the edges as he made sure to remember every line that made up the soft, shocked expression on Graves’ normally controlled and stoic face. “That doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.”

Without another word, Newt dipped his hands into the minty oil he had brought for Graves and shuffled down to kneel by the man’s legs. Gently, he eased them straight – lips soft and apologetic against the man’s shin when the cartilage in his knee popped angrily. Newt didn’t miss the way the director flinched or how he was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning.

“Ssh,” he said, eyes looking up the long line of Graves’ body to meet his feverish gaze. “I’ve got you.”

He willed the skin of his hands hotter as pressed his thumbs around the swollen edges of Graves’ right knee. He knew what it must feel like. Minty coolness and warm flesh and delicious pressure as he rubbed away knots and untangled the muscles that had been aggravated from the change. He rubbed until Graves’ bitten off groans turned into soft little huffs of pleasure beneath his breath. He kneaded the flesh, working his palms from the back of the man’s knee down into the meat of his calve, until Graves’ body had sunken into the couch – head back. He moved to the other leg once the man’s eyes slipped closed, Graves’ hands trembling for a completely different reason.

And all the while, Newt smiled. He drank in the sight of this Graves; the normally fierce and powerful director turned puddle on the couch. The strong lines of his face soft with pleasure and his body slack beneath Newt’s touch. Messy hair and inelegant clothing and glistening skin. He cherished every second of easing the baggy, battered sweater up the hard planes of the man’s stomach. He kissed and worshiped every inch of pale skin the journey exposed and loved the way Graves grumbled sleepily as Newt guided the overgrown sweater over the man’s head. He memorized the feel of the man’s firm body beneath his hands as he rubbed away the weariness of the werewolf’s shoulders and the tautness in his back. He didn’t stop until Graves was well and truly lost to the world, half asleep and blissed out from the magizoologist’s attentions.

And when Newt was finally content with the quality of his work, he simply eased Graves’ upper body up so that he could slide his lap beneath the man and join him on the couch. Newt smiled as long, powerful arms threaded themselves around his waist so that Graves might press his nose into the redhead’s stomach – his ribs rumbling heavily against Newt’s thigh beneath the weight of his contented purrs. Yes. This was one of his favorite sides of Percival Graves; the side he never showed the world.

“What an odd pair we must make,” Graves mumbled sleepily into Newt’s belly. “A werewolf in the lap of a dragon.”

Newt smiled down at him and brushed the director’s dark hair back from his brow even as he willed his body hotter, eager to soothe Graves’ aches.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘perfect’.”

T-Shirt Weather [J-Hope]

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 1345
Description: In which Hoseok and you love the same bad puns and it somehow leads you somewhere.

Author’s Note: My love for Hobie has been growing so much somebody help me. REALLY SHORT just because I had to write something for him!

The first time you meet Jung Hoseok, he’s in line waiting for pizza, chatting with his friends, when he suddenly looks at you, and bursts into a high-pitched cackle whilst pointing at your chest. His friends look over apologetically, and you shrug off the odd behaviour.

You think, later that night when changing into your pajamas, his laughter may have had something to do with the bold print on your shirt, which read: CROAKA-COLA’S MY FAVORITE DRINK and had an ugly cartoon frog at the side. But you don’t dwell on it, and he’s soon pushed into the back of your mind, nearly forgotten, but not quite yet.

It turns out forgetting him will be a harder task than you’d thought it would be.

Keep reading

Nobody (Part 11)

Originally posted by hospitalheaven

Plot:  Reader has been held prisoner by Hydra and is discovered by Nat and Bucky.  Post CA:CW (Bucky’s on the team, no one hates each other) Slight AU

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of torture

Words: 2778

A/N: Not too happy with this part.  It sounded better in my head. I feel like I’m losing my mojo.  Sorry it’s shit.

Reader’s POV

Thrum. Thrum.  Thrum.  Your pulse crashed against your ears dulling all outside noises.  Bucky, Steve, and Tony—another name…Tony Tony Tony—were arguing over your bed but they may as well have been shouting under water for all you could understand.  “You don’t die.”  That couldn’t be right.  That couldn’t be true.  This isn’t real.  It’s impossible.  Everybody dies.

Keep reading

The One Where Jack Collects Cats

Happy (Belated) Birthday @50-points-for-ravenclaw!!! This is pretty silly but well, I obviously can’t write anything else. 

“Hey honey.”

Jack can’t help but smile at the sound of Bitty’s voice and the sight of his smiling face, even though his heart aches to reach through the computer screen and touch him. This is enough though, for now, and he can just imagine the feel of flushed skin beneath his palms, soft hair and lithe muscles.

“Hey, how was your day?”

“Oh,” Bitty sighs, and Jack can see the heaviness to his eyes that means he needs sleep. It’s midterms, and if Jack wasn’t so selfish, he’d insist that Bitty get some rest or study instead of spending an hour talking to him. But god, he needs this. “It was long, you know, we had practice this morning - Ransom seems to have decided that good captains force us to practice at ungodly hours of the morning.” Jack smirks in the face of Bitty’s glare, pleased when his skin starts to light up a bit. “And then, oh lord, I can’t believe I forgot about this! Nursey was singing to Dex in the showers, I wasn’t really paying attention to be quite honest, and then Chowder starting yelling and came running out of there, the poor child’s face was so red, he couldn’t even string a sentence together, but when me and Holster ran back there everything seemed to be normal. Dex was bright red, but well now, that one is always blushing about something, and Nursey was just doing his usual thing. I don’t know what’s going on with those boys but I am really starting to get sick of this tension.”

“Dex has a crush on Nurse,” Jack says, freezing when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Uh oh. Act natural Zimmermann.

Keep reading

suzurei  asked:

Hello, hello! I couldn't resist my curiosity in how you would do : omegaverse, mafia, ghost au!!! ♥ ♡ ❤

I’m not entirely familiar with omegaverse, but I think I’ve got the gist of it? ^^;; I also couldn’t resist making it prohibition era mafia, because I love the Roarin’ Twenties. Hope you like it, love! ♥

It’s a funny thing, death. 

After tens of thousands of times—feeling the jolt of a fired pistol, watching the splatter of blood on clothes, walls, and grimy concrete—one would think Viktor was used to it. 

Yet, somehow, it’s different when it’s agonizingly slow, when he can feel the warmth seep away with every touch of his fingers. When it’s someone he loves with all his dirty, blood-stained soul.

“Please, my darling.” Viktor remembers falling to his knees, his hands shaking, tangling, in dark strands, his lips pressing into soft skin over and over. Hating the way it grows colder with each passing second, the way something hot and thick sears through his coat, his vest, his heart. “Please, don’t leave me…”

I love you.

Yuuri’s last words. Whispered in Viktor’s ear with the last of his strength before he gave in, allowed death to swoop in and claim him. Steal him away from Viktor, like Hades had done with sweet, sweet Persephone. 

Something snapped inside Viktor then. His last shred of humanity, gone with his beloved. Filling instead with the fires of rage and pure, unadulterated hatred. 

That night, five speakeasies were gunned down in cold blood.

That night, the Nikiforov family declared war on the Leroy family.

Six months later, Otabek interrupts a family meeting to throw in a young upstart, flailing and hissing like a wildcat. 

Viktor doesn’t think much of the boy at first. An orphan skulking about their headquarters, hoping for a fresh new start in a world that has shown him nothing but loneliness and abuse – such stories are a dime a dozen. Not everyone has the fearlessness, the ruthlessness, the natural-born talent for violence and murder. 

Until, that is, he hears the boy’s name.

The room falls silent as Viktor rises slowly from his seat. “What is your name again,” he asks, voice low and thick around the lump in his throat.

“Yuri,” the boy spits out, eyes narrowing. “What’s it to you, old man?”

Keep reading

Infatuation (pt9)

Originally posted by qt-taehyungssi

“His gentle laugh filled the air around us, and he gave me a tight squeeze, using his free arm to ruffle his hair. Looking up at him was a blessing if I was being completely honest. Even in this terrible lighting, his tan skin glowed and his eyes twinkled like tiny stars. I relished the feeling of his arm wrapped snuggly around me, and I reached my arms around to hug his waist. I didn’t care what it looked like, Taehyung was my friend, and if I wanted to hug him then I would.”

Genre: Fluff | Angst
Members: Taehyung x Reader, Jimin x Reader
Word count: 4063

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Keep reading


one shit

pairing ;; Mark lee x reader
genre ;; fluffy af

i feel sick and i wanted some cute shit so i made some cute shit enjoy ( the texts ah i love sm )

You slid into the leathery seated booth of some random cafe without a single care in the world. Sliding all the way towards the window you began to gaze out the frosty cool glass and out into the street. The small cobblestone path was flooded with people walking about, snow that had just began to melt already freezing back over causing the tops of the mismatched piles to be icy and rigid. This was the coldest day of the winter, awkwardly place towards the end in between to slightly warmer days, the temperatures had dropped a bit and now everyone was just trying to stay warm.
This included you, and of course the body who had soon slid in next to you, his firm grip on your hand, body warm against your shoulder.
“y/n what do you want to drink?”

You quickly turned your attention to him. He had short brown hair, which was delicately tucked underneath a burgundy beanie, his eyes partially shielded by deep brown round rimmed glasses. He wore a light brown coat that fit neatly on his shoulders, just barely showing the white collar of his semi sheer white button, the outfit completed with a blue sweater vest and dark wash jeans. He was a real sight to see now wasn’t he, his normally sun kissed skin was a few shades paler due to the lack of sunny days, the smile that laced his faint pink lips caused his dimpled to poke through and his droopy almond eyes to crinkle a bit.

He glanced up at you from the menu of beverages and pastries. “oh! Just grab me a hot chocolate and something sweet”
You returned his warm smile as he gave your hand one quick squeeze before standing and walking off to order at the counter.
You often asked yourself ‘wow what did i do to deserve him’ Mark and you had been together for more than a few months now, and you really felt a connection with him, it made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside when he was around–

“im back!~~” his voice was a sweet coo, he slid in placing a cup with a matte black lid on it in front of you. You hummed in response, placing your hands around the warm styrofoam cup, eyes peeking towards Mark whom was blowing on his one steaming cup of tea.
He managed to catch your gaze for a moment, an amused smirk falling on his lips as your eyes darted away and you brought the cup to your lips, cheeks slightly red. You didn’t know why him simply seeing you admire him made you blush so much, but something about his dimple graced smirk and the way his eyes looked when he glanced at you, and how his nose wrinkled up was so adorable yet incredibly alluring to you.

“you have some marshmallow on your lip” his words were even and cutely stated. With ease he placed his thumb and forefinger on your chin, gently pulling your face towards his and in one fluid motion he swiped the sticky chocolate liquid from your upper lip. He took his finger between his lips with a sly smirk, the smack ringing in your ears as his index finger left his mouth. The light blush on your cheek intensified at this sight, only making him grow more smug as he leaned forward to press his lips to your cheek.
“i love you y/n”
“i love you t- aHHH HEY”
He suddenly put his spit dribbled finger into your ear- a wet willy… You bat his hand away, crossing your arms as you sunk into the booth.

“you were being cute and you ruined it”
He chuckled at your frustration, scooting in closer to press his lips to your cheek again, then your forehead, and nose, and everywhere else on your face. A grunt left your throat as you sat up, “Stopppp Markkkkk”
Your voice was whiny and child like, hands resting against his shoulders.

“Do you not like my kisses?”
“i love them but we are in public kiss me later”
“but i want everyone to know how much i love your face”
“i- mmmmmmm fine”
He chuckled, planting a big kiss to your lips, hands falling into yours. You smiles warmly at him, it was fun just to enjoy each-others presence… even though he was incredibly embarrassing half the time…

Once you both had finished your drinks you headed out into the snow to enjoy the rest of the day together. It wasn’t often you got to enjoy days like this, but this was indeed a lovely one.

You Make Me a Wildfire - Quakerider One-shot

Words: 2,820

Request #1: Robbie gets jealous, and Daisy calms him down

A little Angst, a little Fluff, with a dash of slight Saucy

Read on Ao3: Here

When you’re a superhero, your date nights never consisted of having dinner and catching a movie. There were no moonlit walks or romantic serenades. Nope. Date nights were following shady activities and beating up any bad guys along the way.

Robbie should have known better when Daisy showed up on his doorsteps that night wearing a sexy outfit and enough makeup to be a fashion model.

“It’ll be fun,” she had said with a devilish grin. It didn’t take long for Robbie to agree when she was giving him big brown puppy-dog eyes.

Now, the two of them were sitting in his Charger outside one of L.A.’s well-known biker bars, Hell’s Bells. Motorcycles lined the entrance, along with a few huge, leather-clad guys drinking and smoking the night away. Loud rock music like a screaming banshee blared from the doorway every time someone went in or left.

Robbie bristled. He loved hanging out at dive bars whenever he had the chance, but even he could recognize this place was a dump and oozed in trouble.

“Daisy, what’re we doing here?”

Keep reading

The Forgotten Girl and the Invisible Servant

Summary: When a curse sends shockwaves through the fairy tale world, a young woman renowned for being the ‘Girl Fairy Tales Forgot’ and a humble Valet with a terrible secret find respite in each other- if only for a moment- under the moonlit sky.

Paige was restless.

The safety of the inn seemed null and void in light of everything that had happened. Walls which were once comforting, a blockade from the world and its impression of her, now served as a stark reminder of how things had changed beyond them. The bed that was once hers was now shared with a princess, at least until they left or another room became available.

It seemed like the one place she had left to call her own was once again taken over by royalty, by magic and by a burgeoning sense of loss.

Not that she begrudged Princess Skye for that, it wasn’t her fault they were stuck in this mess. No. The blame laid entirely on Paige and that awful excuse of a Fairy Godmother.

Still, in all the years that had passed, none of her now-royal friends had ever visited the inn where she lived; not Cinderella, not Bella, not even Rose and her castle was a mere half a day’s walk. Perhaps the universe was making up for the fact, given that Red’s humble inn was now inundated with the Princess of the Holy Roman Kingdom and her fiancée, Prince Leonardo of the Southern Kingdom, and-


Paige tossed in bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying very hard not to think of the way the Prince’s valet stared at her.

She failed, miserably, and buried her face into her pillow in frustration at the fact.


For the life of her, she couldn’t understand what she’d done wrong. She’d misjudged him when they first met, of course, but she’d apologised and really, with everything going so horribly wrong, she’d thought he’d sympathise with her a little- give her the benefit of the doubt and forgive her for the misunderstanding. Perhaps she was mistaken?

Yet he didn’t seem to stare at her the same way everyone else did. He didn’t look at her as though she were a social climber, or the Forgotten Girl, or with any kind of preconceived notions really. He just looked. That was the most disconcerting thing of all.

A part of her wanted to confront him on the matter, but confrontation had backfired on her twice recently and in the worst of ways. So maybe it might do to hold her tongue. For once.

He seemed kind so maybe, if she was nice to him, he’d stop staring at her and instead start seeing her? Though they’d just met, the idea of yet another person thinking she was scum tore at her insides. It was desperate, pathetic, and Paige was more than a little angry at herself for putting so much stock in a stranger’s opinion of her.

But she was tired- she was so tired- of people hating her before knowing her. She was tired of being judged based on the actions of others, what happened to the people around her, tired of being compared and always being found wanting.

Once, just once, she wanted someone to see her for who she was.

Once upon a time, she’d had a whole host of friends, a family, people who loved her for who she was.

Those people were gone now, and she had no idea how to get them back (if she could get them back).

She had Kai, and Red, but her world was much smaller now and a lot lonelier.

Sitting up in bed, Paige rubbed her tired eyes and cast a glance over at the princess. Were it not for the fact that she could hear her faint sleep-filled breaths, Paige might have thought Skye was pretending to be asleep. She looked so small, so still and fragile in the light of the moon. Like a dormouse hibernating for the winter.

Or rather, a dragon disguised as a dormouse, judging by the downright awe-inspiring skills she’d displayed earlier that morning.

Kai snoozed at the end of the bed, black fur turned silver and cast in half shadows from the moonlight. His ears twitched as Paige slid from the bed, but he moved no more than that. Not even as Paige put on her slippers, tiptoeing to the chair where she’d hastily discarded her coat, and left the room. Lazy cat.

It wasn’t the coldest of nights, but there was a decisive chill in the air. Beneath her feet, the grass was dew-stricken and the trees which framed the inn whispered secrets to the soft wind which blew around her. A few paces away, the forest called, dark and deep, mysterious and comforting. For a while Paige debated with herself, knowing it was never a good idea to set foot in the woods alone at night (Red would kill her if she found out). Still, she thought, it might be nice to get away. Just for a moment. Just to breathe.

Before she could even begin to set foot amongst the oak trees, to feel the twigs breaking underfoot or hear the night birds singing, a voice called out to her through the darkness.

“Awfully late for a walk in the woods.”

Paige was quite certain that she woke the entire inn with her shriek, but was also sure that nobody would come to her aid, for the sound she let out was more akin to a fox in heat than a young woman in distress. So she did what she usually did when confronted with a threat.

Punched it.

“Woah there! I’m sorry! It’s umm…me,” the shadowed figure ducked out of the way of her fist with a practiced ease, and then proceeded to step several paces away, arms up in a show of pacifism.

Squinting at the figure, Paige dropped her fists, her eyes widening when she realised who it was- who she’d almost hit.


Keep reading

Today's Endless Skies

An AU where you can use ANY point in canon as a jumping off point! Pre and post canon are always popular choices. How would Klaus have reacted to human!Caroline? Or, since our endgame IS coming, how do you see it going down.

For @lalainajanes as a thank you for the body swap. Weirdly this went fluffy instead of smutty, but this will have to do! Hope you enjoy!

Chicago was cooler than she’d thought it’d be. Pinning a napkin between her knees, Caroline took her first taste of the hot dog she’d bought off a vendor and hummed in approval. She’d been disappointed my deep dish pizza, but this was delicious. The tiny park she’d found in her search for lunch was a lovely break from the press of tourists on the busier streets, and she took another careful bite. The wind wasn’t what she’d expected, and the spring gusts threatened to dislodge bits of relish and the napkin.

The last two days had been a much needed change from the chaos of Whitemore, the crazy from the whole Augustine mess. Maybe later she’d feel guilty about the text messages she’d been ignoring, the tiny bit of compulsion that had gotten her a decent hotel room at the last minute during the busy Spring Break season. Another itty bitty compulsion had gotten her an eager concierge who set about getting her tickets to the local museums and aquarium, and those were stuffed into her backpack.  She had a list of places she wanted to see. Food she wanted to try. Pictures she wanted to take, before she had to go back to the grind of her education and friend’s expectations.

Adjusting the tinfoil, she’d just stuffed another bite into her mouth when a familiar voice cut into her thoughts. “Care to slide over, love?”

She nearly choked, and gropped for the water bottle beneath the bench with watering eyes. When she finally composed herself, Klaus had pressed his lips together in a clear sign of hiding a smile, and she glared at him. “What are you doing here?”

A faint smile ghosted across his lips the, and his gaze lowered to the bench she’d deliberately taken up too much space on. Caroline debated popping that knowing bubble and saying no, but her curiosity would drive her insane. So she juggled her backpack and lunch to make enough room for him to sit. It didn’t surprise that he chose to sit as close as possible, the heat of his thigh brushing hers as he settled. It did surprised her when he unwrapped his own hotdog, seemingly perfectly at ease.

Not a look she’d have associated with Klaus, but one that was weirdly appealing.

“Seriously though,” she jabbed him with lightly with an elbow, not fighting the flicker at satisfaction as she jostled his food. “This is Chicago.”

A sardonic glance from beneath his lashes. “I’m aware, Caroline.”

She set her teeth as he took a of bite his hotdog, her nose wrinkling instinctively at the sight of jalapenos. Gross. “No, seriously, this had better be a case of really weird serendipity, because if you followed me here I’m going to get mean.”

The gleam of laughter in his gaze almost hid the faint shadows under his eyes, and she wondered long he had to go without sleep to look tired. She’d heard a few rumors from Stefan about the awfulness that had gone down in New Orleans, had maybe followed started following New Orleans PD twitter account out of pure curiosity. Finding Klaus here instead of tangled in whatever supernatural shenanigans were still occurring was kind of huge shock.

Klaus didn’t seem bothered by her staring, and she pretended not to watch as his tongue snaked out across his lips. One brow arched as he tipped his head in her direction, unphased by her scrutiny. “I assure you, I was just as surprised to see you wandering the streets of Chicago as I imagine you were to see me.”

She weighed his words, decided she’d believe him. Elena had only texted her once or twice, and Caroline had already told Bonnie that she needed a few days of space. There was no reason for her friends to have been worried about her, and none of them would have clued Klaus in to her plans. “Okay, then why are you here?”

“Business,” Klaus said.

Caroline paused in mid bite, eyes narrowed. “Do I want to know?”

He smiled, dimples cutting deep. “Nothing of real import, love. You shouldn’t be bothered on your vacation.”

She nodded, and they ate in silence for the next few moments as Caroline tried not to let the heat of him distract her. It was strangely comfortable sitting on a park bench and eating lunch with Klaus. It was so different than any of her other encounters with him, and the ease of it was slightly alarming. Caroline had always assumed that the next time she’d see Klaus would be a little awkward. Men tended to look at you differently once they’d seen you naked, and she’d somehow doubted that a thousand years of living would curb that.

The way that Klaus unabashedly watched her eat did hold little flickers of that scalding possessiveness she’d grown somewhat accustomed to seeing, but there was no expectation in his eyes. Instead, posture was as relaxed as she’d ever seen him, even though she knew he was tracking and cataloging every possible threat around him. It was likely that talking with Klaus on neutral territory would be a strain on her self control, but she found she didn’t want him to leave.

It was… nice.

“Why Chicago?” he murmured once she’d balled up the foil, water bottle crinkling in her hand as she finished it off. She looked at him in question and he glanced around before his gaze returned to her, nothing but curiosity on his face. “I’d have thought New York or L.A. would be more to your tastes.”

“Thought about it,” she said slowly, leaning back against the bench to enjoy the sunshine, ignoring that the move pushed her leg that much closer to his. “Seemed a bit predictable.”

Klaus mimicked her position, one booted foot crossing across the other. “Oh?”

Caroline considered how much she wanted to tell him, weighing her options. She knew it unlikely that Klaus would judge her, would even likely be a decent sounding board for the discontent she found herself wrestling with. Too good of one, really. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that kind of honesty, not yet.

Tipping her head back, she sighed and watched a small child chase a balloon. “I just needed a break.”

Klaus was silent for several moments, clearly considering how best to respond to that statement. Finally he nodded, fingers laced across the flatness of his abdomen. “I can’t say that I blame you, love. Your friends are exactly what I’d consider restful.”

She rolled her eyes. “Really?”

He ignored the bite in her tone. “Tell me, what does Caroline Forbes do when she decides to spread her wings?”

Caroline shrugged, a small amused smile curling her lips. “Oh you know, the normal touristy things. Museums. Food. Getting lost on the loop. Maybe the Aquarium.”

“Sounds delightful,” he drawled.

She snorted, knowing full well that the Aquarium would be a nightmare for Klaus. So many people, the screaming children a constant clatter with his ears. Still, it wouldn’t do any good to let him think that she actually cared. “Why? Interested in seeing some dolphins do tricks?”

“Hardly,” Klaus said disdainfully. His head angled in her direction, eyes gone dark and tempting, tongue sliding across his bottom lip. “However, if you’d be interested in a few of the more… lesser known sights, I’d be happy to show you.”

She held herself still, refusing to show the shiver that threatened to roll down her spine at the rumble in his words. There was a wealth of invitations in his eyes, and she shouldn’t feel so breathless at just a few words. Refusing to let herself be dragged into the memories of the last time he’d been so closer, she cleared her throat. Particularly when she was pretty sure she might have a chance to reenact them, if she wanted too.

“I’ve got pretty high standards about touristy things, Klaus,” Caroline returned playfully, both brows arching. “Is this business of yours going to interrupt?”

He waved a hand, gaze dipping to trace the lines of her smile with his eyes. “I’m all yours.”

It was a loaded statement, and she refused to look beneath the surface, for the hints of gravel in his voice. Scraping her teeth over her lip, she poked the solid muscle of his bicep. “I get to change my mind if you’re boring.”

He caught her hand, flattened her palm against the hot muscle, his smile a wicked tease. “Not an accusation that I’ve had laid at my feet before, but I suppose there is a first time for everything. Feel free to offer suggestions.”

Looking heavenward for patience at the casual arrogance in his words, she still let him pull her to her feet. They discarded their trash, headed for the intersection they’d approved earlier. Klaus didn’t do anything like reach for her hand, but there was no doubt from the closeness of his body language they he was with her and it was another revelation that she didn’t mind that either.

“How long are you in Chicago?”

A quick, heated glance as they moved across the street. “I suppose that depends on you.”

Caroline considered that and decided that this Spring Break had the potential to be a lot more fun than she’d anticipated.

Hold on, I got you now

ao3 link

warnings: mentions of smut but no actual smut, hazardous stimming, eating disorder/high metabolism/not realizing the disorder, vomiting, general foodstuff hate, swearing, general angst. all characters are of age (theyre like 20ish in this)

(it does however, have humor and paladin bonding, fluff, and a happy ending.)

Keep reading

notice (peter parker)

welp i wrote stuff when exactly zero (0) people asked me to, i’ll tag the shit out of this so hopefully people see it. please please please give me feedback and also request stuff if you like it or yell with me about spider-man,,,i’m in too deep lads

it started with chemistry.

a small, barely noticeable curl fluttered at the very top of his forehead. of course, you noticed it, because you noticed everything about him, the bane of your existence, one peter benjamin parker.

to be perfectly honest, it started long before chemistry—“it” being your infatuation with this intelligent but bumbling boy—but in this case, what started that day was what you referred to as “the beginning”, the beginning of something much more than what you already had.

you watched the curl dance along his hairline from the slight breeze coming through the open windows of the lab. every once in a while he blew upward, trying to force the curl off of his forehead, as if it was bugging him immensely. (but how could it, you wondered, when it was so miniscule that surely you were the only one to notice, as you did with everything about him, like how he buttoned his shirts up all the way or itched his nose when he was confused or the crinkle of his eyes when he laughed.)

(you had begun to realize that perhaps peter noticed a lot more than you thought, but that was an exploration for another day.)

Keep reading