flick's face

Just another dream-tell

Just now it occurred to me that CAM’s face-flicking is a weirdly specific inclusion that might come from something else in the real world and be able to tell us something or another. So I googled it because I’m great fun and this is how I spend my time. And yes, it does. And it can.

Face flicking is a test for unconsciousness, used by doctors and medics. I feel like I already knew this fact but hadn’t connected it to the scene. Taking an index or middle finger and flicking the unconscious patient’s face on the upper part of the cheek hits the corneal reflex, which is primed to flinch at the sensation of an impact so close to the eye. It’s an extremely irritating sensation, irritating enough to wake someone up if they’re not fully unconscious, or expose someone who is faking unconsciousness. However if you can flick the face one or two times like this with NO reaction, the patient is properly unconscious. 

What’s really nice and EMP-relevant here is that CAM decides to flick his face after John comments for a second time how he “doesn’t understand”. John being uncharacteristically slow on the uptake in this scene was one of the original and most significant “dream-tells” I listed in John’s Choice. So we get John demonstrating how OOC he is, then CAM deciding to perform on him a test for unconsciousness. And by unconscious, I mean dreaming, or at least, part of somebody else’s dream. 

[It’s also similar poking someone as a test consciousness, like Mrs Holmes suggests a few minutes earlier]

@isitandwonder @gosherlocked @ebaeschnbliah @monikakrasnorada 

The Reader and the Writer (Part 3)

Originally posted by juptern

Part one here    Part two here

Anon requests: Will you please do part 3 of the reader and the writer

You’re writing is so amazing, it’s what keeps me alive 😂😍 so thank you for doing such an amazing job and I hope you’re having an amazing day 💜 And I was wondering if you consider writing a part 3 of The Reader and The Writer someday? Because I’d love to read more of it 🙈

Please please PLEASE do a Part 3 to the reader and the writer? It’s amazing x

Omg! Part 3 please gor he reader and the writer 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PART THREE OF THE READER AND THE WRITER PLEASE

PART 3 OF READER AND THE WRITER

Part 3 of Reader and Writer?? Cause you are too good to us??? Like thank you??? 💞I swoon for your writing 💞

I NEED PART THREE OF THE READER AND THE WRITER ASAAAPPPP

The Reader and the Writer (part 2) was amazing and so are all ouf your writings ! I can’t wait for a part 3 !

Will you do a part 3 of the reader and the writer??

I know you just posted but WOW I NEED A PART THREE OF THE READER AND THE WRITER GIRL YOU TOO GOOD!!!

OMFG PLEASE PART 3 OF THE READER AND THE WRITER AAAAHHH I’M SO GLAD I REQUESTED IT YAAASSS YOUR WRITING IS PERFECT AND AMAZING I LOVE YOU <3

I!!! AM!!! SHOOK!!!! I NEED PART 3 OF READER AND THE WRITER WOWOWOWOW ITS AMAZING

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: The reader returns, and she offers the writer some explanations that he’s been waiting for

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,041

A/N: It’s here! I am so so so sorry for making you guys wait this long, I had so much going on this week and I had barely any time to write at all. I hope this makes up for it, enjoy!


Jughead didn’t expect for (Y/N) to return to Pop’s; in fact, he thought she’d leave town.  However, the following night he was proven wrong when she walked in and sat across him in their usual booth.

“You’re here,” he stated. (Y/N) quirked an eyebrow.

“You expected otherwise?” she inquired, crossing her arms.

“Well, to be fair, I hadn’t seen you in about a month before yesterday,” Jughead defended himself.  (Y/N) sucked in a breath and went to contradict him, but she realized he was right, so she shut her mouth.  They sat in silence, both of them avoiding eye contact with each other.  Finally, (Y/N) sighed and broke the quiet.

“So I’m guessing you want to talk about it,” she said, not even bothering to pull out a book.  Jughead nodded as he closed his laptop.

“I think I deserve a bit more information than the fact that you were born in Riverdale,” he grumbled.

“You do,” she agreed.

“So why did you think that was important to tell me?” Jughead began the interrogation. “Out of all the things to say to stop me from leaving, why that?”

“Well it worked, didn’t it?” (Y/N) attempted to joke, but Jughead didn’t even crack a smile.  She sighed and continued.  "I don’t know, because that’s the beginning. I’m a reader, Jug, I like to start at the beginning of a story.“

"And so your beginning started here.”

“Yes.”

“But then you moved somewhere else?” Jughead asked.  (Y/N) nodded.  "Why?“

"Because we had to,” she responded.  "My parents were… unpleasant people, to say the least.  Bad people tend to mingle, and thus my parents met the Blossoms.“  Jughead’s head perked up at the mention of the family.

"The Blossoms?” he echoed.  "As in Jason Blossom?“

"No, the other notorious Blossom family in Riverdale,” she rolled her eyes, sarcasm oozing from every word.  "Yes, Jason Blossom’s family.“  Jughead’s silence signaled for her to continue.  “My family and their family had this long-lasting feud for as long as I can remember.”

“So is that why you left?” he asked.  “Because of the feud?”

“Yes,” she answered tentatively, “and no.  It’s complicated.  You see, I didn’t leave Riverdale with my parents.”  (Y/N) paused for a moment, biting her lip.  “My parents were murdered.”  Jughead’s eyes widened as he realized the severity of her situation.

“The Blossoms did it?” he immediately assumed.  (Y/N) shook her head.

“Not that we know of,” she replied.  “They never figured out who did it.  Yes, the Blossoms were high on the suspect list, but personally, I don’t think it was them.  They’re too snobbish to actually murder someone.”  The pair fell into a silence, Jughead attempting to soak up all the information he was just given.  (Y/N) lazily glanced around the dinner, scanning the strangers’ faces.

“Why’d you come back?” Jughead spoke up.  (Y/N)’s eyes flicked back to his face.

“They were about to sell our old home,” she shrugged.  “My aunt was infuriated, so she packed up all our things and moved here.” Jughead had so many more questions swirling around his mind, but when he observed (Y/N)’s face, he saw how tired and deflated she looked.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, “this is too much for you.  I shouldn’t have pressured you to tell me everything at once.”

“No, it’s fine,” she insisted, shaking her head.  “I want to tell you, I… you deserve to know.”  Jughead reached across the table, grabbed (Y/N)’s hand, and gazed at her in a manner she couldn’t quite distinguish.  He didn’t say anything, and neither did she.  They just sat there in the booth, on a quiet day in Pop’s, Jughead holding (Y/N)’s hand and she was letting him.  Without speaking, she understood what he was trying to tell her: there was nothing left to say.


For the next two weeks, neither Jughead nor (Y/N) said anything to each other.  They still went to Pop’s every night, and they sat together at the same booth.  But (Y/N) always had a book, and Jughead always had his laptop.  Frequently, when one of them wasn’t looking, the other would glance up and stare for just a moment.

On a slow Tuesday, Veronica entered Pop’s.  She was only there to pick up the food she and her mom had ordered, but she noticed (Y/N) and Jughead sitting together at a booth, and so she sped over there.

“You’re back,” she noted, sitting down next to (Y/N).  She glanced up, putting Frankenstein down, and shot Veronica a timid smile.

“I’ve been back for a few weeks,” she responded.  Veronica furrowed her eyebrows.

“Really?” she questioned, shifting her gaze to Jughead.  He didn’t look up from his computer.  (Y/N) awkwardly nodded, turning back to her novel.  Veronica glanced back and forth between (Y/N) and Jughead, waiting for one of them to say something.  “Do you guys ever talk?”

“It’s not always necessary,” Jughead replied, rolling his eyes.

“Well yeah,” Veronica shrugged, “but you guys are dead silent.  Neither of you have spoken to each other since I got here.”  When neither of them replied to her comment, Veronica understood that she was unwanted and left.

The two sat in silence for another hour before Jughead interrupted it by slamming his laptop shut.

“Okay, I’ve spent two weeks thinking about what to say,” he started, catching (Y/N)’s attention.  She lifted her eyes from her book and stared at Jughead, puzzled.  “But I don’t know.  I don’t know what to say!  How do I respond to the fact that your parents were murdered?”

“You don’t have to sa-”

“Yes I do!” Jughead interjected.  “Because we’re… friends, we’re friends.  And I’m supposed to say something to make you feel better.”  (Y/N) tilted her head sideways as she gazed at Jughead, trying to think of a reply.

“You still have a question,” she finally said, “don’t you?  And you didn’t want to say anything else because you didn’t want to tempt your own curiosity.”

“No,” Jughead shook his head, “no, I-”

“Just ask,” (Y/N) stopped him.  “Just ask me, Jug.”  He inhaled sharply, and examined her face.  There was no doubt, no hesitation; just determination with a hint of anger. Jughead sighed, giving into (Y/N)’s, and his own curiosity’s, demands.

“What’s your real name?”

Part four here

It’s You That I Hold Onto (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Originally posted by sweetly87

✩ prompt: a lovely anon message a few posts back :) includes a jelly reader and an overprotective thunderbird

✩ word count: a fair amount idk man

✩ warnings: so sweet u could possibly get a toothache :(

It’s You That I Hold Onto

It’s a typical Saturday evening in the Goldstein residence (plus a few), Queenie and Jacob waltzing to sleepy crackling records, dappled golden mid-winter light on the wallpaper, the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen. 

Everything seems perfect to Y/N as she makes her way to the living room, her brilliant crimson skirt swishing rather gracefully about her waist, her hair (for once!) cooperating falling over her shoulders smoothly.

Queenie smiles at her, elegantly breaking away from Jacob to switch which record is playing, new music erupting from the golden phonograph.

“Would ya’ care to dance?” Jacob asks, giving her a rather sloppy grin and holding out his hand.

Y/N nods gleefully, enjoying the time with one of her best friends as the stout man spins her about the room, Queenie clapping to the music.

Newt’s eyes flick to the duo dancing gleefully through the living room, his gaze caught on the pretty woman in his arms. How that skirt shows off her hips-

He looks away immediately, blushing and mentally kicking himself for being “an absolute bloody creep.”

Keep reading

First Impressions

AO3 

~2.5k

Castiel works as a teller at his local bank, and Dean is a new mystery customer that brings in a wad of cash and crumpled singles once a week to deposit into his account.

Working as a bank teller was definitely a unique and interesting experience - and one that Castiel generally enjoyed.

Of course, there were always the customers that raised hell when they walked through the door, complaining about incorrect overdraft fees or loan interests, but for the most part, the people were pleasant and Castiel didn’t mind plastering a smile onto his face for five or six hours at a time.

He and the other tellers had their favorite customers that they always talked about, whether for the entertainment factor, or because they genuinely liked them.

There was the nice old woman who always updated the teller on her grandson’s theater career; the middle aged man who generally arrived drunk and so sure that he was a millionaire even though he wasn’t; the college-aged girl who came in with a different hair color every time; and a younger man who kept trying to convince the teller that he was haunted.

Yes, Castiel was sure that he’d seen it all - and then one day, Dean Winchester came through his line.

The moment Castiel looked up as the new face approached the counter, he was thrown off. Sandy and deliberately coiffed hair framed a perfectly symmetrical face that he was sure he’d seen on a famous statue in some museum or another. Soft green eyes blinked at him with an even softer smile as he leaned forward against the counter and tilted his head.

“Hey,” the man said, his voice almost as smooth as the marble his arms were resting against.

“Hello.” Castiel cleared his throat and smiled, praying to God that it looked natural. “How can I help you today, sir?”

The man pulled out his ID and slid it across the counter.

Dean Winchester, it read.

Keep reading

Best Laid Plans

SPN FanFic

~Dean tries to go all chick-flick on you but fails miserably~

Dean x Reader, Sam

2,464 Words

Warnings: Gratuitous Fluff. Smidge of Smut (Barely)

A/N: This is for @lizmalfoywayland​ who sent me the amazing idea this morning. And for @bringmesomepie56​ in trade for Sammy (we’re even now)

~Feedback is the Crack that keeps the writing coming back!~

“So any big plans for tonight?” Sam asked his brother as they both reached for the coffee pot at the same time.

Dean beat him to it and let out a victorious chuckle. “I don’t know what you’re referring to,” he lied; a mischievous sparkle overtaking his green eyes.

“Good morning!” Y/N appeared in the archway, bouncing into the kitchen and running to Dean. Careful to avoid the hot mug of joe in his hands, she leaned up on her toes to kiss him hello. Dean closed his eyes as her lips distracted him, so much so that he didn’t notice Y/N had stolen his coffee until she pulled back and took a sip.

“Hey!”

Y/N cringed. “You forgot the milk.”

“I did not. That was mine,” Dean laughed, watching her float over to the fridge with a smile. She was adorable, even right out of bed, especially right out of bed. Her hair was a mess of tangles and unruly slept-on waves, her eyes were bright but sleepy, and her voice was crackly and low. Also didn’t hurt that she looked hot as hell in his old t-shirt that hung down to her thighs, almost completely covering the tiny sleep shorts she wore.

“I would have thought you’d at least make me coffee this morning, Dean.” Y/N poured a splash of milk into the mug and turned to give Dean a chance to defend himself.

Keep reading

Shakespeare (Part VII)

(Banner made by the incredibly talented @tiostyles)

Harry X Reader (AU)

In which Harry is a poetic frat boy who just so happens to be the TA for your new English class.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: Hi!! If you happen to see and spelling mistakes or grammatical errors, please do not hesitate to let me know!! Any and all feedback is appreciated, as always. I hope you enjoy!! We’re getting pretty close to the end. :(


Friday nights are for reading.

You’ve opened the window of your dorm room to let in a cool breeze that breaks through the suffocating warmth of the building’s heating system. You’re halfway through a copy of Wuthering Heights that you borrowed from Harry, curled up on top of your comforter and reading with the dim lights from outside. With each turn of a page, you find your thumb in a curved divet exactly the size of Harry’s thumb. You’ve learned in the past few weeks that he licks his fingers before turning pages.

A sharp knock comes at the door and makes you flinch. A glance at the clock shows that it’s twelve-thirty A.M. You stay put, flipping the page again and hoping whoever it is will think you’re asleep. But it comes again—harder, consecutive knocks that make you jerk into a sitting position.

The persistent banging continues and you groan, holding your place with a bookmark and sliding the book onto the desk beside you. You hop down off the bed, sliding your feet into a pair of slippers and padding across the room to open the door, where the knocking has finally stopped.

Keep reading

alphaandhismate  asked:

Hey Rachel got a question for ya. Do you think Stiles would feel inadequate compared to all the buff sexy werewolves and push himself​ to the breaking point trying to look like he belongs? Cause I have this headcanon where he decides to work out to make himself look like he belongs beside the wolves but it doesn't work out to well and he winds up doing more harm than good. Which upsets Derek when he finds out (because he loves the idiot but he won't admit it)

Aw I can absolutely see this. Stiles, already prone to insecurity and the feeling of not being good enough, slowly being worn down by that itching knowledge in his skull of being that he’s not as strong as any of his friends, not as attractive as any of his friends, and sure as hell not as useful as any of them, right? Sure, he’s smart. He knows that. But what the hell use is that in battle? He can’t dive in front of a bullet to keep the others from hurting, can’t stand beside the others and fight at anything close to their level.

And no matter how much he smirks at enemies’ jibes and plays off as enjoying being the group’s token human (”means I get to leave all the heavy lifting to you guys, right?”) it’s a feeling that would keep building up over time, pushing at the back of his skull every time the pack insists he be left behind on a certain mission, that he should stay where he’s safe, or gets offhandedly told he’ll just slow the others down. Every time they go running out in the preserve and he gets to sit behind and watch the car. Every time he goes out with the group and finds himself wondering what he looks like in everyone else’s eyes: this circle of beautiful beyond belief, supernaturally perfect people and then… him.

He couldn’t share his worries with the others –– Scott would get that worried look in his eyes and insist Stiles is perfect the way he is. Lydia might not share the same speed and strength as the others but she’s always been supernaturally beautiful, and she’s got her own banshee tricks to help out in a fight. So he keeps it inside, bottles it up… and he starts to push himself. Stays after school lifting weights until his limbs are wrecked from it, goes out running until his legs are shaking under him. Thinking one more lift, one more mile, one step closer to belonging.

And it starts working, too. He’s able to keep up with the pack sometimes, on their more casual runs. He’s gaining muscle, losing any last hints of baby fat. But there are hollowed shadows under his eyes too and he’s not eating enough, probably, but that’s fine. It’s fine when he wrestles with Liam and ends up with a purpled bruise blooming out across his ribs from a too-hard tackle. It’s fine that he can’t really sleep anymore because his muscles are always burning. It’s fine because he’s started looking at pictures of the group after pack events and almost seeing a group of people who fit together, not a handful of perfect people around a lanky, awkward him. Who the hell wouldn’t sacrifice a little comfort and the ability to lift his arms above his head for that?

.-

Derek’s the one who notices first, because of course he is. Drops in through the bedroom window one night like the supernatural stalking creeper he used to be, and finds Stiles collapsed to an exhausted heap against the side of his bed. Too tired and too sore to have stripped off his sweat-stained shirt or make it the extra step to lay down on it. He forces a smile when he spots Derek, but it’s more pained than it should be. Wavers at the edges. Derek ignores his opening jibe, doesn’t comment on the way Stiles tries to push himself up on unsteady palms and falters, a spasm of motion that starts and dies just as fast. Just moves silent, sits down next to him on the floor at the foot of the bed. There’s a world of words in his silence, a disapproving air Stiles can feel deep in his bones, and he finds himself saying “I’m fine,” low and head ducked, like it’s a lie.

It’s not a lie. But it’s not exactly true either, is it?

Derek’s eyes are on Stiles’ face now, flicking down his damp shirt, over his faintly trembling limbs, and it’s like he’s seeing too much suddenly, seeing through walls Stiles is too tired to pull up. People aren’t supposed to see him at this point in the day; they’re supposed to see him in the morning when he has the energy to grin and bounce and keep up with the rest of them like it’s effortless. They’re not supposed to see the tired bruises under his eyes or the way he shakes from hours of trying to hold himself at a werewolf’s level.

He wets his lips, a flash of frustration burning bitter through him.

“Look, I’m not strong like you guys.” It’s not news. It’s been a constant refrain for the past two years of his life, ever since Scott was bit and turned into a superhero sports star girl magnet and left Stiles standing awkwardly in his dust. Stiles couldn’t ask for the bite, Scott wouldn’t understand. And he doesn’t think he wants it either, not really. He doesn’t want the claws or the anchors or the pulls to the moon. He just wants to be able to keep up with them. Wants to not be the funny one in a group of supermodels. Doesn’t want to be the weak one in a group of heroes. Doesn’t want to be the one holding them back.

He bites over a frustrated sound, frowns at Derek’s faintly pinched brows, manages to lift one bone-dead arm and snaps out even more harshly: “I’m not… hot.”

It’s not the whole issue, it barely touches the issue, but it’s too much already and he scowls after he says it, daring Derek to snort or mock him or roll his eyes and agree, obviously, but that searching look only seems to sink deeper and Derek murmurs, “You’re wrong.”

Which is just… it’s worse than laughing. Because Stiles could handle people dismissing him, mocking him. He’s used to that. What he can’t take is Derek fucking Hale feeling so goddamned bad about his patheticness that he’s reduced to lying to try and comfort him.

“Oh, right, sure. I’m hot. You guys are all freaking Greek gods with all the muscle and the… faces.” He snorts, falling back against an overworked spine that protests the pressure. “You can’t even talk. You’ve always been the hottest person ever. You’ve got no idea what it’s like to be the one no one ever wants.”

Derek’s eyes flick down Stiles again, reassessing, and Stiles winces over the realization that Derek’s trying to find something, anything likable on his wiry frame.

Don’t––” He starts, because he physically cannot handle that, but Derek’s saying “You’re wrong,” again, and it’s soft and warm in a way that doesn’t sound like pity.

But Stiles doesn’t let himself feel it. The “oh yeah?” he shoots back is sure and challenging, almost smug in its confidence because maybe he’s not beautiful beyond all reason like the man next to him, maybe he’s not strong and desirable and wanted but at least he’s smart enough to realize that.

Derek lets out a growl of frustration and turns where he’s sitting, crowds in close with palms pressed to either side of Stiles’ thigh, and Stiles is on the edge of rolling his eyes because does Derek seriously think he can intimidate Stiles into changing his mind about himself, but then “you’re wrong” falls out a third time, a too-warm growl of a whisper, and Derek closes the space between their lips.

Stiles loses his conviction in the contact.

Derek’s hands move over him while they kiss, dragging soothing tips and scolding pinches over his wrecked muscles in ways that leave him groaning, touches sinking you’re beautiful and you’re wanted under his skin in ways the best words probably never could. Hands trail down to play across Stiles’ fingers, silently praising the cleverness of them. Beard-rough lips drift up to kiss across his temple and a warmth of admiration seems to melt into him with each press. And Stiles can barely move, arms aching protest as he lifts them to thread into Derek’s hair, body quivering in ways that shift between exhaustion and want.

When Derek finally leans back Stiles whimpers, wanting more but too worn down to chase him. But Derek’s watching him from inches away in the dark room, and there’s no reflected flaws in those dark eyes now. Just you’re beautiful, you’re wanted. You’re important

Stiles runs light thumbs down Derek’s beard, lets out a light laugh he barely recognizes.

“Guess I believe you,”

(And from now on, on nights when the pack goes out running, Stiles and Derek find a more interesting way to occupy themselves by the cars.)

A Night In With Peter Maximoff Would Include...

A/N: Finally writing again felt so good guys!! This piece was simple and short, but made me excited to be back at it :) hopefully you enjoy this! Hang in there, it’s almost the weekend! Xx

Originally posted by miomeu

A Night In With Peter Maximoff Would Include…

-Skipping the weekend parties to spend the night together

-Laying outstretched on the couch together, finally relaxing after a stressful week

-Peter constantly brushing his fingers against your skin

-Half watching movies, half laughing at stupid jokes or posts online

-Peter absentmindedly playing with your hair

-Snacks galore (comprised mostly of Twinkies)

-Peter asking, almost too often, if you need anything like more blankets or water, saying he’s happy to run and get it

-Distracting kisses, the good kind, on your neck during the movie, and sweet ones on the top of your head

-Taking breaks every half hour, when Peter can’t sit still any longer and starts flicking popcorn at your face, which causes you to hit him with a couch pillow, starting a fight that finishes with the two of you laughing on the floor

-Walking around the neighborhood together late at night, fingers intertwined, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand, enjoying the quiet and Peter’s occasional rambles

-Falling asleep on his chest and getting to wake to his wide grin and mess of silver hair first thing in the morning

anonymous asked:

Imagine Nursey is touch-starved, but a little insecure about it and Dex is uncomfortable with PDA (It's none of their damn business anyway)

Hey, I…..got carried away. Here is 2.5k of NurseyDex cuddling! Hope you enjoy!

- c.g.


Dex had resolved upon his return to Samwell for his sophomore year to give Derek a chance.

They’d finally had the impending blowout that’d been building all year, and it had been… revealing, challenging.

Things had been said on both sides that were – not worth dwelling on. But, some of what Derek had said, voice raw, hair disheveled, eyes raging, no veneer of “chill” to be found, had been a wakeup call:

  • Will had a temper
  • Will shut people out - his classmates, his teammates, even his friends
  • Will seemed to openly support policy-makers that would keep his friends living in the margins
  • Will could do this because, whether he decided to own up to his bi-curiosity or not, Will was a white man

And while he’d called Nursey out on being a judgmental asshole, he’d also been a little floored by how raw, how hurt Nurse had seemed by Will’s standoffishness (dislike). It was jarring to realize that anything that he did even mattered to his d-man. He himself had been frustrated by Derek’s almost immediate disapproval, but everything about Mr. Andover-Manhattan had seemed to scream unshakable nonchalance.

But, by the end of their argument Dex had seen mirrored in Nursey’s eyes the same frustrating desire to be acknowledged and accepted that he was all too used to wrestling with himself. It was clear that Nursey had just had more practice hiding it than Dex had ever had to learn.

That look had pricked at Will’s conscience throughout the summer. Even after he’d apologized, he knew that something was going to have to change. He couldn’t justify causing anyone to feel self-conscious or unvalued, not if he was aware of it and could do something about it.

So, Dex had decided to just try with Nurse this year.

It meant he spent more time watching Nursey. Derek Nurse, he’d realized, would never willingly give away a weakness if he could (relatable, actually). So, if he was going to keep from losing his temper with Derek, he’d have to watch him. Watch for the glint in his eye that meant he was joking. Watch for the crease between his brows that meant he was tired. Watch for the biting of his thumb which meant he was nervous. Just watch him for any little sign of humanity that might make him make sense.

That’s why he noticed it:

  • The longing looks as Ransom and Holster snuggled…everywhere
  • The bittersweet edge to his smile when Shitty swooped Jack into an epic celly hug
  • The disappointment when Chowder pulled away during couch time to go hang out with Farmer

Dex, used to being around his own large and tactile family, recognized that familiar, touch-starved itch when he saw it.

It nearly drove him crazy last year, but his oldest sister had come down a few times for business and insisted on squeezing in as many sibling snuggles as she could.

But, Nursey doesn’t have siblings, and – as awesome and supportive as their team can be – it’s pretty clear that Derek’s not getting what he needs there, and that he’s likely too shy to ask.

Luckily for Derek, Dex’s sister doesn’t have a business trip planned for another few months and Dex, well, he likes efficiency. With one act he can 1.) stop watching Derek mope, 2.) meet his own snuggling quota 3.) maybe start mending the breach between them.


A year of roadies, shared classes, and group texting has taught him that Friday at noon is pretty universally acknowledged as NapTime™, at least among the SMH.

So, at 11:40, Dex changes into his softest sweats, his fuzziest socks, and the pre-laundered double-blended SMH tee he knows Bitty helped Lardo pick out, and heads over to Nurses dorm.

His timing is impeccable.

Nursey answers the door already groggy and cotton-clad. Dex barely gives him time to voice his confused query before pushing him backwards through the door.

“Dex, man, what the hell?”

Dex doesn’t even pause, just plops himself onto Nursey’s bed and starts pulling off his shoes.

“NapTime™, Nursey.”

After getting both shoes off and tucked neatly under the bed, Dex takes off his hoodie and throws it over the back of the chair by the desk.

“Yes, it is NapTime™. And you are here.”

Dex steals himself and looks up, meets Nursey’s very sleepy, very confused eyes. His lips twitch as he takes in the chill-less pout on his d-man’s face.

“Yes, Derek. To sleep.” He says it slowly. Nursey’s eyes narrow at the insinuation that he’s somehow the lost party here.

Dex merely shrugs and kicks his feet up onto the bed, laces his fingers behind his head and stares Nursey down.

He’s left Derek room on the inside of the bed, but the narrow twin bed the dorm’s come with mean that the only way they’re both fitting is for grade A snuggling.

Derek’s pout deepens as he tries to process what’s happening here, but Dex can see that either the invitation or the need to sleep is quickly superseding Derek’s needs for answers.

“This isn’t… You’re not gonna like… Gah – You did come over here to sleep in my bed, right?”

Dex nods.

“And this isn’t a prank?”

“No, man.”

Derek’s eyes flick over Dex’s face before he nods and shuffles toward the bed.

“I don’t know what’s happening here, but you forfeited chirping rights when you crawled in my bed. And judgement. You don’t get to judge me for –” he waves his hands around ineffectually. His eyes are already starting to close again.

“Yeah, ok. No judging. Now, get in bed.” Dex tugs at Nursey’s shirt, and Nursey stumbles and then tumbles over and onto Dex. And, instead of shifting over and away, snuggles further into Dex’s shoulder.

“No judging,” he hears Nursey mumble into his shoulder.

Dex sighs, content, and pulls his other hand from under Derek to sink into Nursey’s curls.

“Good night, Nurse.”


Dex wakes up to the feeling of Nursey attempting to burrow even further into him, burying his head even further into the crook under Dex’s chin.

“Settle down,” Dex grumbles.

His only reply is a groan and a tightening of Nurse’s arms around him. His sighs, content, briefly believing he be able to settle back into sleep. However, it takes less than a moment to understand why Nurse had been trying to hide away.

“You gotta get it. Alarm’s just gonna keep ringing.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Me neither, but you set it for a reason.”

“Mmm. Study group.”

“For your chemistry class. You gotta go.”

Dex feels more than sees Nurse’s head pop up. He rests his chiseled (read: bony) chin on Dex’s chest.

“You’ve got that project due soon.”

“I know that. Why do you?”

“Because you’ve been whining about it in the group text. A lot.”

Nursey’s still in that sleep-vulnerable place where emotions flit unchecked across his face. Dex watches the surprise play out over Derek’s face, his green eyes finally narrowing.

“You never read the group text.”

“Wrong,” Dex clears his throat. “I never talk in the group text.”

“Mmm,” Dex can feel Nursey’s hum vibrating through his own chest. “So you’ve been lurking. Like a creep.”

And in the space of a three words Dex can feel the familiar burn of his own temper rising up. His cheeks burn. He’s not a fucking creep. The group just moves so fast sometimes, and the jokes get so barbed or so obscure that –

“Just like Jack, man.” Derek’s finally dislodged his bony chin from Dex’s chest to nuzzle one last time into Dex’s shoulder. “Just quietly collecting info on everyone only to come out of the blue with a wicked burn when least expected.”

Derek’s body unfurls into one long stretch that presses along Will’s side before he pushes himself up from the bed, a grin flashing across his face as he starts swapping out his sweats for jeans.

“Respect, man.”

Dex watches from the bed as Nursey pulls his oversized t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion. He shakes his head as he rifles around his dressers. The muscles of his back pull and bunch under bronze skin.

“Who fucking knew,” he hears Derek say, almost under his breath. “Will Poindexter, man of fucking mystery.”

Ridiculously chiseled abs disappear under a tight, white t-shirt. The t-shirt disappears under what’s surely a ridiculously expensive flannel.

Derek turns back to the bed where Dex has…..ridiculously been staring….unmoving.

“Feel free to stay as long as you want, man,” Derek says. He runs a hand through his curls. His shirt rises; he pulls it back down, covering the cut V of his hips over his jeans. “The door locks on its own.”

He spins, hip checks the dresser, curses, and grabs his bag.

“The door’s self-locking. And. Um. Thanks for the nap.”

Said door slams behind him.


Shared NapTime™ becomes a Thing.

The week after their first nap is tense. He keeps expecting Chowder to come flail at him about his mad cuddling skills or Holster to come clap him on the shoulder and ask if he can join NapTime™, too. But no one does.

He’s aware of Nursey’s eyes on him like they’ve never really been before, following him with a furrowed brow, probably waiting for the other shoe to drop, too.

But it never does.

And at 11:40 on Friday Dex knocks on Nursey’s door. He’s jumpy. Sleep-fuzzy, but antsy, bouncing on his feet.

“I can leave if you don’t want to,” Dex offers.

“Don’t. I mean – I want to. I don’t know why you want to, but –” Derek pulls his door further open.

Dex walks past, shedding his hoodie. It’d gotten overly warm last time.

“It’s simple, Nurse. I need sleep. You need sleep. There’s this bed here.” Dex pulls his shoes off.

“We’re gonna ignore the part where you have your own bed?”

Dex lies down and tugs on Nursey’s t-shirt, so he does the tumble-cuddle down onto the bed.

“Mmhmm,” he hums. “We’re ignoring it.”

Derek tosses a leg over one of Dex’s and throws an arm around his waist, tucks his head into Dex’s shoulder and relaxes.

“Whatever, man. Man of mystery.” He giggles to himself before quieting down to sleep.  


And so, yeah, they nap.

Once a week at first, and then more frequently as hockey season starts up rife with intense practices, games, and roadies.

It’s their secret. A private indulgence that slowly starts to inform their public interactions. Nothing crazy just:

  • You don’t hold grudges against the dude whose curls you plan on finger-combing later
  • You don’t pick petty fights with your bro when there’s soothing back-scratches on the line
  • You speak up when you’re confused about a biting joke when it seems at odds with the soft smiles you’ve been accustomed to waking up to
  • You check in when you notice stress tensing your d-man’s shoulders
  • You develop little inside jokes when you’re stumbling sleepily around each other’s rooms, tripping over discarded sweats and shoes
  • You accept a profile on his Netflix account when –

Listen, needless to say, Nursey becomes a friend – an adorably cuddly friend. Who turns out to be a complete dork. He was bashful smiles and sleep mussed hair. All cheesy lines (when not penning lines of poetry that send goosebumps up Dex’s arms) and clumsy limbs. It was revelatory to realize Nursey spent so much time artfully reclined because he could not keep himself upright and uninjured off the ice. It was probably to balance out his perfect fucking face.

Which…was not a problem for Dex. Not at all.


Nursey stumbles from Dex’s en suite (one of the few perks of living in the Honors’ dorm) and tumbles to the bed. Dex watches as Nursey kicks his sweats, long legs flail - flexing hard-won muscle. He flops when he’s finally gotten the last bit of fabric from around his ankle.

It’s clear that the last round of all-nighters and finals has left Nurse wiped.

“Deeeeex,” this can only be classified as a whine.

Dex smiles, but turns back to his laptop before he can succumb to the temptation behind him. Nursey may be finished with his all-nighters, but Dex still has one more in front of him.

“No can do, Der. One more project, and then I’m yours.”

Derek groans, but Dex hears him roll over and settle in anyway.

Dex stretches and gets to it.


He’s still got a blessed few hours before the sun rises when he finally crawls in bed. Nursey is deliciously sleep-warm and Dex curls right around him.

He’s met with an appreciative moan as Derek rolls over.

It’s customary. Derek sleeps on his belly – well, half on top of Dex – and usually flings an arm or leg (both, it’s usually both) over Dex.

What’s not customary:

“Babe,” Derek murmurs, pulling Dex in close. Derek’s hand sweeps up Dex’s side, caresses his neck, before burying itself into Dex’s hair.

Dex finds himself curled onto his side, Nursey’s leg wedged between his own.

“Will,” Nursey groans. Dex breathes the word in on Nursey’s breath. Nursey’s fingers combing through his hair send a shiver down his spine that leave him pressed closer to Derek.

“Missed you.” These – these words are pressed into his mouth. Derek’s perfect mouth brushes against Dex’s with a sweet, aching softness before –

“Shit!”

“Fuck!” Dex screams, curling around his balls. “Dammit, Nurse. Stop flailing. Shit. Stop. Stop it. Please. Just – give me a minute, yeah. But. Just chill for a sec, yeah?”

Nursey stops moving, finally. When will catches his breath, what he finds breaks his heart a little.

Derek’s curled himself into the smallest space he can, back against the wall, clearly trying not to touch Dex at all. He’s got his thumbnail between his teeth and, goodness, there’s fear in his mossy eyes.

“Derek, you gotta come here, ok. I’m sore and sleepy, and just, will you come here, please.”

“Will – Dex – shit. I’m sor–”

“Stop. Derek. You can apologize if it’s not something you want, and there’s some other Will-Dex you were thinking of. But, you know, on the off chance it was me – come here, dammit.”

Nursey crawls over to lean just over Dex.

Gosh, he’s adorable.

Dex reaches up, sinking a hand into Derek’s hair.

“Dex, bro, I –” Derek’s face sinks into an anxious pout. “You’re a really good cuddler. And hot. And your body. Shit bro, I’ve been trying to be good, but – don’t hate me?”

Dex huffs a laugh before forcefully rolling them over, careful to avoid Nursey’s knees.

“I gave up hating you, like, a whole 6 months ago. Keep up, Derek.”

Dex kisses the growing smile from Nursey’s face. His mouth opens beautifully, and for a time there’s nothing but the obscene slick and slide of Derek’s mouth, his tongue, and teeth.

It’s – god, it’s fucking good. But.

He presses his forehead to Nursey’s and revels in the feel of Derek’s hands roaming under shirt. Skin to skin.

“You’ve no idea how much I want to follow this to it’s natural end, bro, but – NapTime™ first?”

Dex grins.

“Mmhmm. Sleep first. This,” he presses a kiss to Derek’s forehead as they settle in. “This after.”

The Seducer ( i )

Chapter 1: Red Dye

Part: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven

Pairing: BTS X READER

Excerpt: “His slender fingers ran under your chin, as he tilted your head up so you were looking back into those intelligent brown eyes, “She’s going to be fun to break.”

Genre: drama, action, humour

Length: 1.2k

A/N:  have fun guessing which boy is under which mask. this will be updated daily for a few days. Also I’m currently hiking so leaving a comment or an ask would be v e r y appreciated.

If you’d known you wouldn’t be staying at the party until the slow dance, you wouldn’t have spent so long picking the colour of your dress, and would’ve opted out on purchasing the faux white fur jacket if you had known it would be covered in crimson blood stains by the end of the night.

“Everyone on the floor or else she gets a bullet in the head,” the barrel of the gun was steady at your temple, your hands were pulled behind your back, your hands clenched in fists, as a boy with a fox mask tugged you away from the screaming crowd all on the floor now sending you pitying glances.

With every step away your heart rate began to speed up as his lips lowered to your ear, brushing against it as he now whispered directly to you. His voice was so low that even at a whisper, a shiver had run down your spine, the hair on your arms raising in a primitive response to fear, “don’t scream princess. I don’t want to have to harm your pretty face.”

There were three other assailants in the room, currently collecting jewellery from wealthy girls, your crystal necklace was in full view as you were pushed forward slightly as cold handcuffs were attached to your wrists by your assailant. The glinting of it caught one of their eyes, as he strode over to you, so close that you could see his eyes through the holes of his lamb mask, a dark brown colour, currently looking you in the eye before a hand raised, short fingers picking up the crystal.

You had pulled away before pausing as the gun’s pressure increased on. your temple, “What have you got here?” The lamb’s sultry voice was higher than you expected but you were still intimidated, even if he seemed to be around the same height as you, the confidence with which he carried himself had your knees go weak in fear.

“Leave her alone, Chim.” The boy spoke from behind you, as he pulled you into his hard chest, the pressure of the gun lessened and for a second you thought you could kick him in the nuts, grab the gun and run. But as his chin landed on your shoulder and he blew warm air against your neck, laughing at the small groan you let out and the way you tried to move away from him, you knew there was no escape, “We’re keeping her, Boss told us she was the next best thing if we couldn’t find the heir.”

The fox boy’s slender fingers ran under your chin, as he tilted your head up so you were looking back into those intelligent brown eyes, “She’s going to be fun to break.” You shook your head out of his grip and exhaled, waiting for some sort of miracle.

Your miracle came sooner than expected, the boy holding you sat you in a chair as he walked around to face you, his fox mask couldn’t hide the smile in his eyes as he patted your head, “If you move you can kiss your life goodbye.” He then bounded over to the other two boys, one wearing a lamb mask the other a deer mask. They talked between them, before walking away into different rooms leaving the boy in the fox max to talk to a woman crying, he was crouched in front of them making faces and teasing them which just led to an increase in sobs and wails.

Two large hands grabbed both of your shoulders shoving you forward, your grunt of pain alerted the fox boy, whose head whipped around in time to see you being hauled over a man’s shoulder, a man you recognised to be your best friend’s bodyguard. A feral growl escaped the boy’s lips as he charged at you, the glint of his knife glinted in the setting sun and as he sped towards you the bodyguard swung around from walking away, as he felt your muscles tighten for the impact of the boy’s body. As he swung around, somehow his grip on you lessened and your head was slammed into the rough white wall; your teeth sinking into your tongue as you slumped against the wall in pain. A moan left your mouth, a warm, bitter copper taste filling your mouth as your eyes filled with tears due to the unbearable pain throbbing in your nose and mouth.

Your head was faced towards the wall and your body had lost all the adrenaline in shock, as you gazed at the wall as you focused on listening to the fight, trying to see if you could figure out who was winning, but all you could hear were grunts, the fox boy calling to his friends and their footsteps getting louder followed by more grunts.

A gun was fired and you jumped in surprise, your muscles tensing and then after a long low groan, followed by colourful cursing, then more grunts and after a while the sound of glass shattering, which finally spurred you to find the strength to roll over onto your bruised shoulder.

The glass floor to ceiling window was shattered and the bodyguard was nowhere to be seen, but the other boys were there, and your eyes were drawn to the fox boy, the knife in his hand was bloody. The red coated his hand and was in splatters over his arms and flicks on his face, his black suit jacket had been taken off and the boy was clutching his arm as blood seeped through his fingers, as the others fussed around him. He looked up, flicking his chestnut hair so his fringe was no longer in his eyes, as his eyes locked with yours with a smirk, but you were filled with fear as you sat up trying to find a way to escape.

But your body was full of fear, fear of what they had in store for you with the malicious intent that hung in the atmosphere around them; fear of the boys themselves wearing blood like an old scent it was all too much as you felt your head get light hearted, just as you eyesight became blurred and your eyelids too heavy to keep open a tanned hand appeared in your vision. The hands grasped you by the biceps, pulling you so you were standing opposite the fox boy; the rest of the guests had bene long since disregarded as he ran his warm thumb over your split lip. He then guided you past the shattered glass that littered the floor murmuring in your area, “take it easy. It’ll be okay,”

That was easier said than done, your hands still secured behind your back as you were dragged down the stairs and out of the building from the back entrance, you were led to a sports car and the boy flipped you at the last moment to slam you into the car, his body pressed against yours before he bent down to whisper in your ear, “My name is taehyung,” as he pulled away you watched his eyes move from yours to your lips as his dipped down. Your brow furrowed preparing for a kiss but all you felt was the warmth, dampness of his tongue as he lapped up the blood pooling on your lip, leaning in once more, “you’re going to be fun to break.”



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You're joking (Grayson Dolan)

Originally posted by dolans-do-it-better

“hey guys what’s up? It’s Ethan, Grayson and y/n and today Grayson is getting his wisdom teeth removed!” Ethan said into the camera.

I laughed at Grayson who had a nervous look on his face.

“you’ll be fine babe it’s not that bad.” I said squeezing his hand.

“I really want to know what you’ll be like after.” Ethan said zooming the camera in on Grayson’s face.

“well Ethan it’s not like your going to get the whole freaking thing on camera!” Grayson laughed smacking the camera out of his twins hand.

“any commentary to add girl gross enough to date my brother?” Ethan laughed pointing the camera at me.

“yes just that you’re a pain in my butt.” I laughed giving Gray a high five.

“Grayson Dolan.” The nurse called.

I could tell Grayson was still pretty nervous.

“you’ll be fine.” I said giving him a hug.

He leaned down and softly put his lips on mine. It was a short yet sweet kiss.

“UGGGH DO YOU PEOPLE SEE WHAT I HAVE TO DEAL WITH!” Ethan groaned making his signature cringe face.

Grayson flicked him off before following the nurse back to the room. Ethan shut the camera off for awhile since the surgery took a little while.

“oh my gosh I have a great idea.” Ethan said turning to me.

“oh no what?” I asked him laughing.

“we’re going to prank Grayson in his delusional state and make him believe you’re my girlfriend and not his” Ethan said turning on the camera to get it for the video. 

“Ethan that isn’t very nice, your poor brother.” I said laughing as he started to tell the camera his idea.

“no it’s not nice but it will be extremely funny so we’re doing it.” Ethan said running a hand through the hair that was sticking out of his hat.

I laughed returning back to my magazine while we waited for the nurse to come get us. After awhile the nurse came out telling us Grayson was awake and doing well.

“I’m so excited.” Ethan said turning on the camera.

We walked in and Grayson looked higher than a kite. I started to giggle making him smile.

“what’s up bud?” Ethan said.

“hey dawg.” Gray mumbles.

I couldn’t help but laugh at his facial expressions.

“Hi.” He says smiling at me.

I wave hi to him still laughing.

“can I roll down my sleeve? it’s kinda chilly.” Gray asked the nurse making both Ethan and I laugh.

Grayson brings his feet together on the chair.

“what are you doing?” I asked standing beside him.

“i’m doing yoga.” He mumbles.

“yoga oh really?” I ask him laughing.

“come do yoga with me?” He says grabbing my hand.

“but Gray why would she do yoga with you when she’s my girlfriend?” Ethan asked taking my hand from Grayson and holding it in his own.

“what nuh uh.” Grayson says looking at us.

“yeah bro don’t you remember, you introduced us.” Ethan said putting his arm around me.

“you’re joking.” Gray says reaching towards me.

“I’m not am I y/n?” Ethan says kissing my cheek.

I laugh and put my arms around Ethan’s neck and nuzzling him.

“we’re totally in love.” I said to Gray.

“awwh.” Grayson says pouting.

The doctor told us we could take him home so I got on one side of Gray and Ethan got the other. We took him to the car but he was staring at me the whole time making me laugh.

“you’re really pretty.” Grayson said smiling.

“thank you.” I said laughing at him.

“Ethan your girlfriend is pretty. You have pretty hair can I touch it?” Gray asks reaching up and touching my hair.

Ethan reached up and smacked Grayson’s hand away earning a glare from Gray. We finally got him in the car and I crawled beside him and helped him buckle his seat belt.

“you’re so nice.” Grayson said putting his hand on my cheek.

I laughed sitting beside him and buckling my seat belt as well.

“why am I single?” Grayson asks.

Ethan starts busting up laughing from the front seat.

“awe Gray.” I said putting my hand on his.

“Ethan has a girlfriend and I don’t mom why am I single?” Grayson asks leaning up to talk to his mom.

“I don’t know, why are you single?” His mom asks playing along.

“nobody thinks i'mmmmmmmmmm good enough.” He says frowning.

Ethan was still laughing getting all of this on camera but I couldn’t anymore, he looked so sad.

“Gray we were just kidding, i’m all yours.” I said grabbing his hand and kissing it.

“you’re joking?” He said again the gauze almost falling out of his mouth.

“no jokes. I love you and only you.” I said trying not to laugh at his mouth hanging wide open.

“oh yeah prove it, kiss me.” He said leaning over to me.

“Gray I can’t you just got your wisdom teeth out.” I said pushing his shoulder.

“then you’re lying.” He said spitting his gauze out.

I leaned over and very lightly kissed his lips.

“woooooo. suck it Ethan. I have a girlfriend.” Grayson said taking out his phone to take a picture of us.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the adorable boy I loved.

short and crappy I’m sorry lol. butttt I have a part two to the Thomas and Newt imagine and a couple of others in my inbox so stay tuned! THANK YOU FOR ALMOST 400 FOLLOWERS AHHHHHH YOU GUYS ROCK!!

home frustrations.

Originally posted by iminlovewithderekhale

derek hale x reader

prompt: derek come backs and seeks you out.

warnings: swearing + smut.

A/N: just a little fyi, this is very loosely edited but fuck, daddy derek is back!! my husband, my lifeline, MY HEART!!!!

the continuous tapping of your pen against your notepad sounded around your small bedroom while your music played quietly in the background of your thoughts. you needed to study yet your mind was elsewhere entirely.

all of your friends were out probably getting themselves killed but refused to let you join the fun - all because of the spanish test you had in the morning. it was stupid but you couldn’t defy your alpha and what scott said went, no questions asked, no matter how much you pleaded your case.

your tapping quickly stopped as you heard a strong knocking at your door downstairs. sighing, you closed your notebook with a thud and laid your pen on top of it before you stood up and headed down the stairs. the knocking came louder as you got closer, almost impatient and demanding.

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Pretty Baby

Originally posted by chyogi

Character(s): Reader X Hyungwon

Genre: Smut

Warning(s): orgasm denial/edging, praise!kink, vanilla rough smut

Length: 1.6K (a drabble but not rlly a drabble)

Summary: In which Chae Hyungwon gets rough sometimes.


Hyungwon likes routine. He likes constants, things he can count on to be there at the beginning and end of every day. He likes naps during the day where he can feel you snuggling into his neck. He likes cooking Italian lunches with you as you both dance to music, the smell of basil and tomatoes in the warm air. He likes spending Saturday nights with you at home, watching old movies on television, when you tell him that the Bee Movie is a ‘contemporary masterpiece’. He likes the smell that wafts off your body at night when you press close to him and whisper sweet nothings into his ear as you both drift off.

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Don't Mess with What is Mine(Jerome Valeska x Chubby Shy Reader)

Originally posted by bonniebird

Prompt: The reader and Jerome go to the club so Jerome can do business with some guys, while you walk around alone a guy is flirty with you and says inappropriate things to you, which doesn’t make Jerome react nicely.

Warning: Murder, mention of sex, I think some cursing.

Note: I love this little ginger asshole and would feel like a very protective boyfriend especially if his girlfriend was shy.


It really was a surprise to many of your friends and family when they found out you were dating Jerome Valeska. It was also a very big surprise to the public when the headline came out “PSYCHO CRIMINAL JEROME VALESKA MANAGES TO STEAL THE HEART OF SHY MRS. Y/L/N” You didn’t really mind being called the psycho’s girlfriend since you knew deep down Jerome was good. Also to many they said that you managed to make the maniac go soft but that theory was discarded very fast after Jerome went on a killing spree. But he was very sweet to you. God he loved you so much. He knew how shy you could be sometimes so he would always act so sweet around you. He really didn’t want to scare you off so he tried to be the best boyfriend there ever was.

Then on one Saturday afternoon, Jerome asked you if you would like to join him in going to the club with him since he had to do some business with some guys. He knew the club wasn’t really your scene but he wanted to ask you just incase. What really surprised him was when you agreed to join him in going.

So now it was later that night and you arrived at the club. Jerome accompanied you inside. One minute you walked in there was a lot of noise and people, which really wasn’t your favorite, but you still put on a smile on your face. That was something Jerome loved about you how you could make any situation, negative or not, positive. So when you were inside the club Jerome lead you to the guys he needed to talk to.

“Well hello Jerome. Who’s this lovely lady with you today. She is way to beautiful for you.” One guy spoke. His comment made you blush a little which Jerome noticed, and didn’t appreciate.

“This is y/n. My girlfriend, note MY girlfriend.” Jerome spat back.

“Don’t worry I won’t be stealing your girl. Now let’s get to business.”

Before Jerome started talking with the guys whispered in your ear “Hey doll there a booth in the back of the club, why don’t you go and save it for us ok? Then when I’m done here I can go buy a couple drinks. Would you like that.” You nodded and headed over to the booth Jerome was talking about. You took a seat at one side of the booth and shortly after a guy sat beside you.

“Hey sweetcheeks what’s your name.”

“My name is y/n and if you don’t mind I was saving that seat for my boyfriend.”

“Well I don’t see his name on it. Anyway how about you forget about your little boyfriend and let a real man show you a good time. I know exactly how to make a woman moan.” He moved closer into your face and moved his hand up your thigh.

“No-o thank you-u. Ummm I have to use the restroom if you excuse me.”

“Ok sweetheart don’t be too long.” he said winking at you. You quickly went to go find Jerome. The guy was lucky Jerome wasn’t there when he was flirting with you he would have been dead in five seconds flat. You spotted Jerome over at the bar ordering both of you drinks. You walked up next to him so quietly he didn’t even noticed. So you pulled on his sleeve to gain his attention.

“Oh hey sweetcheeks is everything ok?” Jerome asked. You shook your head and moved to whisper in his ear “After I sat in the booth, this guy just sat next to me. He started to flirt with me and made me feel really uncomfortable. Can we just leave?” You could see Jerome expression turned into a little jealous but mostly anger how dare someone make his sweet little y/n uncomfortable, that guy was going to pay.

“Yes of course doll we can leave but I have to use the restroom. Wait here a minute will you?” You nodded. Instead of heading to the bathroom Jerome headed over to the guy. When Jerome reached the booth he sat across from the guy. The guy was about to speak until Jerome interrupted. “So you’re the guy flirting with my girl. Let me just say it pal I don’t really appreciate it, you know. Hearing some lousy drunk idiot making an attempt to steal my girl isn’t the way I wanted to spend the night.”

“Oh so your the minx’s little boyfriend. Don’t worry she wasn’t interested. Well I might have persuaded her to come home with me, show her what sex is with a real man not some freak show like you, but sadly you showed up.” This guy knew exactly how to bush Jerome’s buttons. “Obviously you have had sex with her,” the guy leaned into the table. “tell me some tips, what makes her scream, what’s her favorite position?”

“Alright you asshole, stop talking about my girlfriend like that, she’s mine and if you make one more comment, your dead.” Jerome pulled out a knife hiding it under the table so the guy couldn’t see it.

“Oh sure what are you going to do.” That was the last straw. Jerome walked out of his seat and came right in the guy’s face, the knife facing his neck.

“This should teach you not to mess with things that are mine.” That being said Jerome stabbed the neck right into the guy’s neck. Before anyone noticed the scene Jerome walked over to you. “Alright I’m ready to go.” he said and he intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Thanks.” you whispered into his ear, while pecking his cheek softly, making him blush a bit. As you moved your head away from his face, you flicked your eyes over to the booth in the corner so he knew what you were talking about.

“Anytime, doll. Now let’s go home.” After he said that you both headed home, hands intertwined.

Originally posted by thelllina