unsettling days


i.e. Tae’s Scary When He’s Angry

Taehyung x reader

Word Count: 12,566 (yikes)

Dedicated to my equally obsessive and kinky friend, Abbie (you know you loved it).

Warning: lots of fluff, love (aka serious business), humor, awfully kinky situations, teasing, and smut (not all in that order though)

A/N: You’re welcome ;) This is the beginning of a series of drabbles for this couple, and was really fun to write. *It’s not meant to be completely realistic, but I tried to keep the boys’ characters in mind, but come on, we all fantasize.* Enjoy~

Important note: ‘Italicized words in this format are Y/N’s thoughts.’

  You had done everything in your power to get Taehyung’s attention, due to his recent unresponsiveness. You were sure he was snubbing you, but for what reason you didn’t know.

  Tonight, Tae and the rest of BTS had a stage and press meet for Mnet, and you, per the norm, were to go along with them for support. Tae rarely left you behind for events such as this because he hated the thought of leaving you all alone at home. The few times he had been forced to leave you alone, he rushed back in despair, with promises to make up for all the lost time. Not that you minded. Those nights definitely made up for it.

  The past few days though, Tae had been very quiet. But not just quiet. He barely even looked at you while you two were together. He kept leaving for work early, barely touching the special breakfast you always made for the two of you to eat together while watching each other from across the table, as neither one of you were awake enough to speak in the mornings. Instead both sleepily, and happily grinning at each another from your self-designated seats.

  Recently though, Taehyung just did not seem to want to have anything to do with you. He had always been so open with you, so the fact that whatever that was on his mind was keeping him from speaking openly with you, bothered you to no end.

 The first day, you just wondered if he was exhausted due to BTS’ recent mini-comeback, but you started to become fervent in your efforts to figure out what was going on with him. You checked just about every news and fan site dedicated to BTS to see if any of the fans had noticed something you hadn’t, but to no avail.      

 Apparently though, the fans seemed just as concerned about your husband as you. Not only was he distant at home, but at work as well. You had even texted the boys to ask them if they had any idea about what might be going on with him. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

 You began to panic after a few days because unsettling thoughts of Taehyung maybe cheating on you flooded your mind. You quickly dismissed them, though, because you knew Taehyung well enough to know that he would never cheat on you. Besides, you trusted him wholeheartedly. He was your best friend and hubbie after all.

  You were at a loss for what was going on with him, but you were determined to figure it out. At whatever the cost. Even if that meant flirting with the other members tonight at the event to get Tae jealous enough to speak to you.

 You knew Tae’s jealous and possessive side all too well. It happened to be the most effective method of getting what you wanted from him (not that you couldn’t ask for whatever you wanted, but it was typically worth the trouble when he was mad).

  You also knew the members of BTS well enough to know they’d be down for just about anything as long as no one was cheating on anybody, and was all in good fun. You were close with each of the boys, and you loved them all as your best friends, especially Taehyung, Jimin and Yoongi.

  Dressing for the event had been rather fun. You didn’t want something too revealing- that had never been your taste. You decided on a dark red turtleneck dress with long sleeves, and a short skirt that exposed your silky legs and thighs, and added red velvet pumps to top it off. You wanted to go all out tonight if you were going to go through with this plan.

  When you finished, you headed out of your closet and downstairs towards Taehyung. He had been pulling on his blazer when you walked out, and barely glanced at you when he grabbed his car keys. It wasn’t until he sat in the car, that something about you must have caught his attention, as he did a double take. He looked into your eyes with surprise for about 4 seconds before turning his eyes forward and starting the engine.

  Throughout the drive, Tae’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel, completely engrossed with the road ahead of him.

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earthzero  asked:

Holy cow, the Deathbike is intense! I hope Steve is feeling better after the concussion! And I hope your nerves are calming down after what must have been an unsettling day. It seems bikes are out of the question, too. How about roller skates? How much damage could Steve possibly do on a pair of roller skates?

the concussion was totally gone by the time he woke up. superhealing has its perks. my nerves, however, are in a constant state of “STEVE NO,” which my therapist describes as “enough to drive anybody batshit.”

after the Deathbike incident, we decided that steve can’t use anything with wheels. just to be safe. and then he went out for a walk and accidentally stumbled into and broke up a drug smuggling ring. 

so now we’ve just given up entirely.

I’d Live Them All The Same

Hello mates! You know I love angst, and, well, it just happened to be Angst Appreciation Day today, so yeah ;)

Characters: Older sister Winchester!reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester [mentioned], other members of the Winchester/Campbell family. 

Words: 2400+

Warnings: Broken reader, implied depression, just overall bad mental health. If you think about what Sam and Dean’s been through, it’s not far of a stretch from the show, but just know that it’s angsty (not the most angsty thing I’ve written though, sorry.)

A/N: I feel like I got a positive response to some of my older sister stuff I did a while back, and I also just got some older sister angst feels, so yeah, here you go. Also, there’s a couple of paragraphs (and title) taken from this song: Circles (MNG Remix) - Eden Project. If you want, listen to it while reading this, it builds up the angst ;)

Originally posted by kendaspntwd

If I told you how this story end,

Would you change a step you take?

And if I could relive all of my days,

I’d live them all the same.

‘cause I’m scared, of all that I don’t know,

'cause I want it all but all of it ain’t gold.

And I’m scared, but I know it’s not for long

'cause I’m learning what I should’ve long before.

You sat on the carpet clad floor of the dark motel room, right by the door. It was the middle of the night, but it wasn’t not quiet — your brothers’ steady breaths filled the room, filled you up with calmness. You clutched the shotgun tighter, and the cold metal of the barrel your hands were wrapped around was slowly getting warmer by the heat you were exuding. You’re 24 years old and you’re the protector of this family. Always had been, and always will be.

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I’m done breaking this down
breaking us down into
the indistinguishable

she no longer cares to know intentions
our myriad of compromise, for unsettling facts
this day to day clash
of competing exaction

I have become the bar on the gate
the bulwark against entropy…
time, knocking at the door

Unevenly Drawn Petals

Pairing: Levihan 

Word count: 6793

Summary: Soulmate AU in which whenever you write on yourself, it appears on your soulmates skin as well, and Hange is a horrible artist, much to Levi’s dismay.

A/N: First time posting one of my stories on here! Hope you guys liked it! I’ll be posting another part of this shortly which will consist entirely of Levihan fluff because I’m weak… Oops. 

When Levi was little, the concept of a soulmate didn’t make much sense to him.

The earliest encounter he remembered having that involved his soulmate was when he was just about the age of four-years-old. He could still recall the way his mother’s light eyes lit up at the sight of the green lettering that appeared in a scribbled manner across the pale skin of his forearm.

“Look, baby, that’s from your soulmate!” She had said in a happy tone, pointing it out with her index finger. He had stared down at the lines for a minute in silent contemplation, before scrubbing harshly at the skin with the palm of his hand. His mother quickly pulled his arm away, his skin now a bright red from the friction he caused to himself. He didn’t focus on that, his eyes instead trained on the green marker that still lingered there despite his best efforts to wash it away. He promptly burst into tears.

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anonymous asked:

I read Voyager a long time ago much before the TV series. I remember that Claire (and maybe Jamie) had sexual dreams with each other when they were separated but can't remember exactly those passages. Do you remember? If so, could you post them? Thank you! 😊

“She is gone,” he had said, and turned his face away. “Dinna speak her name to me again.” Loyal as always, Jenny had not, and neither had he. He could not have said what made him say it today; unless perhaps it was the dreams.

He had them often, in varying forms, and it always unsettled him the day after, as though for a moment Claire had really been near enough to touch, and then had drawn away again. He could swear that sometimes he woke with the smell of her on him, musky and rich, pricked with the sharp, fresh scents of leaves and green herbs. He had spilled his seed in his sleep more than once while dreaming, an occurrence that left him faintly shamed and uneasy in mind.


He dreamed of Claire that night. She lay in his arms, heavy-limbed and fragrant. She was with child; her belly round and smooth as a muskmelon, her breasts rich and full, the nipples dark as wine, urging him to taste them.

Her hand cupped itself between his legs, and he reached to return the favor, the small, fat softness of her filling his hand, pressing against him as she moved. She rose over him, smiling, her hair falling down around her face, and threw her leg across him.

“Give me your mouth,” he whispered, not knowing whether he meant to kiss her or to have her take him between her lips, only knowing he must have her somehow.

“Give me yours,” she said. She laughed and leaned down to him, hands on his shoulders, her hair brushing his face with the scent of moss and sunlight, and he felt the prickle of dry leaves against his back and knew they lay in the glen near Lallybroch, and her the color of the copper beeches all around; beech leaves and beechwood, gold eyes and a smooth white skin, skimmed with shadows.

Then her breast pressed against his mouth, and he took it eagerly, drawing her body tight against him as he suckled her. Her milk was hot and sweet, with a faint taste of silver, like a deer’s blood.

“Harder,” she whispered to him, and put her hand behind his head, gripping the back of his neck, pressing him to her. “Harder.”

She lay at her length upon him, his hands holding for dear life to the sweet flesh of her buttocks, feeling the small solid weight of the child upon his own belly, as though they shared it now, protecting the small round thing between their bodies.

He flung his arms about her, tight, and she held him tight as he jerked and shuddered, her hair in his face, her hands in his hair and the child between them, not knowing where any of the three of them began or ended.

He came awake suddenly, panting and sweating, half-curled on his side beneath one of the benches in the cell. It was not yet quite light, but he could see the shapes of the men who lay near him, and hoped he had not cried out. He closed his eyes at once, but the dream was gone. He lay quite still, his heart slowing, and waited for the dawn.



I woke up in the shadowed dark, hands clenched in the bedclothes, heart beating with a force that shook me like the skin of a kettledrum. “Jesus!” I said.

The silk of my nightgown was hot and clinging; looking down, I could dimly see my nipples thrusting through it, hard as marbles. The quivering spasms were still rippling through wrists and thighs, like the aftershocks of an earthquake. I hoped I hadn’t cried out. Probably not; I could hear Brianna’s breathing, untroubled and regular across the room.

I fell back on the pillow, shaking with weakness, the sudden flush washing my temples with damp.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” I muttered, breathing deeply as my heart slowly returned to normal.

One of the effects of a disturbed sleep cycle is that one stops dreaming coherently. Through the long years of early motherhood, and then of internship, residency, and nights on-call, I had got used to falling at once into oblivion when I lay down, with such dreams as occurred nothing more than fragments and flashes, restless flickers in the dark as synapses fired at random, recharging themselves for the work of the day that would come too soon.

In more recent years, with the resumption of something resembling a normal schedule, I had begun to dream again. The usual kinds of dreams, whether nightmare or good dream—long sequences of images, wanderings in the wood of the mind. And I was familiar with this kind of dream, too; it was common to what might politely be called periods of deprivation.

Usually, though, such dreams came floating, soft as the touch of satin sheets, and if they woke me, I fell at once back into sleep, glowing dimly with a memory that would not last ‘til morning.

This was different. Not that I remembered much about it, but I had a vague impression of hands that gripped me, rough and urgent, not wooing but compelling. And a voice, nearly shouting, that echoed in the chambers of my inner ear, along with the sound of my fading heartbeat.

-Dragonfly In Amber

bunch of bakunawa boy answers!!!

yes!! i like to think that while he’s still getting used to his bakunawa instincts fully manifesting, the closer it gets to the full moon, the stronger all his sea/moon longing gets. this translates into lots of sitting in the kiddie pool, looking at the sky with a telescope christine lent him, and hanging out with jeremy. 

plus his abilities also get heightened. i wasnt able to make it v clear in goodnight moon (aside from maybe like two sentences) since it’s in jeremy!pov, but mikey’s got Heightened Dragon Senses. not Too Much, but still better. his hearing and sight is better. he’s pretty damn fast. if he was a good swimmer in human form, his bakunawa form is that times fifty, times a hundred if the moon is full. while bakunawa magic comes mostly from the hereditary aspect within, it’s magnified by the moon, but nothing is Added. just strengthened.

related to above, it does get better!!!  while shifted, his eyesight is not just 20/20, but Really Fucking Good. like you know that post about the Nikon coolpix P900? that’s how good michael’s eyes are when he’s shifted. of course, when he’s human, it’s back to high grade glasses.

it takes him a while to learn this, but he practices partially shifting. like only shifting his hands to get claws, but without popping wings. when he finally figures out how to only shift his eyes into his golden, ridiculously good vision ones, he briefly entertains the concept of just keeping himself like that forever and ditching his glasses completely. but then he realizes that his dragon vision, while fantastic and very useful for when he’s in the air, is actually distracting and unsettling for day to day life. michael gets overwhelmed with the amount of stimuli his dragon vision picks up, put on edge by the high definition image of chalk dragging against a chalkboard or the barely visible stain on a shirt or how goddamn bright the lights are and and and

yeah. he doesnt need his glasses, in dragon form, but he sticks to them everywhere else.

id like to think he’d hate them!! michael loves flying but with his own wings, thank you very much. 

it takes a long, long time for him to learn how to fly, and he cant get too high. airplanes get rather High Up There. for reference, most airplanes have a cruising altitude of at least 39,000 feet. the highest altitude regularly reached by a bird, the Griffon Vulture, is 37,000 feet. michael doesnt even try to get up that high because he’s heard the urban horror stories of harpies getting sucked into jet engines and meeting a gruesome death. no siree, i’ll stay a little bit close to the ground.

if ever he’s in a plane though, he can feel how high up he is, and he gets very antsy. i assume supernaturals should remain unshifted during flights, just so that everybody fits in the seat no problem, but when they take off, michael would just itch to let his wings out on instinct. 

(dragon brain is simple. michael: in the air. wings: out. thankfully, logic obviously stops this trail of thought before anybody is forcibly removed from anywhere)

hhhhhhh!! this isnt even dragon instinct anymore this is just michael being a dude who cares for his best friend. “GO BACK HOME AND R E S T YOU CAN SCHEDULE UR FINAL SOME OTHER TIME JUST SHOW A DOCTOR’S CERTIFICATE” but jeremy is stubborn and insists he’s Fine and goes to school.

he is MISERABLE for the entire day but he trucks on through the headaches and the sniffling and the fever in spite of, not only michael’s protests, but all of his friends. 

during lunch that day, since Jeremy refuses to go to the clinic since he’d get sent home, it’s Take Care Of Jeremy Heere Central. Chloe lends him her cool jacket because Jeremy was a dumbo who forgot his at home. Brooke gives him a box of tissues that are so soft and dont irritate his noise, also a bottle of hand sanitzer with glitter bits in them. Jake does card tricks for Jeremy. it helps cheer him up. Rich (who im basing his werewolf-ness on teen wolf), helps Jeremy out with his headache by taking his pain through a not-so-subtle fistbump that lasts too long (rich had to be sneaky because jeremy wouldve never agreed to transfer his pain. jeremy is too out of it to even notice that fistbumps 1) dont last for 20 seconds and 2) shouldnt feel this blissfull). Christine draws a sigil on Jeremy’s hand that helps with the uncomfortable chill he’s feeling. Jenna cashes in a favor from the school ghosts to make sure that Jeremy gets to all his classes fine and doesn’t accidentally fall down the stairs in his exhaustion.

and Michael, well. for the first time in his life he’s a little bit pissed at his bakunawa powers, because all it lets him do is know and sense all the discomfort Jeremy’s going through from rooms away. he doesn’t have healing or runes or ghosts and he has nothing to give that the others havent given Jeremy already. so when class is over and Jeremy trudges through the hallway, he does what he can.

“Your place? Blankets, hot tea, and a marathon of Dogs 101 episodes?” Michael says. Next to him, Jeremy in all his stubborn sick glory smiles weakly, sincere all the same, and bumps his arm against Michael.

“Yeah,” he says. “That’d be awesome.”

(The whole drive to Jeremy’s house, the ancient, fearsome, powerful part of Michael’s brain purrs contentedly.)

True Connection (Part 1)

Word count:1000+

Summary: What if the reader was an empath and could feel when Bucky would get nightmares and would help him get through it. (Reader is am empath with powers like Wanda’s)

Fury assigned you to become an Avenger after you had shown signs of being an enhanced as they called it. He thought training with the Scarlett Witch could help you learn to control your ability. It helped on some levels while on others it didn’t. Your powers came from your emotions. You had to control them or else everything just went to hell. It terrified you. It wasn’t your fault HYDRA tried to make you a Scarlett Witch 2.0. You didn’t want to be this way but you just had to accept it and move on.

You and Wanda had become very close over the past few months. She helped you control looking into others minds. She also helped you calm down from your nightmares. But the telekinesis was where she couldn’t help you she wanted to but your powers were so different in that aspect that she couldn’t help.

Sadly your room is being remodeled at the moment (due to a very unsettling nightmare a few days ago) so you had to be put in a temporary room a few floors down.

You couldn’t sleep. It was 3am. You got frustrated. You tried tea, reading, everything. So you gave up. You just decided to meditate. As you got settled in a seated position on your bed, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You emptied your thoughts and just focused on the darkness. Calm. Serene. Tranquil, darkness. Then it came in flashes.

Gun shots, screams, fire, electricity. Your breathing became labored. These terrible flashes went through your head. You saw Bucky holding a gun to Steve’s head and BANG!

Your eyes shot open. You were sweating, and panting. You knew Bucky stayed on this floor. Was that his dream? Should you go check on him?

You got up from your bed and padded quietly down the hall. You reached his door and you felt his panic, his hatred, his confusion. You opened the door quietly and walked in. He was twitching in his sleep, soaked in sweat and panting. You needed to wake him up. You didn’t trust your powers to pull him out of a dream. That was way beyond your skill level at the moment. You took off down the hall to Steve’s room.

You knocked on the door. “Steve come on open up its important.” There was shuffling on the other side of the door and then it opened.

“(Y/N). It’s 3am what do you want?” Steve asked concerned.

“Bucky’s having a nightmare. I thought you’d be the best person to tell.” You told him. Steve perked up and followed you back down the hall to his room.

“How’d you know?” He asked.

“I saw it. I couldn’t sleep and I was meditating and I saw his dream.” You explained before you added softly. “It was terrifying.”

Steve entered Bucky’s room and woke him up. Bucky jumped up at the sudden intrusion in his room and was about to attack until he realized who it was. He relaxed when he saw it was Steve. He saw you standing in the doorway.

“Buck you okay?” Steve asked. The man faced Steve and gave a small nod. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Bucky shook his head no. Not now. It was not the right time. Steve patted his friend on the back and walked back to his room. Knowing he couldn’t do anything more.

“Why are you up doll?” He asked you.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You answered. “Are all your nightmares like that?” You ask him.

“Like what?”

“So violent. So all over the place.”

“What are you talking about” he asked confused.

“I couldn’t sleep and I was meditating and lol of the sudden these flashes of hatred and anger and confusion just washed over me, I-I saw you with a mask on and I felt the memory wiping thing they used. The electricity.”

“Yea. They are.” He responded sadly.

“I know you didn’t want to talk to Steve but I’ll be in the kitchen making some tea if you can’t sleep.” You told him as you retreated to the kitchen.

You were filling up the kettle when you felt another presence in the room. “Did you look into my mind on purpose?” He asked.

“No.” You answered firmly as you put the kettle on the stove and turned to face him. “I am still trying to control everything myself. Why would I risk it by looking into someone else’s mind? That’s why I went and got Steve. I didn’t want to go in your mind to pull you out of the dream. I could have hurt you by doing that. Besides, you have had enough people messing with your mind. I would never do it without your permission”

“I just wanted to make sure.” He told you as he sat in a chair by the counter. “I don’t think he would understand if I told him. I am shocked you are still in the same room as me after seeing that part of my mind.”

“We all have demons Buck. I know it wasn’t your fault. I know how HYDRA can be.  They never explained to you how they found me did they?”

“No. All I know is that you were here when I came back from Wakanda.” He told you.

“Let’s just say HYDRA has not changed over the years. I was one of their experiments. I graduated from the red room and they made me their guinea pig. I have only been enhanced for 3 months. I wasn’t born this way. Steve saw HYDRA but he never saw that part of HYDRA. Nat has seen it. Wanda and Pietro have seen it. And we have seen it. I just don’t think the others get just how cruel they are.” Bucky sat there staring at you. You poured the tea into two cups and handed him one.

Around 6 am you heard Steve coming down the hall towards you both. He entered the room and saw you both.

“Did either of you sleep after I left?” He asked.

“No.” He answered.

“(Y/N) you have training in an hour.”

“I know Steve. I just have a lot on my mind right now.” You tell him. During the night he told you everything about his time with HYDRA. Everything he could remember. You had sat there and listened intently. Occasionally telling him about your time with HYDRA.

Steve just looked at you and let it be. He didn’t want to pry, not just yet. “Just be ready. We are working hand to hand today.”

“Okay Steve.” You said quietly. When he left you figured you might as well get ready for training and warm up.

“Thank you for telling me all of that Bucky.” You told him as you left the room.

I’m Not Really the Best - (Poly!DemoReps x Reader) Part 4

WARNING: Physical Child Abuse, Violence, LOTS of Crying, Harsh Treatment, Pain, Mentions of Blood and Injuries, Ignoring said Pain and Feelings, Depression.

A/N: Pa-art f-four -crawling on the floor- Please don’t read when the above warnings trigger you. I hope you all have a nice day. < 3 < 3 -pass out on said floor- why do I make my characters suffer?

Tags: @robotic-space , @notalwaysfair , @kanadianwithashippingproblem , @sweet-fate

(Y/N) isn’t always this daring… or destructive. Back then she was a bubbly, energetic, overall happy person. That’s what (S/O) remembered her to be back in fourth grade. She often wears printed pastel shirts with matching baggy pants, her shoes were often dirty because she always spends her time running and jumping on high places. (Y/N) had the loudest voice in the room and was often called in detention for talking too loud or too fast.

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Tornado- Disasters Series

Sometimes destruction blindly rips apart everything in its path. And the only thing that can be done is to follow its trail and try to pick up the pieces and put them back where they need to be.

M (9765)

Ao3 and FF

If you like this, check out the rest of the Disasters series:
Landslide (FF)
Wildfire (FF)
Tsunami (FF)


               He shut the shower when the water started to run cold. Another useless session of trying to scrub his skin clean. He grabbed the towel sitting on the sink counter and began to dry his face, feeling the discomfort in every touch of fabric against him. Like something had just stretched out his flesh, then left it out to dry and now it no longer fit his form as it was intended, but was stiff and brittle, hard to move, while at the same time loose on him. Slipping but restrictive at the same time.

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Random experience of the day: A woman walked up to me on a crowded footpath and starting speaking to me in rapid German, when I told her I couldn’t understand her and asked if she spoke English she paused for  second and then said “I can see into your future”

When I asked her what she saw, she got frustrated, told me she didn’t know how to say it in English, and then walked off looking kind of annoyed at me.


‘No entry’ photo series submitted by Özkan Önal for Minimalzine.

‘The existence of the space-body interaction or its non-existence regarding a part of the suburb we live in or what is known as metro stations.

In the most general way of explaining things, space encompasses all senses, bodies, and objects.

Space, when bodies are nonexistent, as a scene, as an emptiness, with a creepy meaninglessness, reveals it’s disturbing and unsettling feature.

Each day we use metro stations with random people with the same goal of reaching a place. As a point in space, with it the experience we could not acquisite, ambiguates the body with its unexperienced and unexperimented presence.

After existing doors, staircases, and all constructed structures’ meaning is destructed and abstracted, then and only then starts to reshape and transform into a conceptual new formation.

Subsequently, after deconstructing the integrity of the meaning of nonexisting space, the need to ask this question is felt: “Where am I?” even more “What is where?” This is the question of the body.

Photographs, by asking this question to space, are able to reach one of their desired results.’

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