this...could be taken as quite dark


This was supposed to be posted earlier in the week but I just now managed to finish it. Special thanks to @permanentcross for yelling at me to write it (and for not being mad at me for calling it Snowstorm - she’s cool with it). Let me know if you guys enjoy it! Much love, B xx


Originally posted by trairicordielaschiena

Being stuck at the hotel during a snowstorm, having nothing to do except looking at each other’s faces, Harry’s bored out of his mind. So, while you watch some stupid tv show, he’s lying on his tummy, scrolling through his phone and you’re lying on him, cheek smushed against his bum, cause it’s why not? Even though the heating is on, the view of the city covered in white fluffy snow on your window is giving you chills and you yearn to be close to him but he’s too focused on his damn phone to pay attention to you. 

Tired of the silly TV show and of being ignored in order for him to scroll aimlessly through social media, even though he’s never posting anything, you sigh, moving your head to look up at him, your cheek smushed to his bum as you look at the back of his head. His hair is messy, curling at the ends and with no sunglasses to hold it back, you can truly appreciate just how long his hair has become over the past few months, his sweats are clinging to his long legs and the long sleeved t-shirt make his broad shoulders look even wider with the white fabric straining against them.

He looks good and warm and so cozy that all you want is to snuggle up to him and be close, share languid kisses that make your tummy flutter with butterflies and your toes curl when he presses closer. But he’s on his phone. And, even though your hand is pressing to his back, scratching lightly over his shirt and you’re very much resting against him, he shows no signs of letting go of the small piece of technology he holds so dearly in his hands any time soon.

You’ve tried everything already - calling his name, to which he only gave you a mumbled “hum?” and when you continued to speak, you were left with no response from him; you’ve tried pinching his sides but the boy has a brain of steel and when he’s invested in something like he is on his phone, it’s hard to break him away from it. You’ve tried turning up the volume on the TV to see if the movie playing in it would catch his attention and make him move you up to him for a cuddle while you both watch it but not even then had you managed to catch his eye and you were sick of it.

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A Warm Welcome [h.s.]

A/N: here’s some hades!harry! Sorry if it’s shitty I’m trying to get back in the game! And sorry for any typos and mistakes! Enjoy :-)


Being a god comes with a large bundle of heightened emotions and Harry honestly wishes that they had an off switch. Celestial beings are called “celestial” for a reason, after all. They’re abnormally better than any human, and thus they must keep an attitude and air that enforces nothing less, but damn feelings for being able to get in the way so easily.

Gods must be calm and collected under the most extraneous situations, they must rule with an iron fist, and most importantly, they must forbid emotions from deterring them in any way. He’s not saying that he hates feeling emotions more intensely; some are worth the toil. Pleasure, for example, is felt tenfold what any human could handle and he can almost say that this alone makes the troubles worth it. But it’s moments such as now that bring forward overpowering feelings that he wishes he could cast aside: a dangerous mixture of excitement and anxiousness.

More specifically, the excitement and anxiousness that comes with the return of his beloved wife, Persephone (or as he calls her, Y/N), from being away for her given six months of the year.

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-Gif does not belong to me-


“Sneaking out at night, aren’t we? How mischievous.” Fred spoke, teasing you with a smile.

“Is the prank supposed to go off tomorrow while the Slytherin’s are practicing?” George questioned.

Both men were on either side of you, as you three walked- well sneaked out of the castle, and outside, leading them to where you had a surprise for them. You had told the two boys that you had an idea for a prank that involved the Quidditch Pitch, but that you needed their help. The twins easily accepting as soon as you had said the word, “prank”. You had been best friends with the two boys since you met on the train that first year. You had taken notes on the two, being able to differentiate who was who, how different but also similar they were in personality, as well as personal interests, and their birthday. But they didn’t know that.

“Be patient, I have this all planned out.” You smiled as you all approached the Quidditch Pitch.

You quickly found yourself in the middle of the field, it was quite dark and hardly any of you could see anything. Just some fireworks sitting in the middle of the field. You grabbed out your wand from your robes, saying an incantation as the fireworks shot off quickly, lighting up the around in dashing colors. Fred and George’s eyes followed the sparkling beams of light as they had exploded into the air, the words “Happy Birthday Gred and Forge” appearing in bright letters, sparkling. There was no doubt in your mind that others from the castle could see this, just as your watch had hit midnight, April 1st. Fred and George’s birthday.

The two boys laughed and smiled with excitement as their eyes were practically glued to the scene. You took this opportunity to grab a bucket that was placed off to the side of the fireworks, though it could be mistaken for water, it was definitely not that. You went behind the boys, bucket in hand as you tossed the liquid over their heads, as a gasp of surprise emitted from both of them. Slime covered their hair, down their robes, nearly every inch of their body.

“Happy birthday you two! And Happy April Fools!” You smiled brightly as they two boys glanced at each other, then back you.

“Come here (Y/N!)” Both boys yelled as they quickly grabbed you, hugging you tightly as you could feel slime drench your body as they cuddled into you. You had wanted to protest, to try and break free. But you felt yourself lingering in their embrace as all of you laughed.

“Thank you, (Y/N)”

clark (M)

Summary: Sometimes, payback can be messy.

warning for smut


AN: :3 I hope all of you will enjoy this :)) I was a bit anxious on what would be a good first post. To more fics~ -Ivory

Originally posted by mvssmedia

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Beauty and the Beast (PART I)

Fandom: Gotham

Pairing: Jerome Valeska x Reader

Forever Tag: @angelicshinigami @tothetardissterek (if you’d like to be added to this list, please notify me)

Prompt: “hi you’re a great writer and i was wondering if you could an imagine where it’s kind of like beauty and the beast but the beast is jerome. i feel like it’d be quite a bit more dark but i thought it be an interesting prompt" - Anon

Summary: To protect everything you love, you are taken prisoner by a beast. But how bad could it truly be?

Word Count: 719

Warnings: None??? If you see anything possibly triggering plz tell me. 

A/N: This isn’t exactly 100% like Beauty and the Beast, it’s loosely based off of it. Reader is female. Jerome doesn’t actually look like The Beast. This imagine is in 3rd POV. Enjoy…

Originally posted by buckybarnex

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Once Upon a Time AU- Bartholomew “Barry” Allen: The ‘Evil’ King

He didn’t intend to let the darkness consume him. All it took was one revealed secret, though, from his best friend, and his life was ripped out from under him. Even after he was taken in by her father, King Joseph, Barry knew that he could never forgive Princess Iris or her family for taking his family away from him. 

So, he trained with Eobard, the Dark One. He let his magic and thirst for revenge grow, until he trapped the king in his magic mirror and sought out to destroy Iris’ happiness. Unfortunately, things didn’t quite go his way. He was overthrown, banished, and sent away with his loyal Huntsman to stew in his defeat.

But Barry had other plans. He conjured a curse–a curse that would send everyone from the Enchanted Forest into a world without magic and happy endings. A world where he could finally have his happiness.

At first, it was perfect. Then, Barry realized that, without someone to share his life with, there was no happiness. So, he adopted a beautiful baby girl named Lisa, and that was that. He finally had someone he loved that loved him unconditionally.

He didn’t expect, twelve years later, to have her run away and bring her birth father back with her. 

mino; On The Run

Originally posted by cyphermaniac

Hitman! Mino AU, 9.1k words

Warnings: Violence and strong language, please don’t read further if you’re not okay with that.

Sidenote: Originally split into parts (bc I’m terrible with chaptered fics) I hope that this is not all word vomit :’) Please turn a blind eye to the sudden change to third person, I wrote parts of this between months at a time. Appearances from Seunghoon and Jinwoo as well~

Others: Part 2


The third blow came as quick as the first one.

Wait, or was it the fourth?

It sent your ears ringing violently, unable to translate the muted words that barked out of his mouth. Warmth oozed out from your quivering mouth, catching drips of deep red pricking the front of your favourite dress. His favourite dress.

“Do you know how expensive this dress is?” You were impressed at how you managed to voice out anything at this point.

“I’m not playing around, lady!”

The masked assailant charged a sharp kick to the leg of the chair, thumping you roughly against the pillar of the abandoned warehouse.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” He whispers through gritted teeth, tipping your chin curtly towards him. “Where the fuck is your boyfriend?”

“You kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?”

The next hit came in a split second, stinging your bruised skin so hard it almost felt numb. It struck your vision to a disorientated blur and you were desperately hanging on to Minho’s words.

If I’m not there, don’t give him what he wants.

“Listen, princess. You either tell me where he is or–”

Click. The muzzle of his handgun felt cool against your temple, making your toes curl in internal panic as you try to keep your composure.

Because if you do, he’ll kill you.

“Did you have a bowl of stupid for breakfast?”

If anyone in there was stupid, it was you. Everything that blubbered out of your mouth made no sense and if you were really to die today, you might as well be amusing.

“You’re funny, I’m starting to like you.” He scoffs out a bitter laugh and it was impossible to take your eyes off the weapon as he wipes the sweat off his forehead with the occupied fist.  

“Oh thank god. I didn’t think you’d come around.”

“This isn’t a fucking game.” He lurched towards you without warning, hot breath burning your skin, “I will kill you.”

And baby, I need you to stay alive.

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Acquainted with the Night (5/16)

Summary: In a bid for the power born of true love, King Arthur binds Emma to the broken blade Excalibur.  Unbeknownst to him, Killian Jones is bound to the other half, having given himself over to the darkness in order to exact his revenge on Rumpelstiltskin.  He frees Emma from King Arthur’s control, sparking the beginnings of war between Camelot and Misthaven, and a quest to rid her of the darkness.  (No Curse AU)

Rated: M

Warnings: None

Words: ~6300

Chapter: Prologue, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Epilogue

Notes: As always, love and gratitude to @ripplestitchskein​​ and @unfolded73​​ for their help with this story.  Credit to @seethelovelyintheworld​​ for the gorgeous banner.  

Tagging by request: @natascha-remi-ronin​​, @the-captains-ayebrows​​, @maryvmassakre​​, @katealexandra26​​, @superchocovian​​, @vanyali07​​, @imhookedonaswan​​, @captain–kitten​​, @dreadpirateemma​​, @like-waves-on-the-beach​​, @fairytalesandtimetravel

Also on ff and ao3

Chapter Four

Dawn broke, gentle and quiet, before Emma was convinced that Mordred no longer followed close behind.  Whatever curse he had cast, the magic strange and unknowable to her, it did not seem to be able to follow them on foot.  From her perch on a fallen log – the dew, gathered on tufts of moss, seeping into her trousers – she listened.  The sounds of the forest echoed brightly in her ears, no longer quite so intrusive.  Droplets of water coalesced at the crests of leaves, falling to the ground with a soft thud.  Birds all around began a tentative song, ruffling their feathers, and picking away at the soggy bark of the mighty oaks.  The breeze was gentle, but steady, and the gnarled branches creaked as they swayed back and forth.  Water living deep in the earth wound patiently through the soil, rising to feed the stream below her feet.  Smooth pebbles and boulders tumbled easily through the water, slicked over with algae.  It was a pleasant chorus, atonal but synchronized, growing louder as the sun angled higher.

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One Year | A Gaston Story (Chapter Five)

One Year | A Gaston Story

Gaston (Luke Evans) X OC

Summary: Gaston made all the wrong choices in life, and when a dramatic fall from the Beast’s castle leaves him wounded and near-death, he thinks it’s the end of his time. When an old beggar woman appears at his side, she heals him back to his normal self but gives him one year, and only one year, to find true love before his time on earth, and the town’s memories of him, come to an end.

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five

LeFou was always the punchline of Gaston’s jokes, the lifelong childhood friend whose loyalty towards Gaston was incontrovertible, the “funny guy” who was always present for a good laugh and whose kindness could easily be taken advantage of. It had been quite unchallenging in the past for LeFou to endure Gaston’s obsession with women and war because he believed, in the end, Gaston’s feelings may change towards him.

Gaston wasn’t lionhearted and audacious in his childhood, that part of his persona developed after his parents died, but LeFou couldn’t help himself for being so attracted to him as they grew up. Who wasn’t attracted to Gaston the Hunter? The war hero was the epitome of “tall, dark and handsome” and his success in the village and on the battlefield made every man want to be him and every woman want to sleep with him, or so Gaston assumed. And that precisely was LeFou’s major conflict: he struggled internally with the desire to be Gaston and the desire to be with him. However, people often overlooked just how kind LeFou was and his passionate feelings towards Gaston were set on the backburner for the purpose that the young sidekick simply cared too much about their friendship.

And so, LeFou smiled politely this time last year when Gaston would revolve his days around wooing Belle, the beautiful oddball and bookworm, only for her to reject him constantly. It pained LeFou to watch as Gaston continued making advances on Belle. He knew it would never work out. He couldn’t speak up, he attempted (on multiple occasions), but his belief that Belle could not be more wrong for Gaston was something that the war hero would not accept. She was certainly the most beautiful girl in the village, that much was true, but as the days passed and the rejections were ongoing, LeFou understood that the idea of courting Belle was more of a chase in Gaston’s eyes than an authentic, passionate feeling. He wanted to win. Belle was the prize, she would be his only prize, and the night the mob formed, LeFou was horrified to see the fire screaming inside of Gaston’s dark eyes. Truth be told, Gaston leaving Maurice in the woods to be eaten by wolves was the start of LeFou’s faltering loyalty. How could someone leave an elderly man, a father, tied to a tree to be mauled by vicious animals? And then, that dreaded night when they attacked the castle, LeFou knew that in the hero’s mind, the town had evaporated and he was standing in the middle of the battlefield, ready at a moment’s notice to slaughter the Beast and finally claim his reward. It became all too much for LeFou, his friend was gone and he simply didn’t recognize the monster towering over him, screaming “Do you want to be next?!

He didn’t expect Gaston to survive, no one did, it was an absolute miracle that he was spotted rushing into his tavern the morning after the fall. At first glance, he was unharmed, but when he turned his body sharply as he ripped the tavern door open, a few villagers noted blood stains on the white shirt ruffles that feathered down his chest. That morning was the last glance most of the village had of Gaston, and when LeFou discovered his friend had survived, he spent the following days fighting an inner battle of helping Gaston or shunning him indefinitely. When the rest of the town collectively declared Option B, LeFou’s affectionate heart twisted with guilt and apprehension. Gaston did not cope well with hatred or ill-thoughts of his character and, though seemingly deserving, LeFou simply couldn’t abandon his friend.

In the months after the fall, LeFou gathered as many people into the tavern until the daily customer count improved to four. He didn’t expect praise, it was obvious Gaston refused to exit his room, but LeFou didn’t give up on him. Stanley was patient with this slow progress, well aware of LeFou’s past feelings, but he loved LeFou, after all. He supported him. The prolonged game of winning Gaston’s heart ceased with Stanley now in his life, and LeFou’s genuine acts of caring were to help his old friend, well, live again. It seemed absolutely hopeless until the day Anne wandered into the village. Unlike Belle, the chemistry between the new girl and Gaston was stimulating and LeFou couldn’t deny that maybe she possessed this certain “je ne sais quoi” that would ultimately change Gaston for the better. He could at least hope.

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Hang in There

Sam Winchester x Reader

2400 Words

Summary: During a hunt the Reader makes a mistake, getting Sam hurt. When a frustrated Dean confronts her, she runs, leaving behind a hunting life. Weeks later, a familiar face shows up, reminding her of the life she left behind.

This is written for @impalaimagining and her Sam Winchester Birthday Challenge. My prompt was #25   I’m sorry I haven’t hung up the ‘hang in there’ kitty poster yet. Thanks for letting me join, and I hope you like my story!!

Warnings: Little angst, little fluff, Dean not being the nicest. 

“Damn it Y/N!” Dean yelled as he slammed the door to the Impala, making you all wince. He had to be pissed if he treated his precious car that bad. Knowing what he had to say to you would be nothing but negative and hurtful, you pulled your bag out of the car, rushing from the garage and into your room, leaving him to haul his hurt brother out of the Impala. Feeling guilty for not staying and helping, for making sure Sam would be alright. But you couldn’t handle Dean’s contempt for you, his barely contained fury at the fact that you had accidentally gotten his brother hurt.

You hadn’t meant to get Sam hurt. The hunt had been harder than any of you had expected, and the three of you were stretched beyond thin. The three of you had spread out throughout the house, looking for the werewolves. You had taken the basement, getting overtaken too easily. With at least six werewolves you had thought you would be their prey when Sam had shown up, taking two down before the standoff had happened. With your neck in their werewolves claws, Sam had made the decision to spare your life for his, a fact that would haunt you for a long time. As they rounded on him, you had been thrown off to the side, your head banging against the wall. From there you had watched as they sliced their claws across Sam, never biting him, but doing enough damage that he was bleeding heavily from multiple spots.

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embraceyourfandom  asked:

Group of drunk people end up at Phil's and play "Never have I ever..."

“Okay, okay, okay.” Tony waved his hand and raised his voice to be heard above the ongoing conversations. “I call foul on that one. No way Spider Lady hasn’t finished a whole bottle of vodka by herself.”

“Some of us know our limits,” Natasha shot back, kicking a leg over the arm of the chair she’d claimed as her own.  Without enough seating in Phil’s small living room, they’d resorted to rock, paper, sissors to decide who got the couch.  Nobody made Natasha play. “Now it’s my turn.  Never have I ever …” she looked directly at Clint as she spoke … “written a poem for someone.”

Clint glared back; he might be drunk but he knew exactly what she was doing.

“Ah, I have composed sonnets to the beautiful Jane!” Thor tossed back a shot and banged the glass on Phil’s coffee table. “This is not a difficult game after all.”

Tony shrugged then drank.  “Hey, it works like a charm, what can I say. Rhyme a few words and some people fall instantly.”

Steve’s glass went untouched. “I draw pictures, okay?” he said when Tony gave him the evil eye.

“Oh, Agent Agent! Do tell!” Tony badgered. “Was it a sonnet? An ode to her beautiful hair? I bet it was some Shakespearian shit wasn’t it? My mistress’s eyes are nothing like the sun …”

“It was free verse.” Phil flushed even redder than he already was, averting his gaze to the empty glass in front of him.  From his place seated next to Phil on the floor, Clint could see the top curls of dark hair where Phil had taken off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.  The more he drank, the cuter Phil became, the perfect agent mask slipping to show the nerdy geek inside that Clint adored. “And it was about hands.”

That last sentence must have slipped out because Phil winced as he realized what he’d said. Clint had never seen his handler quite so open about himself. It wasn’t just the alcohol; the fight earlier had been emotionally draining, a bloody mess that they couldn’t make better.  Bad enough that getting rip roaring drunk was high on everyone’s agenda for the evening.

“My Cellist’s fingers are supple and long, the better to … Ow.” Tony rubbed his shoulder where Natasha kicked him. “Seriously, you guys know how I am. Why do you keep bruising me for being me?”

“Clint?” Steve asked. The man noticed everything including how Clint’s hands hovered near his glass.

“Fine.” The liquor burned on the way down. “One time, okay? And it was a dirty limerick, nothing flowery or sappy.”

“There once was a man from Nantucket …” Tony paused but no one made a move his way. “Gah, it’s no fun when you don’t respond.”

“Dirty? You wrote about not washing?” Thor asked.

“Dirty as in sexual, using vulgar words and crude language,” Natasha supplied. “Clint, why don’t you recite it for us?”

“Fuck you, Nat.” He meant it with his whole heart. “I really don’t like you.”

“You love me and  you know it.” She grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “I know you remember it.”

“Yeah, come on Legolas. Every drinking party needs some cussing,” Tony agreed.

“I showed you the dance I used to do on stage,” Steve reminded them. “And Thor balanced on his hammer to prove he could.”

He could only hope Phil didn’t notice … but that was an impossibility since Phil remembered everything. He was so screwed.

“There once was an agent of SHIELD,

who kicked ass routinely afield,

I jerk off every night,

after watching him fight,

don’t ask who, my lips are sealed.”  

Of course, Tony and Thor clapped, both of them cheering.  Steve had the good grace to blush even if his eyes flicked back and forth between Clint and Phil. Natasha only smiled, looking not at him but at Coulson. For long seconds, Clint couldn’t bring himself to look, but, after a breath, he glanced sideways to see Phil giving him a thoughtful look.

“Knobby fingers circle my wrists,

Calloused palms catch my skin

Strong knuckles grip my arms,

Soft tips stroke my neck.

Battered by years and work and danger

These hands hold me when all else fails.”

Clint’s eyes widened and the sound of the others faded into the background.

“You wrote that for me?” he asked.

“You jerk off thinking about me?” Phil asked.

“Yeah,” they both replied at the same time.

Clint leaned and so did Phil meeting halfway to brush their lips together.

“Okay, lovebirds,” Tony interrupted. “We gonna play the game or are you two going to get a room.”

“I need a break,” Phil said, never taking his eyes off Clint.

“Sounds good,” Clint agreed, hauling himself up. “Kitchen?”


“My work here is done,” Natasha said.

anonymous asked:

1 for rebelcaptain????

1. First kiss 

“So I know the Alliance doesn’t hesitate to hang you up by the toenails if you step out of line,” Jyn said. “but how much trouble exactly will we be in if we get caught?”

“You planning on getting caught?”

“Just wondering whether we should back each other up or if I should just throw you under the shuttle bus.”

Cassian chuckled lightly, but didn’t answer her. He knew he didn’t need to. For two people who spent every waking moment together, they sure didn’t say a lot, but who needed words when you had each other? Ever since she was sixteen, Jyn had admittedly spent her life running from the kind of intimacy that Cassian’s presence invoked. There was an unspoken connection, something that had passed between them as they’d embraced on the beach that day. She would see his face, feel his arms, and remember the fear mixed with the most ultimate layer of calm she had ever felt while wrapped up in him.

Despite the wave of death coming for them, it had been the safest she’d ever felt.

Jyn just swallowed her last mouthful of a heavenly hot meat sandwich. She had been complaining about the terrible imitations of ‘food’ that the mess hall had been putting out for over a week now, so when Cassian had strode into her room an hour earlier and taken her hand saying, “Come with me,” she hadn’t hesitated. They had joked about the mess droids hording all the good rations, but she still hadn’t quite expected Cassian to break them in just so that they could sit cross-legged on two crates eating something that wasn’t freeze-dried for a change.

Yes. There was something here.

They sat in the dark, not willing to risk getting caught just from turning the lights on. She could see his outline from the residual light of the mess hall, harsh lines and soft in between. Something was changing, charging in the air between them. The last six months since Scarif had been long and stressful, but somehow throughout it all, this man understood her and she understood him. They both knew when to push and when to step back, when they needed a little more from each other and when they needed nothing at all. They couldn’t explain it. They just knew, always knew. Suddenly, Jyn put down the empty plate in her hands.

Cassian’s breathing hitched slightly when she moved across the small foot of space between them and kissed him harshly, firmly. She wasn’t thinking and yet was somehow thinking about everything all at the same time. Cassian, Cassian, Cassian … Her hand curled into his hair, the other reaching down and tugging his own plate out of his slack grip, letting it clatter to the floor. His arms snagged around her waist and pulled her in with a fierceness that sent something sizzling down her spine. His breath was hot against her and she felt herself smile into his lips.

At the movement she heard him mumble, “What, what is it?” but she shook her head, lips never leaving his. 

“Now isn’t the time for talking, Cassian. We’ll have plenty of time for that later.”

He just kissed her back, matching her tight grip around him.

“Yes, we will.”

Don’t You Want Me? (Jooheon x Reader)

Rating: M

(A/N) YA’LL. WHAT IS GOOD???? It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything and what a great way to return then with some Monsta X? I’ve recently fallen extremely hard for this group of boys and I’m already in way too deep. Help, I’m drowning in Wonho and Shownu’s back sweat. Ew, okay that was gross. Anyway, without further ado, here’s some yummy first-time smutty smut with my dimple-faced angel Jooheon (◕‿◕✿)

Originally posted by destinybbb

You couldn’t ever say no to Jooheon, no matter what the request, big or small. You were already a huge pushover, but when it came to that dimple-faced angel, you were completely powerless to him. So when he begged and pleaded to go camping down by a popular creek to celebrate your six month anniversary, he didn’t have to try too hard to break your will.

You liked camping, but you didn’t love it like all the crazy outdoors nuts. You liked laying out in the sun to tan, eating the delicious camping food, and just lazing around without a care for what time it was or what you had to get done. You didn’t love, however, the bugs, the unpacking, the packing, the greasy hair, and the stink that just clung to you no matter what you tried.

But you would put up with it, for Jooheon, because you loved him more than anything…and you also had a surprise in store for him.

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Stars in the Night: Chapter 3

Yay they’re talking! It’s the start of a beautiful, stressful, tear inducing, painful relationship. Awwwwwww! <3

It’s rather an uneventful chapter, but it’s a necessary evil. Our couple of awkward dorks have to start of somewhere. They’re so awkward it’s cute. No worries, the awkwardness will clear up real soon, I swear. 

Also there will be more tears. yayyayayayay.

Tagging: @cupnoodle-queen@nifwrites, @themissimmortal, @stunninglyignis, @noctis-gar

Word Count: 1,436

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Stella proved herself quite useful with a pistol. She was no Prompto, but she could handle herself. 

The group of five managed to eliminate the pests Cindy requested to be taken care of. They each came out of their battle with minimal cuts and bruises. Nothing a simply potion couldn’t fix.

Before they were able to return to Hammerhead, Cindy alerted Noctis about a Hunter that had gone missing in the area. Without hesitation, Noctis accepted the responsibility to look for this man named “Dave.”

It was getting dangerously dark before they even had an opportunity to start the man hunt. “I suppose Dave will have to hang on until morning,” Gladio sighed, watching the sun meet up with the horizon. “There’s a sanctuary up ahead.  Let’s set up camp.”

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anonymous asked:

what do you think of anisoka?

I like it! To be honest, in canon itself, I see it very much as a sibling kind of dynamic. Ahsoka is basically the little sister Anakin never had, and I love their dynamic. 

As for Anisoka in a romantic context… As I said, their dynamic never had any romantic undertones: they had pet nicknames (Snips and Skyguy), they bickered and teased each other, but they were always way more like brother and sister and never had the respectful distance you’d usually see in master and padawan relationships, unless they were in front of members of the Jedi Council and had to behave as such. 

They were also very similar in character: what I think happened for TCW is that some characteristics Anakin showed in the movies were taken away from him and given to Ahsoka. It resulted in an Anakin who was way more sympathetic and relatable for a lot of people, while said characteristics Ahsoka got from Anakin never made her annoying, but rather endearing.

Throughout their time together, there were many times where Anakin and Ahsoka showed behavior when they were together (Anakin alone is another matter) that wasn’t quite “proper Jedi behavior”. But on the other hand, it was never really presented as them acting all “Dark Side” either. You could actually say they were in a grayer area.  

But what made all the difference was that Ahsoka was a LOT more emotionally stable than Anakin, and despite all the hardships she went through, she kept a solid moral compass and a kind heart, no matter what. 

This leads me to compare how Anakin behaves around Padmé, and how he behaves around Ahsoka. He loved them both, very, very much: they were the two people he loved the most along with Obi-Wan and his mother. They were his family when he had none left: Padmé was the love of his life, Obi-Wan his brother and mentor and Ahsoka his little sister. But Padmé and Ahsoka were both very different in their own way. 

Padmé was a brilliant lady: she became Queen of Naboo at fourteen years old, gave a big lucky finger to the Senate and went to save her planet on her own from the Trade Federation, was one of the most illustrious Senators of her time and set the bases for the Rebellion along with Bail Organa and Mon Mothma. She was kind and idealistic, and those were her biggest assets as well as the catalysts to her downfall.

When she first met Anakin, he was still a sweet, innocent little boy: what didn’t help is that even afterwards, she kept on seeing him that way, up to Attack of the Clones, and she realized how truly damaged Anakin was when it was too late.

It also didn’t help that she wasn’t Force-sensitive, and a marriage between a Force-sensitive and a non-Force-sensitive having complications or misunderstandings seems to be A-Thing in the Galaxy Far Far Away. Han and Leia are another example, and this has repercussions on their son, how he is now (though it’s not the only cause, of course), and perhaps even the fate of the galaxy, and that’s not unlike Anakin and Padmé: but that’s a discussion for another day.

Anakin did genuinely love Padmé, more than anything. But he was always taught to repress his emotions, and was encouraged to “let go of everything he feared to lose”. Considering that mourning has different stages, going straight to acceptance is very unhealthy. As a result, Anakin was very much an emotional trainwreck, and that’s what led him to become so possessive of Padmé. 

Anakin and Padmé are very much the Romeo and Juliet of Star Wars: in AOTC, they were two teenagers forced to grow up way too quickly and who clung to each to each other by believing the other might be an anchor to what appears to be a “normal life”. But as Padmé said in the Clovis arc in TCW, it was a marriage built on lies and deceit. 

Anakin’s downfall came from being unable to accept fate and becoming obsessed with protecting his loved ones at all costs, even if it meant destroying other people’s lives. All of this isn’t Padmé’s fault, of course, since she’s very much a victim in all this mess, but she was an unwilling catalyst. This, unfortunately, leads me to declare that while Anakin and Padmé did love each other, Padmé was the one who brought out the worst in Anakin.

It didn’t help either that whenever Anakin was upset, Padmé would always receive the other end. Of course, he wasn’t verbally or physically abusive with her: but for Anakin, she was the only person he could vent to about his frustrations and his pains. He knew he couldn’t do that with Obi-Wan, since he didn’t trust him enough for that, and because he would probably shoot something not very helpful like “Remember the Jedi code” or something. Padmé, on the other hand, was either too nice, too polite, or a mix of both to tell Anakin to get a grip on himself. Or maybe she also thought that Anakin did need to vent, which isn’t a bad thing in itself: but as I said, Padmé still saw Anakin as the sweet little boy from Tatooine, so it often ended up with her not seeing the gravity of Anakin’s situation.  

What about Ahsoka? 

What makes the difference is that Ahsoka was a lot more emotionally stable than Anakin and even Padmé. She didn’t exactly follow the “no attachments” rule to a T, but in hard or even unhealthy situations, she knew when to let go and even when to leave. That’s what led her to leave the Jedi Order behind when she couldn’t trust them anymore, instead of clinging to them like Anakin did. He didn’t trust the Jedi Council, but he stayed with them nonetheless because it provided him a sense of stability. Ahsoka, on the other hand, was willing to accept to go plunge into the unknown, for her own sake. That was how she coped: she walked away. 

Because of that level-headedness, Ahsoka was a lot more efficient at standing up to Anakin. Not that Padmé wasn’t: but her not being able to take off her “little-Ani-goggles”, her emotional needs, and her lack of Force-sensitivity made her blind to Anakin’s pull towards the Dark Side. And that’s the tragedy of Padmé Amidala. 

No offense, Padmé, I still love you. 

But let’s just say overall that despite being Luke and Leia’s parents, and despite their love for each other, Anakin and Padmé were actually pretty badly suited for each other, especially given the circumstances. 

Ahsoka, on the other hand, was never afraid of calling Anakin out on his BS. And it worked.

She understood Anakin, more than anyone else could, and Anakin knew that. Heck, she even knew he was miserable in the Jedi Order. Like it or not, she was the only person he knew he could fully trust. That was something he could do with anyone else, not even Padmé or Obi-Wan. They were more equals than Master and Padawan, and because Anakin truly felt comfortable around Ahsoka, she was the one who brought out the best in him.  

Seriously, though, watch Anakin in season 6, after Ahsoka has left. Behavior-wise, he has definitely regressed.

Also, as I said, while Anakin always vented on Padmé, since she was the only person who didn’t tell him to shut up about his frustrations, and since Obi-Wan would probably give him some not-so-helpful advice, he didn’t really do it with Ahsoka. The reason why, though, is different: he knew he had to be a big brother figure to her, so of course, he had to hold back. But the thing is, she provided him a good distraction from his ProblemsTM. That was actually very beneficial for Anakin. He always protected Ahsoka at all costs, but at the same time, he knew he could trust her and that she would never let him down. And she didn’t, even when she discovered he had become Darth Vader.

So long story short: what Anakin needed at all times was someone like Ahsoka. 

Could have the galaxy’s fate been entirely different if Ahsoka had been a few years older and Anakin had fallen in love with her instead? Probably, yes. But still, honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Palpatine was the true mastermind behind Barriss’ terrorist attack on the Jedi Temple to frame Ahsoka and get rid of her in one way or another. With Ahsoka around, even Revenge of the Sith itself might have been different.

tl;dr So, basically, if Ahsoka was a few years older, could I see Anisoka happening? Definitely. 

fallen silk // TAEHYUNG [PT1]

summary - Enrolling at one of the most renowned fashion schools was what you have been working towards ever since you first had a needle and thread in hand. You made sure that nothing would come between you and your goal, but you didn’t expect an effortlessly handsome boy to completely overrule your priorities.
word count - 2.4k

genre - fashiondesigner!au, fluff, angst + smut in later parts
pairing - Taehyung x OC/Reader
warnings - none~

A/N - so i’ve been inspired to write this by tae himself…but also because i’ve been binge watching project runway, not gonna lie. also, thanks to Tammy, my fav kesha stan @boymeetsfiction, for helping me with finding the title ♡

Originally posted by mvssmedia

PART 1 // PART 2

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Don’t Scream Too Loud

Summary: You give Bucky a blow-job in a public bathroom, and he tries his absolute best to be quiet.

Word Count: 1,118

Warning: Smut. Oral sex. Rough-ish Bucky.

A/N: This is a re-write of a Dean fic I have. It’s pure smut. Here you go, hope you all like!

Originally posted by shhhh-no-ones-home

You felt the corner of your lip quirk up conceitedly, your hand continuing to flutter about Bucky’s thigh. From your peripheral view, you could see his fingers flex around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white from how hard he was holding on. You kept your eyes trained on the road, looking nonchalant as the car sped across the interstate.

“Doll,” whispered Bucky, voice low and full of warning.

“Yeah, baby?” you asked innocently, your hand squeezing his upper thigh as you spoke.

“Y/N, I… I don’t want to crash—”

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Ghostbusters (Peter Parker)

Originally posted by tomhollanddaily

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reckless!Reader

Warning: Cursing, ghosts and stuff

Summary: Y/n prides herself in being a ghost hunter and Peter is pretty sure ghosts aren’t real. One day while the city is quiet and Peter doesn’t have to fight crime, Y/n decides that she and Peter need to hunt some ghosts.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: This is just a funny little fic I thought up while watching Buzzfeed Unsolved. Those guys crack me up and I thought what Peter would be like while ghost hunting. 

Masterlist Request Any Of These

“Peter… Peter… Peter!” Y/n spoke softly, shaking Peter’s sleeping body wildly as she pushed him off his desk.

Peter’s eyes opened slowly as he jerked away from his best friend. He leaned back in his seat, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and examined his friend. 

“What is that?” he asked, pointing to Y/n’s head.

Y/n stood before him, her arms crossed over her chest as she shivered in the cool room. She had on the hoodie Peter had been looking for for months, ripped jeans, a beanie and boots, not too different from her normal attire, but the thing that Peter questioned was the small camera Y/n had strapped to her beanie.

“It’s my ghost hunting camera.” Y/n stated in a matter-of-fact tone. 

“And why do you have that?” Peter asked, hoping she wouldn’t say it. 

“Cause you and me, Petey, we’re going ghost hunting.” Y/n grinned. 

“And she said it.” Peter muttered to himself before rising from his seat. “Bug, how many times do I have to tell you? Ghosts are not real. They aren’t scientifically possible.”

“Um, yes they are. And they are scientifically possible. Paranormal science exists for a reason, you know.” 

“Just because you saw paranormal science in a Ghostbusters movie does not mean it is a real thing.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

Y/n squinted at the boy. “I don’t believe you.”

“The Mandela Effect you keep talking about isn’t real, either.”

Y/n gasped dramatically and put a hand to her chest. “Don’t you dare use the Mandela Effect’s name in vain! And if you can be bitten by a radioactive spider, as stupid as it sounds, then all I believe in can be real. Now, get dressed. We’re going out.”

Peter steadied the flashlight in his hand. He would never tell Y/n, but he was quite scared of being in the dark open spaces of the abandoned hospital she had taken him to. 

“Are you feeling it now, Mr. Krabs?” Y/n asked, wiggling her brows as Peter shined his flashlight on her. 

“What do you mean?” Peter gave her a look. 

“Don’t you feel the ghosts? The crazy energy of this place?”

“The only thing I’m feeling is stupidity for following you here.”

“Oh, come on, Petey. Lighten up! This is fun!” Y/n skipped down the dark hall, her beam of light being the only thing that Peter could see until he couldn’t see it much longer.

He felt panic swell up in his chest as he sprinted down the hall to where he had last seen Y/n. It was when he was panting and sick to his stomach that he felt a hand creep up his shoulder. He screamed loudly and jumped as a laugh emerged from behind him.

“Oh…my…god! I got you so good!” Y/n said in between laughs. “I think I might pee myself! Ah!”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, bug. You’re hilarious.” Peter replied sarcastically, clutching his chest as he tried to get his heartbeat to slow.

“I am very hilarious, thank you.” Y/n smiled as she wiped joyful tears from her eyes. “Now let’s get serious.”

“Like you’re ever seri-”

“Shut it, bug boy! It’s time to be serious.” Y/n cut Peter off, positioning the flashlight so that the light was illuminating her face in a dramatic way. “Now, a little run down of the history of this place. It was build in the 1900s, started out as a normal hospital, then became a sanitarium in the 1920s. They were so cruel as a sanitarium people believe there are angry spirits still haunting the east wing that had the shock therapy. Then, in the 1960s, it was shut down after a homicidal patient killed two nurses and a doctor in room 209.”


“We’re gonna go there. I wanna get spooked, duh.”

“I don’t know if we should go up there, bug.”

“Why? Are you scared, Peter?” Y/n mocked like a child, throwing her arm around Peter’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you, Spider-boy.”

‘I’m not scared. I just don’t trust the structure of this building.”

“Nope, you’re totally scared.”

“I am not scared.”

“Then prove it.” Y/n said, removing her arm from around Peter. “Race ya to room 209!”

Y/n began to take off, sprinting up the stairs as Peter gasped dramatically. 

“Wait for me!” Peter yelled, running after the laughing girl.

Y/n stood as still as a statue in the hall, the beam of light illuminating from her flashlight shook as Peter slowed down and walked towards her. 

Y/n’s flashlight was following the wheelchair that sat in the middle of the hallway, a wheelchair that had not stayed stagnant, but rolled back and forth the width of the hallway slowly, as if someone in it didn’t know how to use it. 

“Haha, very funny, bug. Where’s the fishing line or the person controlling the chair?” Peter stated sarcastically as he walked past Y/n.

“No…no! Peter, don’t!” Y/n stammered, her face as white as a ghost. 

“Don’t what? Touch the wheelchair?” Peter asked, walking toward the chair before it wheeled backwards and bumped into him before skittering down the hallway as Y/n let out a shriek. 

“I wasn’t doing that, Peter! Holy shit! I wasn’t doing that and we’re the only people in here!” Y/n cried, tears rimming her e/c eyes as Peter walked towards her with a nervous chuckle. 

“What are you talking about, bug? That was obviously remote controlled or something. You were just trying to scare me, right?”

“I-I was at first, but that wasn’t a prank I was pulling on you. It was a ghost! A motherfucking ghost!” Y/n cried as Peter turned as white as a sheet.

“What? That wasn’t you?” Y/n shook her head. 

“Fuck this! Ghostbusting is the worst! I’m pretty sure I pissed myself. The ghostbusters make this seem so easy.” Y/n rambled as Peter approached her, laughing loudly. “What? Why are you laughing?”

“Because- because I got you so good! Oh my god, bug, that was just a remote control!” Peter cried between laughs. “Come here, look.” 

Peter pulled out a remote controller from his pocket and flipped a switch on it and moved the joystick as the wheelchair came zooming down the hallway. He made it do a few turns before Y/n finally got herself to calm down.

“You are the absolute worst, Peter Parker.” Y/n said as she began to calm down. “But, I really think we should go.”

“What? Why?”

“Cause I really did piss myself…” Y/n stated softly, a blush rising to her cheeks. 

Peter chuckled. “Oh god, bug, seriously?” Y/n nodded. “Okay, let’s go back home, but you are going to sit on your jacket in the car cause you and I know both know May would be made if the car smelled like pee.”

“Well, I hope you know that this is your jacket.” Y/n giggled as she began to walk away, cursing herself with every step while Peter followed with a groan. 

They reached the entrance to the building faster than Y/n had expected when they hear a groan from up the stairs. 

“Did you hear that?” Y/n asked, looking over at Peter. 

“It was probably nothing, we should go.”

“No, I wanna know what that was.” Y/n argued before turning towards the staircase. “Hello?!” 

Her voice echoed for a moment before the two hear an ear piercing scream and they scrambled out the doors. 

Two of Peter’s jackets still smell.

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Kaito and Heiji meet?

who is allowing these two disaster zones to meet. oh right, you and me, anon, you and me.
(you can also read on AO3)

                                       Thick as Thieves

The first time he met Hattori Heiji, he’d just sent a man twice his age doubling over in pain. To be fair, the man in question was a common pickpocket, and had the audacity to prey on a little old lady on top of that, but still, it was quite the first impression. With what could be best described as a battle grin on his face, he hadn’t even hesitated for a moment to use his vinyl umbrella as a makeshift weapon.

As a result, it was now unusable. It was an end that was quite predictable- to everyone aside from Hattori Heiji, that was, who merely grumbled to himself and complained about how something like this had managed to happen again.

“You can borrow mine, if you want.” He wasn’t quite sure what prompted him to call out to the guy, but here he was, offering him an umbrella. “I forgot that I’d already put one in my bag last night, so I’ve got two now.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence as their eyes met, as if he were trying to process something. It was enough to cause the hairs on the back of his neck to raise- at least until a grin split his face, quite different from the fierce one that he had sported mere seconds ago. Whatever he had been thinking about, it had clearly been quickly resolved, so it probably wasn’t anything that important.

“Oh, thanks a bunch!” Taking the umbrella out of his hands, he opened it right up- not that it did much good, now that he was already half-soaked from the rain. If he was bothered by it any, he didn’t let it show. “That’s mighty generous of ya, even if it’s a spare!”

Kansai dialect. A strong one at that, Kaito couldn’t help but think. Vaguely, he felt as if he had heard something about a dark skinned young man speaking a strong Kansai-ben from somewhere before, but for the moment, he couldn’t quite place it.

“No, no, it’s the least I can do after you let me see something like that.” Kaito told him, motioning in the direction where what best could be described as carnage had unfolded. He was amazed the guy was even able to get up and run away after that blow, though it looked as if it had taken considerable effort on his part. “But are you sure it’s fine? He got away after that.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Waving a hand, Heiji turned back to look in that direction. “I got the purse back, after all. That was probably a crime of opportunity, if anythin’. Probably’ll think twice about doin’ that sort of thing from now on. More importantly, I didn’t get yer name.”

“My name?” Kaito asked, blinking quickly. He hadn’t expected that- he’d literally only just given him an umbrella, and in his book, that wasn’t exactly ground for more than a quick conversation. Still, he couldn’t say that he disliked it- there was something almost infectious about the guy’s grin. “I’m Kaito. Kuroba Kaito.”

“Kuroba-han, huh?” Switching the hand he was using to hold his umbrella, Heiji stuck out a hand. “I’m Hattori Heiji.”

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