you even had the same response

BTS Reaction / Maknae Line - Coming home late/ Not spending time with you

Jimin

Whenever comeback season came around Jimin made sure everything was perfect from his singing to his dancing. He wanted to show the best of him to his fans which you adored him being so passionate about what he does but you knew he could take things a little too over broad. He could practice for hours not even stopping to eat or even for the sake of taking a break and this deeply worried you. He made it hard to even see him other than in the morning right before he left or late at night when he came home right before he fell asleep. That night when Jimin came home minutes to 2 in the morning and found you in bed assuming you were already asleep, but you weren’t, you couldn’t sleep, you were stressed about your relationship and how him coming home at this sort of time becoming a constant would affect it.  You two barely spent anytime together other than these moments few moments before sleep consumed your boyfriend. Thought after though was running through your mind, ‘Would things get better’, 'Would he loose interest in you?’, or 'Would he end things because you two never spent time together anymore’ It was overwhelming thinking about all the possibilities of where your relationship could end up, maybe you were just over thinking but you couldn’t help it. Letting one single tear escape and roll down your cheek you couldn’t hold back your sniffles, alerting Jimin that you were awake. He looked over at your curled up form on the bed and curiously made his way over to you, wondering why you where crying, he thought you were asleep.  Feeling the bed sink next to you and his soft hand tucking your hair gently behind your ear to get a proper look at your face, you open your now sore red eyes to look up at him, as soon as he saw your tear stained cheeks he quickly laid next you and embraced you in his arms pulling you into his chest. Rubbing your back trying to calm your slight sobs he questioned why you were crying.  It hurt him to see you like this and it hurt even more when you told him you were crying because of him. He had no idea you felt this way.

“Don’t worry babe, I’m going to make up for everything

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin


Taehyung

It really was annoying. You picked at your salmon salad, a blank look spread across your face, making your normally beautiful features seem dull. Eating all three meals of the day in stark silence, your cat’s slight meowing interrupting at widely spread intervals, was as annoying as you could remember. It felt as if you were right back to the days when you were single, only the emptiness eat you out even more because you knew you weren’t single anymore. You had been in a relationship for a year anf a half now. Your boyfriend was world renouned BTS member Taehyung, commonly known as V. You knew he was a busy man from the very beginning, and you were wary of it. He had barely managed to convince you to date him only after swearing he’d always try to find time so you too could be together. And he had, at least for the first year of your seemingly depreciating relationship. But as the weeks went by, you saw less and less of him, until you barely saw him when he came back home, if you were that lucky. You’ve been stuck by yourself for the last month, 6 texts messages maximum a day. You hardly saw him, much less held a face to face conversation even though you both lived in the same apartment. You missed him deeply. You missed his touch, his kiss, the way he’d rock you in his arms when he hugged you. It all seemed so foreign in your mind now, you could barely remember his scent.
You’d grown accustomed to being by yourself, when suddenly you heard the door opening. You slowly got up from your seat as you heard footsteps approaching. 'He’s home’ you thought monotonously, blankly staring at his advancing figure. 'Jagi, I’m home'  he had said, to no response, his answer was a vague stare, which sent a sinking feeling into his stomach. He resumed approaching hesitantly, trying to test your mood before he took you into his arms, expecting you to wrap yours around his waist. Only you didn’t. You stood as firm as a rock in his arms, not moving and inch. You could feel tears build up in your eyes, while he held you. Tears slipped from your eyes onto his chest, making him aware of the situation. An uncomfortable guilt seeped into his veins as he is grip strengthened onto your slightly shaking frame. Out of all his soothing words, only one sentence stuck with you. Only one sentence made you hold onto him with all of your strength.

“Jagi, I know I’m a month late but, I’m here, I won’t leave you like that again”

Jungkook

Although Jungkook was naturally good at what he did and he learnt new lyrics and dance moves pretty quickly he still made sure to put in a few extra hours of practice just because he wanted it to be perfect, he hated whenever he would make a mistake on stage even if it rarely ever happened. You respected him for this but you didn’t see why there was a need for him to take all this extra time even when his instructor told him his moves were perfect and there was no need for extra practice , it annoyed you sometimes when he would give up the opportunity to spend his free time with you to go practice more. In Jungkook’s mind he didn’t think him being away from you for this reason was affecting you as much as it was, he was oblivious to how you felt about this whole situation. You refrained from telling him thinking that you would give him the silent treatment to make him feel guilty but mainly to see if he would even recognize you being distant. And to your surprise he did, although Jungkook hardly still made time for you he was still fairly attentive. It was at night and you were in the kitchen cooking dinner for yourself figuring if he wanted something he could get it himself, when he came up behind you to give you a kiss on the side of your cheek. Reluctantly you pulled away, even if you didn’t want to because you missed his touch, you wanted to make him pay for ignoring your existence. His brows furrowing as he pulled away to eye your facial expression, it was unreadable, you kept a straight face trying to suppress how him being this close was affecting you. “What’s wrong y/n?” You didn’t answer as you continued stirring what was in the pan not giving into him and keeping up your charade. He turned you around so you were now facing him, your head down, as he asked again, worried that he had done something wrong, “Y/n is there something wrong, did I do something?” Eventually looking up at him, seeing lines form in his forehead and eyes filled your worry and what looked like sorrow you sighed to yourself knowing that you would eventually give in because you couldn’t help it when Jungkook gave you that look. You explained to him how you missed having him around and how him being at practice often and not finding time for you made you feel sad and a slight bit annoyed. His shoulders slumped as his face went from worried to sad with a slight regret realizing that he had not been spending as much time with you. He gently pulled you into a hug burying your face in his chest, kissing the top of your head as he promised to make time for you from now on. He didn’t realize how much he missed your touch and just the feeling of having you near him until now.

“We’ll spend the whole day together tomorrow doing whatever you want to do, just me and you”

Originally posted by nochuie

Dating Jeff Atkins Would Include
  • “princess” 
  • he treats you like a Queen, though
  • not understanding his baseball terms
  • but always trying to add them in a conversation to make a point
  • “Well it’s like you say, you have to swing the bat and knock it out, right?”
  • “Y/N, what does that have to do with what you want to eat for lunch?”
  • studying together
  • getting sidetracked
  • being close friends with Clay
  • “Clay and that Hannah girl are pretty cute.”
  • “Exactly my point! I have a whole plan on getting them together.”
  • cuddles
  • his head always in the crook of your neck
  • “babygirl”
  • him always showering you with gifts
  • telling him to stop spending his money on you
  • him continuing to do so anyway
  • he leaves you notes at your locker
  • “You look beautiful, Babygirl”
  • holding each other close
  • sleepovers
  • making pillow forts and eating Lunchables
  • “bon appetit, my love.”
  • “this is the most romantic dinner I’ve ever had.”
  • starting a movie
  • falling asleep on each other 15 minutes after it starts
  • you’re always talking pictures of him, it doesn’t matter what he’s doing at the moment
  • “Did you just take a picture of me rubbing my eye?”
  • baseball jokes
  • all the time
  • “Which baseball player holds water?”
  • “The pitcher.”
  • “The p-wait, how’d you know what I was going to say?”
  • “Jeff, you’ve told me that joke a thousand times.”
  • he’s always happy
  • which means you’re always happy
  • when you get mad at him you call him by his full name
  • “Jeffrey Atkins!”
  • him mocking you
  • “Y/N L/N!”
  • everyone telling you guys how cute you are
  • your dates consist of baseball games or just staying home
  • sending each other the ugliest pictures you guys could find
  • “this is you”
  • slow, passionate first time
  • wearing his shirts
  • him trying to wear your shirt one time as a joke
  • “Babe, it’s not coming off.”
  • “Karmas a bitch, isn’t it Atkins?”
  • helping him take off the shirt eventually
  • you had to cut it in half
  • “I don’t even know how you put that on.”
  • he’s annoying and you always remind him of it
  • “you’re annoying, you know that right?”
  • his response always being “it takes one to know one, L/N.”
  • his parents love you
  • “When is Y/N coming over again?”
  • “Mom, she literally just left.”
  • his lock screen is a picture of you shoving food into your mouth
  • “I didn’t even know you took this, change it!”
  • “No way, you look adorable.”
  • him feeling lucky to have you in his life
  • you feeling exactly the same way

Originally posted by knightlley

happy ending for everyone! 

{PART 18} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; The crowning moment arises when you and Jungkook arrive at the fundraising ball; but the storm clouds gather as you come face to face with your greatest fear.

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time) 

{Part 1} // {Part 17} {Part 18} {Part 19}

Keep reading

I think privilege of all types is best described as assuming that everyone has the ability to make the same choices that you made, and ignoring the fact that for some people those options don’t even exist.

“Why didn’t she just tell him no and push him away? As a man, I have the physical strength and inherent social respect from other men to expect to be safe at all times, I’m sure she would have gotten the exact same response as I would have if she had done what I would have done.”

“Why didn’t he just go to college? As a student in an affluent neighborhood, I had access to AP classes, extra-curriculars, and guidance counselors who helped me apply to schools, I’m sure he did, too.”

“Why didn’t he just comply with the police? He wouldn’t have been shot if he did everything right. As a white person, I’m given the benefit of the doubt by authority figures and not immediately pre-judged as a violent criminal because of my appearance, I’m sure those cops were afraid of him because he chose to be scary, not because of racism.”

“Why does she always take the elevator? It’s only one flight of stairs! As an able-bodied person, I’m capable of doing physical activities without fear of hurting myself or exacerbating health problems, and anyone who doesn’t have an immediately visible reason for doing less than I do must be lazy.”

You Understand, Right?

Characters: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader / Friend!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader / Friend!Reader, Bobby, John

Length: 1663+ words

TW: Suicide. Depression. Abandonment. Dean being a jerk. 

A/N: Another word vomit that I did when I couldn’t sleep last week. I just had the idea in my head for the whole night, and I knew if I didn’t write it down, I wouldn’t be able to remember it the next morning. So, here it is! Feedback is encouraged!

SERIES MASTERLIST


The thing about the Winchester family was that they collect family like one would collect dolls. They have a lot of family around the State, any of them willing to do anything for the brothers. They always had a saying. 

Family doesn’t end in blood.

Except it does. They can say it as many times as they want, but there isn’t anything they wouldn’t do for the family. Their blood family. 

You were 4 when you were collected by John, and shipped off to Bobby’s. You were basically raised alongside the brothers from then on. Sam being a year older than you, and his brother, Dean, being 5 years older than you.

You were 5 when Dean ran out of breakfast. Bobby, and John were gone on a hunt, leaving 10 year-old Dean in charge. There was half a single granola bar left, and he looked uneasily between you and Sam, both of you had complained about being hungry. He gave you a strange look, and even though you were 5, you knew what it meant. Afterall, John gave you the same look when he told you why you can’t come home to your parents. It was also the same look that Bobby gave you when you asked about your parents. The look of guilt. You turned away, not being able to handle the fact that his decision had already been made when he was 4, and the responsibility of Sam’s livelihood was thrusted into his hands.

“Not hungry,” you mumbled, despite your roaring stomach. Sam’s eyes lit up with glee as he snatched the snack from his brother’s hand, and you can see Dean’s face visibly relax.

“Sammy’s my responsibility. You understand, right?” Dean asked, a hopeful smile on his face.

You gave him a nod, hopping off the chair, and went back to your bed, hoping you can sleep away the hunger. 

Keep reading

Inner Vixen

Warnings: SMUT (Ages 18+)

 

Summary: You’re fed up with being the blushing, shy girl, usually too insecure to return any of Bucky’s flirtatious advances. But with a little help from liquid courage, your inner vixen makes an appearance.

 

Word Count: 3.6k

“Barnes. 6 o’clock.” Natasha whispered keeping her eyes focused on you standing right beside her at the bar. Tony’s latest rager had started approximately an hour ago and, though you would never admit to nervously awaiting his arrival, she noticed your eyes lingering on the entrance every now and again.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Wishing I was spending my afternoon cuddling with Peter and watching Disney movies in a pillow fort. Cute nicknames and maybe a make out session would be lovely, sorry if that's too much but thank you for taking the time to either do this or read it. 💙

a/n: you are soo sweet! im sorry if this wasn’t what you were expecting but I can’t even contact you bc anon but if you read this i really hope you like it

Originally posted by hamilll

Masterlist

You sighed deeply, he was late again. Your fingers ceased their tapping on the table, getting up before leaving to go to your room. You and Peter were supposed to go out for ice cream and a movie. Usually, you wouldn’t get upset or frustrated with him because you knew he had a lot going on in his life but this was the third time he has done this. You checked your phone, reading the last text message he sent you.

Be there in a few x

That was over two hours ago. You closed the door to your room, dropping your head against the door frame.

“Peter..” You mumbled in disappointment.

“Yes?” You jumped up, grabbing the nearest object before turning around and aiming at the person who scared you. Spider-man himself was standing in your room, both of his hands up in surrender. You watched as a muscled arm reached behind his head to pull the mask off. You watched as your boyfriend’s hair bounced slightly from his actions. You lowered your arms, waiting for him to say something.

“Were you really going to defend yourself with a lamp?” He attempted at a joke. You frowned further, setting the lamp back in it’s rightful place.

“Are you really going to start sassing me after having me wait two hours for you?” You crossed your arms, hip jutting out slightly. An eyebrow raised and a frown etched into your features you watched Peter fumble for words. You felt your shoulders slump a little.

“I’m sorry I was late. I was driving over here to come and pick you up for our date when I heard the sirens in a distance and gunshots and I know both you and Stark tell me to stay out of it and I really did want to, trust me Y/N I really wanted to but I just couldn’t bring myself to ignore people’s cries. i went to go text you but my phone died.” You watched as he reached for his phone in a pocket of his backpack. His fingers held down the power button before showing it to you. A picture of an empty battery popped on the screen for a few seconds before becoming pitch black again. You sighed, shaking your head.

“I don’t blame you for doing that Peter, and I know I shouldn’t be mad but-”

“You have every right to be mad at me. But I did stop at a few stores to make it up to you.” Peter motioned for you to sit at the foot of your bed. You contemplated your options. You didn’t want to be mad at him for helping other people but if he really wanted to be with you, he was going to have to make some sort of sacrifice. There are cops for a reason and you are pretty sure that they would have done their job. You don’t know if it was the exhaustion or the fact that he had a bruise by his cheek that you love to kiss so much but you decided to see what he had planned. He leaned over and kissed your forehead, whispering ‘thank you’. Whether he was thanking you for sitting down and giving him a chance or for not kicking him out would be left a mystery to you. He turned his attention to his backpack, ruffling the clothes and loose papers in there.

“Don’t you think that if someone sees Spider-man with the same backpack as you it wouldn’t raise some questions?” You asked, trying to see over his shoulder as he reached almost elbow deep into the backpack.

“No, a lot of people these days have black backpacks, if anything people can narrow it down to a high school student and even then it’s too broad.”

“Not every teen has a “Stark Industries” patch on theirs though…or a captain america patch either. I think it’s a little obvious.” You retorted. Peter finally found what he was looking for. He pulled out three things from the bag. Your eyes focused on the objects held in his hand. “The Tonight Dough” (your favorite Ben and Jerry’s ice cream flavor), with another flavor balanced on top, and in the other hand he had small stack of Disney movies. You smiled when you saw the ice cream, immediately going for a pint. You went to open the lid until you realised that there were no spoons. You were about to ask if he had brought any by any chance until your eyes landed on him. He had two spoons held in his mouth.

“Surprise.” He mumbled through them. You laughed a little, admiring how cute he was and how he never failed to make you smile. You grabbed the spoons from his mouth before rising to your knees, leaning over, and planting a kiss on his lips. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, scooting up the bed further. You heard a small thump on the floor before feeling his cold, glove-covered hand on your hips, indicating that he had probably dropped the other ice cream. His hand guided you over his lap, lips not daring to detach from yours. You moved your left hand to remove the movies from his hands before moving his hand to your hips. Peter leaned back until you were both lying on the bed. You swiped your tongue on the bottom of his lip, wanting to explore his mouth. His stomach rumbled, causing him to chuckle before pushing your head back with his lips and dropping his head back on the bed. You pouted a little, eyes glazing over his red and plump lips. He didn’t move either of you, using his web shooters to grab the other ice cream from the floor. You grabbed your mini tub and the spoons, handing Peter one.

“What movie do you want to watch?” He asked, grabbing a few of the movies. He shuffled through the movies, naming each one until you picked one.

“Didn’t we watch that last weekend?”

“Well we can watch it again. The Little Mermaid never gets too old, Parker. Besides you don’t know half the songs so you can’t say anything.” You got up from the bed, putting on the movie in while Peter plugged his phone in. Peter half-sat half-jumped on the bed before outstretching his arm. You grabbed your spoon and ice cream before snuggling up to his side.

Throughout the movie you and Peter continued to silently eat your ice cream, occasionally sharing with each other. You both had eventually finished the ice creams and opted to cuddle instead. You were slightly dozing off, missing some chunks of the movie at a time.

“You still up, babe?” You heard Peter mumble, the sleep evident in his voice.

“Mhm…” You replied, turning towards him. He had taken his suit off at some point during the night, finding some sweats and a t-shirt of his (which shouldn’t of been hard because you keep some of his spare clothes in your room in case anything happens where Spider-man is needed) before coming back to bed with you. You snuggled closer to him, wrapping an arm around his torso. You looked up at him, studying his features. Your eyes traveled to the same bruise you saw on his cheek earlier in the evening. You raised your hand up to his face, your fingers gingerly tracing the edges of it, scared that even the slightest pressure might cause him pain.

“Flash.” He breathed. Your eyes focused on his. He had dark circles under his eyes, his lips set into a frown and you weren’t sure if it was from his tiredness or from the memory of Flash.

“Peter you shouldn’t let him do that to you. You can defend yourself.” His gaze dropped from yours, only nodding in response. You stretched your neck slightly, pressing a gentle kiss on the bruise that had formed. He turned his head, pressing a kiss to your lips once more. He pulled you closer, before turning his head and reaching for the nightstand, turning the light off. You closed your eyes, resting your head on his chest. You listened to his heartbeat, finding it somewhat like a lullaby. His breathing was gentle, the light rocking of the rise and fall of his chest added a nice rhythm. You yawned, planting a kiss on his chest.

“Goodnight, I love you.” You whispered.

“I love you too.”

{PART 1} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; You drive to your boss‘s house with the intention of returning his wallet he left at the office. You feel uneasy, seeing his manor for the first time - Jungkook also feels uneasy, but for reasons that you could never begin to imagine.

A/N; This is the first instalment of a request I received that I decided to turn into a series that will contain smut. I’ll release a new chapter every Tuesday between 9pm-10pm (U.K Time), I hope you enjoy part 1 ^^

{Part 1} {Part 2}

Keep reading

splinter (m)

» pairing: jungkook x reader

» genre: angst, non-explicit smut / college au

» word count: 6,518

» description: Perhaps in their last moments together, the pieces won’t seem so broken. That maybe even with their jaded hearts they can salvage some replica of what it all once was. 

» note: there are mentions of cheating in this story

People love to talk about the ‘what ifs.’

What if they had just kept going, what if they had chosen a different path, what if things had just gone the way they had so desperately wanted them to? Humans torture themselves with these thoughts, all while urgently grappling at the threads of their memories that led to the fork in the road where things went awry. They ponder them tirelessly, wondering if they could’ve done something different, only to realize in the end that it didn’t matter because what was done was done. It was that simple, yet again, people still loved to talk, ponder, and torture themselves with the possibility of what if — However, in your personal experience, there was something much worse.

There was a sub-group of sorts to the what-ifs, called the ‘almosts.’ Almosts are burning flames of misery because they tease you by getting so heartbreakingly close to what you wanted. They were in your reach, resting on the tip of your tongue, only to dissipate before you could swallow it down and make it yours.

So yeah, you weren’t a fan of the-almosts. But what you were even less keen on was being in the same room as your almost, the thread of memories making the air thick as it wrapped its way around your throat.

Keep reading

The first time I tried to come out to someone I was ten years old and in primary school.
I told a person who was supposed to be one of my best friends. She listened.
The next day when I came to school she had told the twins; my other friends and they all laughed at me and avoided me for days on end. I knew there was something wrong with me then, see!?? So I told them I was just joking and of course I didn’t like girls that way, I’M NOT GAY!
The next time I tried, I told my cousin, my other best friend. She didn’t say a lot about it and just kind of changed the subject. The next time I saw her she asked me if I was being serious with a screwed up look on her face that hit me in the gut like disgust. I felt so sick, am I sick?! There is something so wrong with me. I told her no, of course I wasn’t, I’M NOT GAY, NO REALLY, DEFINITELY!
I started high school desperately trying to be cool, to be normal, to just fit in, why couldn’t I be like all of them? Every now and then someone in the halls would call me a fucking lesbian. It took me right back to those laughs that I heard when I was ten. I was still friends with the same girls who’s laugher haunted me and one night I slept over at their house. They had a brother who was a couple of years older and I thought I might have had a crush on him. It was juvenile wishful thinking. I ended up in his room with the door closed, in the darkness putting his dick in my mouth. After that I asked if I could go home because I was homesick - but I was just sick, I didn’t like anything about him or his dick. I felt so empty and so alone knowing that I was not normal, I was not like any of them. I sat in the bathtub with the door locked at 1am brushing my teeth and trying to erase the stain of what happened.
I came to school on Monday, and people were looking at me. They were talking behind hands and snickering. Someone had told someone and then someone told everyone and they all knew. My mind flew out the second story window in math as a girl passed me a note telling me I was gross and a fucking slut. If anything I thought it would shut them all up? Isn’t that what normal girls do, they like boys and they don’t leave their balls blue?! I had no idea what in the fuck I was supposed to do.
I drifted away from them all, I’d still see them in the halls but we hardly ever talked anymore. I found out that there were certain boys that stayed seperate from the jocks, and their flocks, so I started hanging out with them. They didn’t really care about much of anything and for once I felt a tiny bit of what I thought was belonging. Of course I engaged in ridiculous dating charades where I was one of their girlfriends. We’d occasionally kiss and hold hands and that was it, and I thought it might finally look like I fit. But I still heard it, from time to time “HEY DYKE, ARE YOU A LEMON OR A LIME?” I’d just put my head down and hide. I’d hide behind my boyfriend who was sweet and kind and dopey and gentle, even though most days he kind of drove me mental.
One day there was a new guy at school, I saw him before roll call in the hall and thought he looked cool. Later that day in science, he was sitting opposite me, and I smiled, he smiled back. We’re still friends and it’s about fourteen years down the track - how did we get to that? Well…
The next time I came out it was to him, and he told me he was the same as me. Of course I chose to come out under the label of bisexuality, because I still thought guys were kind of cute and it provided me with a shield of a certain safety and half normality. He didn’t flinch or cringe or look at me with hate, he just said he was the same, and my shame started to deflate a little. I started to breathe full breaths for the first time in so long, and I started to believe maybe I wasn’t so fucking wrong.
The next time I tried to come out to somebody I was sixteen and it was my mother. I’d spent years in torture and isolation trying to figure myself out, who I really was, what it was all about. I told her I was bi and she was quiet for a while. After I prompted her for a response she said “but how do you know?” with a condescending smile. She told me I was young, and that I hadn’t even slept with anyone so how could I possibly know what I am?? Rage is the only thing I could feel at that stage, HOW COULD I KNOW WHAT I AM? The same way you knew you weren’t what I am, that’s how. I’ve spent years hating myself for being this way, and this is the stupidity I’m faced with now? Like I had just flippantly decided that I would announce something I wasn’t even sure of? I was floored, and thus thereafter the topic was purposefully ignored. The silence said all I needed to know, this was something I just wasn’t supposed to show, it’s just one of those things that was a no go. Certain people could be trusted with my secret, the thing that people didn’t seem to want to see, but I had to be very careful about who that would be.
So I shut it down and compartmentalised my difference and tried to survive. Three years went by before I opened that door again, to a trusted friend. I never intended to tell her, but she asked me in a way that seemed so tender, there were no teeth waiting to bite me, and even though it frightened me I told her. She didn’t even care, she was just curious, maybe she was questioning things in herself like some of us do. That was the first time I really knew that I wasn’t my shame and I wasn’t my pain and I wasn’t some thing to be hidden away. I decided then to be more open. To live authentically and do what felt right for me. But I still remained private about it unless asked explicitly - then I would answer as honestly as I knew how, because truthfully I’m still figuring all of it out. I’ve learned so much about diversity and gender and sexual identity and sometimes I find the right words that seem to fit, and other times the pressure of a label exhausts me and I get sick of it.
Sick of trying to classify myself under certain banners, sick of people asking things without any thought of manners.
I know on the grand spectrum of things I am not at all like them, I fall somewhere else along the Kinsey scale. Maybe that means in a way I fail the people like me, because I can’t cement things or write it in concrete and sign it to make it complete. Or that sometimes I still find myself in certain situations where I’m being discreet, holding my candour for fear of ramifications and slander. Maybe I’m not full of pride, maybe because for so long all I could do was hide. This makes me feel so guilty, I should be proud of who I am unapologetically! Not just for me but for the sake of visibility, so that maybe more people can see - we aren’t wrong, we don’t have any agenda other than to be able to be! Just to be; to live with an open vulnerability and tranquility and to be able to do it safely!! I’m sorry, that I could not join in on the pride but maybe you’ll know why; it’s hard to celebrate something that for most of your life you’ve had to justify to people, to justify to yourself, for most of your life you’ve carefully withheld.
— 

“Internalised Homophobia - Where Is My Pride?”

Pride month is such a wonderful thing and I know it is over now but it inspired me to share this. It’s intensely personal, not very well written and lengthy, but I wanted to be able to share some of my experiences regarding this topic. In no way do I speak for the whole LGBT+ community in this post and it’s simply a personal journey that I wrote out for catharsis. 

5

Scott McCall x Reader x Stiles Stilinski 

Warnings: Slight sexual content, teasing, dom!reader, sub!Scott & sub!Stiles.
Word count: 819

A/N: Hands down and credit to the fantastic @pissheadofficial​​, for sharing a dirty mind like my own, coming up with the best imagines there is. There will be several more parts to this, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.


“Is Y/N like a supernatural dominatrix or something?” Allison muttered, earning a glance from Lydia before she also gave you a quick look. You were standing on the other side of the corridor, half outside of the classroom, talking to one of your teachers about the results of a test.

Lydia putted her books into the locker and shut the door after her. “No, she’s human.” Lydia snickered with a quirked eyebrow and Allison frowned before turning towards Lydia again.

Keep reading

Professor Turned Call Boy | Taeyong Smut

Can I have a call boy smut with Taeyong? He’s your professor in Uni and you’re stressed so you want someone to help with that 😏 You call and ask for the one under the name “Taeyong” not thinking it would be him despite the same name? You’re both surprised, but he found you a sexy student so he does so anyways (really rough, and daddy kink?) Please and thank you 😊😊


Character: Taeyong (NCT) / gender neutral reader (*ignore the fem in the gif, I swear this is gn*)
Word Count: 2989

Warning: well, smut of course. bad language, slight name calling, no condom, creampie, rough daddy kink, teacher/student kink, call boy?? can’t think of anything else :) enjoy!

Keep reading

trimax-na-boken  asked:

But WBC is real with actual documented incidents. What has a real SJW ever actually done besides make stupid people feel uncomfortable on the Internet

There is no such thing as “a real SJW”.  “Social justice warrior” was always a negative label from the beginning, created to designate those that are not representing social justice as it should be (kind of like how the term “weekend warrior” is used to describe someone who’s normally boring from Monday through Friday, but goes out of their way to indulge themselves irresponsibly on the weekends in an attempt to compensate).  Wearing that label unironically is like publicly proclaiming that you’re a bigot.  You’re utilizing the No True Scotsman logical fallacy here.  Also, the fact that you said “make stupid people uncomfortable on the internet” really doesn’t reflect well on you, especially when the majority of anti-SJWs are liberals, LGBTA people, minorities, etc. that are simply “uncomfortable” with how you’re poorly representing what we believe in.  The fact that there even is a divide between people that all desire equality just goes to show that someone is doing it wrong (hint: It’s not the anti-SJWs).  If anything, you’re just showing people exactly the kind of attitude that people hate about SJWs.  It’s the fanaticism.  It’s the extremism.  There are people who simply have faith in a higher power, and then there are people like WBC, who actively use that faith to try to harm others.  This is why they’re really the perfect analogy when discussing what SJWs are to activism.

In any case, are you sure you want me to answer this?  Because I don’t think you’re going to like what you see.

What has tumblr done, you ask?:

    Meanwhile, the sane people of tumblr mocked the shit out of them for intentionally kicking the hornet’s nest, and then whining when they got stung.

    Why?  Because 4chan contributed over $23k to it. 

    I’m sure all of this doesn’t even come CLOSE to what SJWs have done overall.  I could probably spend weeks finding all sorts of bullshit to put on here.  I openly invite others to add onto this, as I’m sure there’s a lot that’s been left out (@takashi0 might have a list on hand).

    This is why people are against “social justice warriors”.  They are NOT representing social justice.  They are NOT supporting equality.  They are only giving liberals, activists, women, minorities, and the LGBTA community a bad name.

    i. I used to hate you. I used to think it was your fault she ran away from me, but I guess I can never blame the sky if she didn’t want to be with the summer girl anymore and fell in love with rain instead. Maybe summer was too hot we scorched into ashes, and you were rain who cooled her down and made the ashes grow flowers again.
    ii. She told me once that she liked me the first time we met. I wonder, was it the same for you? Did your eyes captivate her the first time she looked at you? Or was it only after she left me? I keep on thinking it happened somewhere in between, like the unexpected drizzle in May, but it doesn’t matter anymore for now her skies are clear and your eyes are the only stars she can see. On some days I imagine us as identical stars and that it is the reason she fell for you fast, that your eyes show my reflection and it is still I she sees in you. Does she tell stories about me? Do you hear me when she says the words she learned from me? On most days, though, I know the truth–I’m only rock that briefly passed through her sky and she had mistaken me for a wishing star. But a rock cannot grant her wishes.
    iii. You are able to love her in many ways I will never be able to, and for that I envy you. I want to tell you how to love her, where she likes to be kissed or what spot in her back makes her weak, what gifts make her smile or what words would make her cry like a preschool girl–just like how many letters have been written by ex-lovers to the new ones instructing them how to love their lovers. I cannot do that, though. I wasn’t even able to love her properly when I had my chance, so who am I to tell you? Just keep on loving her the way you know how and most importantly, the way she deserves to be.
    iv. When I first heard the gossip about you, somehow I already knew. I had practiced my response and rehearsed my lines for the confirmation of the news, but when I saw you together for the first time I forgot everything I prepared for. I wasn’t ready to see how she looked at you–the same look she used to give me–and I knew, at that moment, she was already in love with you and there is nothing else that could stop her. I can still picture that moment until now.
    v. Please be “the one” for her. She used to tell her friends I was “the one” but it turned out I wasn’t. Please do not hurt her the way I did because if you do, I might never be able to forgive you just as I have never forgiven myself. I hope her skies never be heavy again.
    —  kabalintunaan // a letter for her lover, the rain
    painting the meadow’s void.

    pairing: jungkook x reader

    genre: fluff fluff fluff / soulmate au

    word count: 12,928

    description: Engraved in your skin, the time and date that you will meet the person that fate believes is perfect for you. Seven years since the marks rose from the depths of your souls, the two of you have been waiting and now the moment is finally here. But the date of your meeting just also happens to be on Christmas and unfortunately Jungkook has absolutely no idea what to get for someone who somehow already means so much to him, yet he still knows so little about. 

    request: soulmate timer au

    note: this is incredibly cheesy, forgive me lol. also this is part of the seven days of christmas collaboration!

    December 24th 10:52

    Jungkook’s dreams are filled with starry skies. The black expanse painted with twinkling lights and a crescent moon finish. Lying on his back, the blades of grass falling between the spaces of his fingers. Everything feels so calm, a light breeze mixing with the coldness of the air around him. This is perfect, he thinks to himself. But then suddenly the gentle graze of something settles its way onto the palm of his hand and he thinks to himself — no, this is perfect.

    The grip of his hand tightens around the soft and delicate skin of your wrist. He runs his thumb along the top of your knuckles as he tries to memorize the ridges of his self-conjured image of your being. It induces goosebumps along his entire body. Just from your touch alone, and in a dream no less, he is still so affected. A deep inhale enters his lungs before he turns to look at you lying next to him in the grassy meadow of his dreams. The edges of his vision are blurry and he can’t make out your face, but it doesn’t matter to him because this is perfect — you are perfect.

    He wants to move closer. He wants to hold you in his arms, and he is so close to making this a reality, even if it is in his dreams, but then—

    Keep reading

    Daddy’s Little Girl

    Title: Daddy’s Little Girl

    Characters: Negan x You/Reader

    Synopsis: You used to be a nude cam model. Negan was your favorite customer. What are the chances that you’d see him again now that the dead’s taken over the world?

    Warnings: NSFW, smut, daddy kink lol

    Note: This got me back on track yay. Not sure if there will be a part 2 to this…yay or nay? ;)

    Again, italicized parts are flashbacks.

    You clicked your tongue in irritation when your captor started pushing you into the premises of the compound you’ve been spying on. He snickered at you when you glowered at him, “Got a problem, sugar?” he sneered as he shoved you forward again.

    “You tied my hands but not my feet. Point is, I can walk on my own. No need to keep on pushing me.” You hissed and started walking ahead of him only to be pulled back.

    “Nice try, bitch.” He mocked and placed a hand on your upper back to push you again.

    Keep reading

    anonymous asked:

    I imagine that Gaston actually had some really fucked up experiences from the war. And maybe when he finally finds someone he is able to open up about how joining the war actually really messed him up and made him violent and aggressive.

    TBQH, this is one of my headcanons too and like. How dare you make me feel this way right now i feel attacked.

    Originally posted by luuuuuke-evans

    • Coming back from the War probably left parts of his personality and some segments of his emotions raw and torn down. While serving, he used opportunities of violence and women to help that.
    • But now, certain situations leave him defenseless, emotions seem to far out of hand at times so he created the perfect persona to show others so he doesn’t have to come to terms with what happened while he was fighting.
        • Something leaves him so out of focus, and he acts out in emotional and physical ways to fill a hole that was left behind. Narcissism and women are his usual ways.
          • Of course, he was full of himself before hand but not as badly. It was typical for men to be cocky, but after returning from the War, it seemed to escalate so he could fill in the need for his emotional and physical wants that were left unfulfilled.
            • Because of this, he’s found it hard to connect with someone and so he tends to use women as an outlet. He’s aware of what he does, of course, because there’s always going to be a part of him that wants to settle down with a small family. His own wife and children. A simple life.
               
    • After meeting you, he starts heavily contemplating whether he wants to tell you or if he just wants things to be left as they are.
      • It’s just a matter about opening up and letting you know who he really is. Gaston, for probably the second time in his life, is fearful of what the outcome of a situation holds from him. Because now that he’s developed feelings for you, he’s afraid that if he tells you who he truly is, you’re going to leave.
      • It’s a constant battle inside of his mind. One part wants to leave things as are because it would be the easiest but the other part of him wants to tell you because he finally realized that letting you in has helped him feel normal and grounded again. It makes him feel like he’s at war again, only with himself.
        • It’s sort of interesting because he refuses to admit that he’s truly and severely in love with you and he keeps playing it off and keeps telling himself that it’s just the sex. (Like, wow typical Gaston).
          • But after seeing you for over three months, and in a rather consistent way, it finally dawns upon himself that he does love you or at the very least, he cares for you. After all, the longest he had ever spent with the same woman before had only lasted two weeks, maybe even less if he really focused on it.
    • The dude probably just balls up and tells you straight out what happened, totally expecting the worst response from you as a result. Gaston hangs his head, almost ready to say, “If you want to leave me, now would be the best time. I don’t deserve you. I never have and I never will.”
      • Literally looks like someone kicked him in the face, he’s about to cry?
        • Brushing back some of the stray hairs in his face, he glances up at you and catches your gaze. You allow him no opportunity to speak and you say, “The War left all of us a little different…” Licking his bottom lip, he nods in agreement, “I’m not going to stop loving you because you think you don’t deserve it, Gaston… I saw under the facade, and fell in love with you. I’m not going to leave you…”
    • Gaston in love, okay? Just like, melts my heart.
      •  Binch, him like so devoted to you that he buys you flowers just because(not because he wants you to owe him something).
        • Gaston like, picking you up bridal style because there’s a really big puddle and he doesn’t want your feet to get wet so he carries you across it.
        • Gaston letting you braid his hair in private while the two of you watch the sun set. Bonus points if you tangle flowers into his hair.
        • Lends you his jacket if it’s chilly outside and you didn’t bring one of yourself. 
        • Him taking you on his horse to see the countryside. Just the two of you. You don’t even need to be talking. Silence and being alone with you is enough.
        • Going from the transition of sex to the swing of just enjoying one another’s company. Cuddles, just kissing, talking to one another in privacy. 
        • He probably sings to you. Not the showy off kind of singing, but the beautiful ‘I adore you’ sort of singing. Usually in the morning time. His voice husky, his body still half asleep. Usually a little tune he can remember from childhood. He tucks your hair back, kisses your forehead and the two of you just lay like that until you’re actually ready to get up.
        • Him talking to you about getting married and having children of your own. Tells you like, in a really detailed way as if he had been planning it since childhood. How many kids he wants, how he wants to live somewhere peaceful with you and them. 

    i have a lot more headcanons but i needed to stop myself LOL. Thanks for reading! Reblogs and likes are appreciated!

    It’s not that he doesn’t love Lydia. Of course he loves Lydia. He’s always loved her; been infatuated with her; fascinated with the idea of her. That never really went away. It just changed; grew deeper and more complex with everything that they had experienced.

    It’s just that after she drives him to college and leaves him with a lingering kiss and a promise that she’d see him soon, things feel different.

    So much has happened since that night he dragged Scott into the woods to look for the body of Laura Hale. So much has happened that he doesn’t really feel like he fits into his own life. He tries to ignore it; to pretend that everything is okay; but after the Ghost Riders, he realises he can’t pretend anymore.

    It might be the fact that he was stuck waiting in the train station with Peter Hale but he’s been thinking about Derek. He’s been thinking about Derek a lot, thinking that if anyone understands what it’s like to feel like you don’t fit into your own life, it would be Derek.

    One night, after a few too many beers, he texts Derek. He doesn’t expect a response, sure that Derek has changed his number many, many times since he left Beacon Hills without so much as a goodbye. Hell, who knows if Derek even has a phone anymore? It’s not like he was good at texting even when he had some semblance of a pack, of people that maybe, sort of cared about him.

    I don’t feel like I’m me anymore. Feels like I’m trying really hard to be the same but it just seems hollow.

    He doesn’t get a response but it doesn’t really bother him. He wasn’t expecting one anyway. He’s stopped expecting things from people. He’s stopped expecting a lot of things. That voice in the back of his head tells him that he stopped expecting things from Derek when he left without saying goodbye, like hours in a pool meant absolutely nothing, like Stiles meant absolutely nothing.

    So yeah, he wasn’t expecting a reply. He just wanted to say the words.




    After that, it kind of becomes a thing.

    It doesn’t happen all the time. During the day, Stiles manages just fine. He has classes and assignments and even a couple of tentative friends who he’ll grab a coffee with every now and then.

    It’s a different story at night though. He tosses and turns for hours, terrified that if he falls asleep, he’ll disappear again and that no one will bring him back. Those endless days in the train station plague his thoughts and he just can’t seem to escape them. It feels like he’s running through those tunnels again, only to end up exactly where he started.

    So he tells Derek everything. He pours out the whole story, explains the terror he felt when he knew that he would be taken; when people looked him dead in the eye and had no idea who he was. He explains the frustration he felt when Peter was the only one he could rely on; the bitter disappointment when Peter left and he was all alone. He tells Derek everything and it feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, just screaming into the empty nothingness. The words are out there and even if Derek never replies, it’s better to have written them than to have done nothing. It’s ever so slightly relieved the feeling of slowly choking on the terror.

    He ends his text message like this: sometimes I think I’ll disappear again and no one will come looking.

    And then his phone beeps.

    I would.

    That’s it. Two words and Stiles feels like he can breathe again. Someone would come looking for him.

    It’s not like those two words opened a floodgate of communication but Derek does occasionally reply.

    When I do sleep, I see Allison dying. I wonder if Scott blames me. I blame me.

    If I had been a better Alpha, Erica and Boyd would have stayed. No one blamed me for that, just like no one blames you for Allison.

    Do you think I’ll ever stop blaming myself?

    I’m not the right person to ask about blame.

     



    Found handcuffs in my roommate’s closet. Think he uses them for community safety on full moons or he’s just really into 50 Shades of Grey?

    Stiles, it’s far more likely that your roommate is an aspiring Mr. Grey than a werewolf. Put them back where you found them. It’s rude to snoop.

    Omfg I can’t believe you know what 50 Shades of Grey is!

    Everyone knows what 50 Shades of Grey is.

    You aren’t everyone though! I didn’t know that you read books. Or watched movies. Or had any knowledge of pop culture.

    Derek doesn’t text back. Instead, he gets sent a photo of a bookshelf. It’s so full that Stiles is genuinely impressed; it doesn’t look like even one more title could be added to that collection. He doesn’t know why but he finds himself feeling kind of sad that he didn’t know this about Derek whilst he was living in Beacon Hills. Stiles tries not to dwell on the feeling but he knows himself well enough to know that he’s feeling guilty.

    He knows what it’s like to wonder if anyone would care enough to come looking if he disappeared. He imagines that’s how Derek felt after his family died and Stiles didn’t do anything to make him think otherwise.  

    He doesn’t text back.



    It’s the night of the full moon and Stiles feels strange, like something is missing. He was invited to a party or two but declined, pretending that he had an assignment he really needed to finish. He’s weeks ahead of his course work but he doesn’t want to go out tonight. He knows his friends back in Beacon Hills are going to be okay without him; knows that it’s a good thing that he hasn’t heard from them; but it stings a little.

    He doesn’t like feeling so replaceable.

    He sends Lydia a text message, asking how everything is going. He doesn’t want them to be in danger; doesn’t want them to struggle without him; but it would be nice if they noticed his absence. He’s hoping that Lydia will tell him that they’re okay but that they miss him.

    She doesn’t reply straight away and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

    He can see the moon out of his dorm room window. He snaps a picture and sends it to Derek without thinking. Never thought I’d miss chaining Scott to a radiator, he captions the photo. He thinks he means for it to be a joke but even to his own eyes, the words seem flat on his screen. He sends them anyway. It’s not like he’s been censoring himself recently, not around Derek anyway.

    On my first full moon alone, I howled at the moon, hoping that someone would answer. It’s lonely without pack.

    I’m not really pack though, he responds. It’s easier than acknowledging the fact that Derek’s family burned to death in their family home; that crazy Uncle Peter tore his sister into pieces; that his only remaining family are either certifiably insane or residing with a pack in South America.

    It’s okay to miss being needed.

    I don’t know if they ever really needed me.

    Derek texts back a photo of a pool.

    A quick internet search confirms that it’s just a stock photo from Google but his heart races anyway. He remembers diving into the pool and holding Derek afloat; how terrified he had been that they would both drown; that his dad would find his body and drink himself into an early grave.

    He hadn’t cared about Derek then, not really, not the way he cared about him now. He had held Derek afloat because it was the right thing to do and because he was selfish. He knew that if he and his friends had any chance of surviving this, they would need Derek.

    Near death experiences don’t count as being needed.

    This time Derek is the one who doesn’t reply. It’s fair enough, really. Stiles wouldn’t really know what to say to that either.



    When he wakes up in the morning, he has three unread messages.

    Lydia tells him that all is well in Beacon Hills and tells him to check his email because she’s edited his latest essay. He tells Lydia thanks and tries to ignore the flicker of disappointment in his chest.

    It counts as being needed. You weren’t just kept around because you were better than nothing. You’re an asset, Stiles. You’re smart, yet somehow stupid enough to throw yourself into danger without thinking twice. Underneath that unrelenting sarcasm and attitude, you care a hell of a lot. If it wasn’t for Scott, his attitude towards me and some of his questionable decisions, I’d have asked you to join my pack.

    A second message, sent about an hour later, reads tell anyone and I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth.

    He can’t help but laugh.



    Lydia asks Stiles if he’s coming back to Beacon Hills for break. It had always been his plan to spend break at home, to fall back into things like he had never really left. He goes to reply, to tell Lydia that he’ll leave after his last classon Thursday, but he finds himself lying.

    Sorry Lydia, totally broke. Can’t afford flights and I don’t think the Jeep would survive the drive. Maybe you could come here instead?

    I can’t. It’s all hands on deck here.

    She doesn’t elaborate. More noticeably, she doesn’t offer any financial assistance. Whilst he would turn it down, the Martins are one of the richest families in Beacon Hills and Lydia is generous with her money. If she cares about someone, she shows it with material gestures. He hasn’t seen Lydia in months; since she drove up to college with him. Shouldn’t she want to see him? Shouldn’t he be moving mountains to see her? This is Lydia, after all. He’s been in love with her for as long as he can remember.

    All he knows is that something doesn’t feel right here. There’s a gentle hum of disappointment under his skin but when he examines it, he finds that it seems to be related to the fact that he didn’t know Beacon Hills was facing another threat. It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the fact that he’s not going to be seeing Lydia this break. He doesn’t know much about relationships but he knows that she’s supposed to offer and he’s supposed to care.

    His fingers hover uncertainly over his phone, not quite sure what to say. He can’t actually remember the last time he properly spoke to Lydia. They text a few times a week, when he has time between class and she’s not busy with pack business. He scrolls back through the conversation and he’s struck by how superficial it seems. He can’t even remember the last time that they spoke on the phone. They agreed to have weekly Face Time calls but after their plans fell through three times in a row, they stopped making arrangements.

    In the end, he sends back a simple good luck. He needs more time to analyse before he says anything more.



    He manages to fall asleep before 3am, which is no small feat these days. He dreams of his mum, of her body on the kitchen floor and his tears marking her face as he cries down the phone, begging for an ambulance. He dreams of her body on a cool metal table in the morgue, of his father having to identify the body because his mum was sick and Stiles couldn’t get the ambulance quick enough to save her.

    He dreams of Peter offering him the bite but this time he accepts it, sick and tired of being the weak, defenseless human. He can feel the pain, can feel fire coursing through his veins, and he knows that the bite isn’t taking. He isn’t strong enough to survive the bite so he’s going to die, all alone on the cold, hard concrete.

    He dreams of the pool, of Derek growing heavier and heavier. “It’s okay”, Derek whispers, as Stiles has no choice but to let go. He watches Derek’s paralysed body sinking to the bottom of the pool, his lungs burning as they fill with water, and he cannot do anything.

    He sees Erica standing on his front porch, smiling at him. He relaxes. Maybe this is a nice dream. Erica is alive and happy, which is how things should be. He tentatively smiles back, lifts a hand in greeting. Her smile grows wider, showing bloody teeth, and he reels back. Blood keeps dripping, gushing out of her mouth, until she keels over on his welcome mat. He doubles over and vomits on his front lawn.

    He dreams of Gerard. He manages to get free, trips as he tries to run up the stairs and escape the basement. Gerald just laughs as he slowly walks up the stairs and takes hold of his leg. He screams as Gerard drags him back down the stairs, knowing exactly what fate awaits him there.

    He dreams of motel car parks and road flares, of Scott going up in flames because Stiles isn’t enough to save him; because Stiles has never been enough. He says all the right words but Scott just scoffs and tells him that he wishes he had never met him, that his life would have been so much better without Stiles, that it was Stiles’ fault they were in the woods that night. Scott tells him that everything has always been his fault, then drops the road flare and the whole car park burns a fierce red.

    He dreams of the Nogitsune, of the darkness. He pushes the blade into Allison’s stomach, hears Lydia’s screams reverberating off the tunnel walls. He wants to take it back, to do something, to save the girl his best friend loved; to save the girl he once considered a friend. He can’t do anything though; he’s not strong enough to fight the darkness.

    He dreams of the Ghost Riders, of endless days and nights waiting for someone to remember him, of thinking that maybe it would be better for everyone if he didn’t come back. Easier, maybe. He dreams that he comes back and his dad’s face contorts into something unrecognisable, twisted by anger and grief; the regret of choosing to remember his son at the cost of losing his wife all over again.

    He awakes suddenly, covered in sweat and gasping for air. He doesn’t think, just grabs his phone and dials the only person he thinks will understand.


    It doesn’t matter that it’s nearly 4am. Derek answers the phone after the second ring and god, Stiles has missed his voice. He didn’t realise just how much until he hears it again.

    “Stiles?”

    Months ago, Derek texted I would and Stiles felt like he could breathe again. Now, Derek has said his name and he feels grounded again, like his feet are back on the ground.

    “Bad dream”, he answers. “Sorry for waking you”. He knows Derek wasn’t asleep but it’s the polite thing to say.

    Derek doesn’t say anything. Years ago, back when they first met, Stiles interpreted the silence as frustration, like Derek was purposely not fulfilling his role in the conversation so that Stiles would get the hint and shut up. After a while, Stiles started to think that Derek was silent because he was socially awkward and just didn’t really know how to participate in a conversation. After all, he had been alone for a long time.

    Derek’s silence seems different now, though, like he’s giving Stiles a chance to process his thoughts and decide where he needs to begin.

    “Why did you leave without saying goodbye?” he asks, acknowledging for the first time that he was bothered by it.

    “I didn’t think anyone would really care”, Derek says, like it’s that simple. In Derek’s eyes, it probably was that simple.

    “I did”. He pauses and the silence stretches between them for a few more seconds as Derek allows Stiles to collect his thoughts. “I was the one who realised you were gone. I went to the loft after school and the place was empty. I don’t have werewolf senses so I couldn’t just track you down… I drove around for hours looking for you. I was fucking terrified that you had been taken by someone or something but then I found Peter at that stupid abandoned train cart you used to live in. He told me that you had gone and that you didn’t want to be found. That fucking stung, by the way. You said goodbye to Peter but not to me”.

    “He’s family”. Again, his words are spoken like it’s just that simple.

    “Blood isn’t always thicker than water, Derek! Peter is a fucking lunatic, alright? He killed Laura! That’s unforgivable! I know I’m just some stupid, spastic teenager and that you’d happily rip my throat out with your teeth if it wouldn’t stain your upholstery but I deserved a fucking goodbye”.

    It’s not until he says the words aloud that he realises how angry he is. He cares about Derek. He has done for a long time now. He trusts Derek in a way that he doesn’t trust anyone else and that’s not a recent thing. The reason he feels comfortable enough texting Derek all his deepest, darkest thoughts isn’t just because he thinks Derek will understand. It’s because he trusts Derek. Quiet, angry, hurting Derek who proved himself time and time again; who proved that despite all his faults, he would show up when it counted; would save and protect Stiles no matter what. He thought that maybe, just maybe, Derek trusted him too; that maybe Derek cared just a little bit; but then he left without so much as a goodbye or a forwarding address.

    Stiles doesn’t know what else to say so he hangs up.

    I should have said goodbye.

    I wanted to but I wasn’t sure you would care.

    Actually, that’s a lie. I think I knew that you, out of all people, would understand why I was leaving. I think I was just trying to avoid an honest conversation that I wasn’t ready for.

    I’m sorry.

    Thank you.



    He doesn’t text Derek for about a week. He tells himself that it’s because he needs to invest more time into his studies and into his relationship with Lydia but he knows that’s a lie borne out of self-preservation.

    In all honesty, he’s scared.

    He hasn’t been scared of Derek for a long time. He’s been scared for Derek and whilst around Derek, both of which are common feelings considering Derek seems to have an annoyingly persistent habit of getting into life threatening danger.

    He’s scared now though because Derek can be awfully perceptive when he wants to be. Derek also happens to understand him more than most other people these days, which is why Stiles has been messaging him in the first place. If Derek was really listening – and Stiles thinks that he was – then he’s revealed just a little bit too much about his feelings.

    Stiles has always found Derek attractive. Even when Derek was threatening to rip his throat out or pushing his head into a steering wheel, he’s been very aware that Derek is more attractive than most people in Beacon Hills combined. Stiles has eyes after all. He’s sure that Derek is aware of it; that he’s smelt the arousal that seems to follow Stiles everywhere he goes, particularly where Derek is involved. Derek, to his credit, has politely ignored the attraction rather than acknowledging it and causing never ending humiliation.

    Somewhere along the way, things shifted. The more time Stiles spent around Derek, the more he realised that Derek wasn’t just a pretty face. He had been through hell and somehow still survived but it was more than that. Weaker men would have crumbled if they had gone through half as much pain as Derek but he came through it all and somehow, he still cared about people. He turned Isaac, Erica and Boyd because he was lonely but also because he thought he was giving them a better life. He showed up, time and time again, even when he didn’t have to. Even though he said that he didn’t, he knew that Derek trusted him. Derek’s actions spoke far louder than his words and somewhere along the way, Stiles had proven himself to Derek. The threats and the violence had been replaced with an understanding that they had each other’s backs.

    When he went to Derek’s apartment and found it empty, he had realised. Things had just clicked into place and he knew that his physical attraction to Derek had grown into something deeper and stronger. It was a secret that Stiles had intended to take to his grave. He had shoved it into the far corners of his mind and pretended that he wasn’t bothered by Derek’s absence; he had dated Malia and then Lydia and acted like everything was fine.

    He had never talked about it so when those words tumbled out of his mouth, the anger and the frustration and the hurt feelings were still so fresh. Derek is smart enough to put the pieces together and realise that there’s something more there, at least on Stiles’ end.

    So yeah, he’s scared. He’s not scared that Derek won’t reciprocate his feelings because he already knows that Derek doesn’t feel the same. He’s terrified that he’ll lose Derek completely and he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to handle it.

    It’s pathetic but he’s felt more human over the last few months than he has since Derek left. He isn’t ready to lose that.





    He and Lydia break up during the week that he’s ignoring Derek.

    They manage to have a Face Time conversation and about three minutes in, she tells him he looks like complete crap. He tells her that he’s struggling with the distance, that after everything, he just isn’t ready to come back to Beacon Hills and she’s far too valuable to travel to him and leave the town unprotected.

    Lydia doesn’t even look surprised and she’s polite enough not to call him on his bullshit.

    “It’s better that we end it now. I’ve received an early acceptance to the University of Cambridge so in the near future, we’ll be on different continents”, she says in agreement.

    There’s a lot left unsaid. They’re both aware that Stiles is no longer the same person he was in third grade, when he decided that he was going to be in love with Lydia Martin forever. They’ve both lost people and gone through more trauma than most people see in a lifetime. Rather than growing together, they grew apart. Stiles knows that a lot of the responsibility for that rests on his shoulders; that he should have worked through his issues with Lydia, that he should have trusted her with the burden he was carrying.

    He was just so in love with the idea of Lydia; so desperate to have the perfect relationship that he had been dreaming of for years that he refused to share his darkness out of fear that it would taint everything.

    He ignores the voice telling him that Derek Hale has already seen him at his worst and seems to tolerate him regardless.




    For someone who once thought that Lydia Martin shined brighter than the sun, he’s remarkably okay with their breakup.

    Scott texts him for the first time in weeks, a simple

    heard the news. Hope you’re okay.

    He replies with a smiley face. He doesn’t think there’s much else to say. He and Scott will always be brothers but they’re living different lives now.

    After a particularly sleepless night, he texts Derek. He figures that if Derek was going to make a scene over Stiles’ little crush, he would have done it already.

    Would your arm have grown back?

    Do you think about that a lot?

    I’ve done a lot of research and can’t seem to find the answer.                       

    We aren’t related to starfish. I’m 99% sure I’d have ended up with a stump.



    He gets to know Derek a lot better over text.

    Breaking Bad or Walking Dead?

    Is that even a question, bitch?

    Summer or winter?

    Winter. I remember learning how to snowboard when I was younger. My family had a lodge.

    Favourite Harry Potter character?

    George Weasley or Sirius Black. Ten minutes later, his iPhone indicates that Derek is still typing a message. It’s worth the wait when Derek practically sends an essay about why he likes each character. That leads to a three hour phone call about why Severus Snape is a bad person. Stiles falls asleep while Derek is ranting about the scene in the movie where Severus steps over James Potter’s dead body to see Lily.

    The fact that Derek’s a secret Harry Potter fanatic makes him way happier than he should be.



    Late at night, their text messages grow more serious.

    Worst relationship?

    I don’t think I’ve had any truly terrible relationships. I haven’t really been heartbroken or betrayed. I think I’ve been a bad boyfriend though. Both Lydia and Malia deserve better.

    You weren’t heartbroken over Lydia?

    Not really. I was more in love with the idea of her.

    That’s how I feel about Kate.

    He doesn’t reply; chooses to call Derek instead. It’s 2am and for the first time ever, Derek tells another person what happened with Kate Argent. Stiles had put most of the pieces together a long time ago but hearing Derek tell the story is the most horrific thing Stiles has ever heard. The police reports had noted that Derek, Laura and Peter were the only survivors; that Derek’s mother and father, his grandmother, three younger siblings, and four cousins of various ages had all perished in the fire.

    Derek’s voice doesn’t waver as he tells Stiles that Kate had seduced him; that he had told Kate all about his family; that he had mentioned a family gathering that he wanted her to attend. He tells Stiles that he came home from lacrosse practice to see his family home burning to the ground.

    Stiles only utters four words that night but repeats them like a mantra until Derek’s breathing evens out and he drifts off to sleep.

    It wasn’t your fault.



    Did you love Jennifer?

    No. I think I could have in time but we both know how that ended.

    Why did you believe me when I told you she was evil?

    Because it’s you. You’re one of the only people that hasn’t lied to me. That earned you a little bit of faith.

    Did you love Brayden?

    No. I think I wanted to show the world that I had survived Kate and Jennifer and didn’t have any emotional wounds. I think most people would call that a rebound relationship.

    Do you think you could fall in love again?

    Stiles waits for an excruciating seven minutes before Derek replies.

    Yes.

     



    I tried to tell my dad that I was bisexual once. I think he thought I was joking.

    I never got to tell any of my family that I’m bisexual. After the fire, Laura and I moved to New York. I wanted to tell her but I couldn’t find the words. I couldn’t find the words about Kate either. I like to think that she knew anyway and loved me regardless.

    I’m sorry I accused you of her murder. That was really fucked up.


    I was never really going to rip out your throat with my teeth.

    I know.

    It was easier to just be angrier all the time. Anger is easier to manage than grief.

    Was easier? Are you not angry anymore?

    I’m still angry but it’s not the only thing I feel anymore. These messages help. So does therapy.

    Derek Hale in therapy? I never thought I’d see the day! In all seriousness, I’ve thought about therapy a lot. I went after my mum died and it helped a little bit. I just don’t know where I’d find a therapist who knows about the supernatural.

    Derek texts him a phone number for a counsellor about fifteen minutes off campus. He doesn’t ask Derek how he knew what college he was at.



    Peter offered me the bite once.

    I didn’t know. I’m glad you didn’t take it?

    Because I’d be a terrible werewolf?

    Because no one should be connected to Peter in that way. I think you’d make an excellent werewolf. Far better than Scott.

     



    Have you seen the latest episode of Game of Thrones?

    He calls Derek and they talk for hours. He almost hangs up the phone when Derek tells him that he doesn’t understand the appeal of Jon Snow but he likes the sound of Derek’s voice far too much.



    On April 8th, he gets sent a photo of a cheesy card wishing him many happy returns.

    Happy 18th birthday, Stiles.

    He sends Derek a photo of his face with his widest grin. He didn’t even know that Derek knew his birthday.

    When’s your birthday?

    11th July.

    And how old are you going to be? I vaguely remember starting at Beacon Hills high as you were getting to graduate but then when we saw you in the woods, you looked like you were 80.

    I’m only four years older than you, Stiles. I’ll be turning 22 but I haven’t celebrated in years.

    But if someone wanted to hypothetically post you a card and a present, where would they send it?

    Derek sends him an address in New York City. Stiles doesn’t need to ask; he instinctively knows that this is the apartment that Derek and Laura lived in before her death.



    Do you think you’ll ever go back to Beacon Hills?

    Not unless it’s an emergency. I was supposed to go back with Laura when we heard about the killings in our territory but I told her that I wasn’t ready. I made her go alone.

    It wasn’t your fault.



    Stiles can’t sleep. He Face Times Derek and pesters him until he finally agrees to start watching Parks and Recreation.

    Stiles has the same episode playing on his laptop but he finds himself paying more attention to Derek’s face than the episode. He’s never seen Derek laugh before and the sight of him chuckling is mesmerizing.

    It becomes a regular thing. Derek watches something on Netflix; Stiles watches Derek.



    I hope you fall in love with someone who loves you as much as I do.

    Stiles should not be allowed access to his phone while under the influence of alcohol. He texts Derek that exact sentiment the next morning but Derek doesn’t respond.



    He doesn’t hear from Derek again.



    I’m really sorry, Derek.

    I shouldn’t have made things awkward between us.

    Your friendship is more than enough, I swear. I’m not going to push for something that you don’t want.

     



    None of his messages elicit a reply and god, it hurts like a fucking bitch. He thinks he finally knows what it’s like to have a broken heart.


    He receives a text from Lydia.

    A little bird told me that Derek Hale is currently moping in New York City.

    Peter?

    Cora.

    I didn’t realise you were in contact with Cora. Hell, I didn’t realise that Cora was in contact with Derek.

    Of course I’m in contact with Cora. She’s a useful contact. As for her contact with Derek, that’s only a recent development. Their pack bond still exists in some form; she reached out when she realised that something didn’t feel right.

    What am I supposed to do about Derek moping? It’s kind of his thing.

    Check your email.

    There’s an email from Lydia. It’s a forward from a travel agent, confirming that a flight for a Mr. M. Stilinski has been booked for this Saturday.

    He doesn’t know what to say. It turns out he was right about Lydia Martin – when she cares about someone, she shows it in materialistic gestures. This might be the greatest gesture that she’s ever done.



    Stiles can barely sit still during the flight to New York City. He’s terrified that Derek will slam the door in his face but he knows that if he doesn’t try, he’ll regret it.

    The cab ride to Derek’s apartment takes an eternity. He almost forgets to grab his bag in his rush to get out of the cab and forces himself to take a deep breath; to slow down just a little.

    He mentions to get into the building without buzzing, darting through an open door as one of the tenants leave the building. Before he got on the flight, Lydia had texted him the apartment number, and his hands shake as he knocks on the door.

    “Stiles?” Derek’s voice sounds even better in person. “What are you doing here?”

    “You didn’t reply to my texts”, he says like it’s just that simple. In his eyes, it is.

    It seems like it might be just that simple to Derek too because he grabs him and pulls him close. Before Stiles can protest about being manhandled, Derek’s lips are against his and the words die on his tongue.



    “Why didn’t you reply?” he asks a few hours later. He and Derek had eventually made it to the bedroom and it was everything Stiles had imagined and more. It was worth forgoing the conversation but Stiles couldn’t ignore the obvious for much longer.

    “I panicked. Over text, it was easy. I could say whatever I wanted and not worry about the repercussions. The thought of it becoming something more was terrifying, Stiles. You know my relationship history”.

    “And you know that I’m not like any of them”.

    Derek nods in agreement. “You’re not like them. You’re more than them. You already mean more. I wanted to be in a better place before giving this a chance”.

    “That’s why you’re in therapy?”

    “Yeah. I’ve been considering it for a long time but that night when you yelled at me for leaving without goodbye was the final push I needed”, Derek explains. “I’m still not completely there. There are still things we need to talk about and things that will require a lot more therapy but I’m in a place to give this a chance, if you still want to”.

    “If I hadn’t have shown up on your doorstep, what would have happened?”

    Wordlessly, Derek passed Stiles his phone. The draft messages are illuminated on the screen and Stiles scrolls through them. There’s countless messages, dating back at least two weeks, and they’re all different versions of an apology; of an explanation. Even if Stiles hadn’t shown up on his doorstep; Derek was trying. Derek has proven himself time and time again; Stiles knows that he would eventually have sent a message explaining everything.

    “I still love you and I’m all in”.



    Stiles calls the university the next morning and defers his enrolment.

    University can wait. Right now, he and Derek have a lot to work through, both individually and together. Stiles hopes that if things go well, he can transfer his studies to a university in the city. Based on the course catalogues he finds in Derek’s study, he thinks that they’re on the same page.




    He has seven missed calls from Scott and twelve text messages, all urging him to come back to Beacon Hills.

    There are three messages from Malia, stating that he needs to get his ass into gear and help them out.

    There’s even a text from Lydia, saying that she wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t serious.

    He looks over at Derek, who looks more relaxed and happy than he has in a long time. “Shit’s going down in Beacon Hills. They need me to save their asses”. He wants Derek to come with him but doesn’t want to ask; doesn’t want to be responsible for Derek’s shoulders growing tense as he heads back to the town that took everything from him. “I shouldn’t be gone for more than a week”, he says as he’s packing a duffel bag and throwing it into the back of Derek’s Camaro.  

    “That’s what Laura said”.

    There is no other explanation; nothing else that needs to be said. A second duffel bag is tossed into the back of the Camaro and Derek gets into the passenger seat like he belongs there.

    Turns out he didn’t need to ask. Maybe Derek needs him just as much as he needs Derek. After all this time, it’s a nice thought. It helps keep the darkness at bay; helps Stiles feel just a little more grounded than he has done in a long time.




    “You didn’t think you were doing this without me?”

    “Without us?”

    Yeah, it feels pretty damn good that they’re an ‘us’ now.

    You’re No Brother Of Mine.

    Yeah. Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Sorry. Anon requested- Hey! I was wondering if you could write an imagine with this scenario, when Dean went to hell Sam went nuts ofc so he dropped their little sister (15/16 yo) in Bobby’s place and when Dean gets back he is pissed w Sam for what he did to you. You are also pissed and very upset w him, so one day he asks you what’s the matter and you explode and tell him how painful it was to be left by him and everything. I know it’s very specific but I would rlly aprecciate if you do it, can you also put fluffy?

    Warnings- swearing, mentions of depression, also Sam’s kinda a dick for the first couple of paragraphs but he was high on the demon blood so that explains it.

    A/N- I’ve kind of been stuck in a slump for the past week, so writing has been difficult for me but i’m feeling a bit better so i’m ready to write again!

    FLASHBACKS IN ITALICS


    Four months, it had been four months since Dean died, four months since Sam left you. You still didn’t understand why he left, at first you didn’t mind, you knew he needed his space after all he did witness his brother getting torn to shreds by a Hell hound. 

    After a week of you staying at Bobby’s you became curious, you had rung and texted Sam numerous times but he never answered, your phone would always go to voice mail or it would just ring non-stop. After a month of silence you decided to try and track him, you tried to keep it a secret from Bobby, he thought you and Sam talked everyday, that’s what you told him. 

    Keep reading