hip pocket

When not stretching out behind the desk in the Oval Office, Kennedy defined the Ivy League casual style of the early ’60s. On land, this often meant blazers in navy blue wool or brown Harris tweed, paired with khakis in the summer or gray flannel trousers in the cooler months. The sport jackets were often cut like his suits with slim notch lapels, 2-button fronts, welted breast pockets, jetted hip pockets, and 4-button cuffs. Underneath, the shirts and ties were the same as his suits – white shirts with blue-ish ties.  His shoes were typically off-white canvas sneakers with white laces, worn with thin socks in either white, blue, or black. On sockless days, he would wear dark leather penny loafers that was usually paired with a sweater and white boat slacks. Around his various vacation homes, he would wear velvet Albert slippers with his initials in gold.

lesbianedgeworth  asked:

teenaged trucy in her young self/zak's color pallet?

This is what you asked for right?

Haha, anyway~

@pinksweatergettingbetter has a younger and older Trucy swapped with Zak which are really nice. 

Title: I Do… Not

Warnings: Swears

Request: Ooooh a William Nylander pleaseeee :) Whatever is fine :) AND Could you do a Mitch Marner or William Nylander imagine?

Note: Ahhh… Why am I writing all these open ended stories recently? If anyone wants a part 2, let me know and I’ll add it to the list.

Other Parts: (Part Two)

Links: My Master List  and My Current Requests

You could hear the faint chatter of all your friends and family gathering on the lawn. 20 minutes; only 20 minutes and you would be marrying the love of your life. You were chatting with one of your bridesmaids in the bridal suite when a familiar flash of blond hair walked past the tiny window in the door. A smile pulled at your lips, jumping up and dashing to the door.

“Willy!” you called after the retreating figure, cracking open the door of your dressing room. He stopped dead in his tracks, turning slowly to face you. “Where are you going? The wedding is that way.” you grinned, pointing down the hall.

“Wha… uh… I was- I was just leaving.” he stammered, nervously running a hand through his hair.

“Leaving? Why?” you asked, furrowing your brow in confusion. “The ceremony is still twenty minutes away.”

“I just, uh… I think I’m coming down with something.” he explained, quickly. His normally bright grin was nonexistent. “I don’t want to ruin your big day.” he said, offering you a weak smile.

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A Good Day

Peter Parker x Reader

As part of my ‘yeah, sure, lets do this,’ requests.

Summary: A good morning full of sunshine, laughter, flowers, shoulders, and swing sets. Words: 1.5k. FLUFF.

Requested Prompts by the remarkable, fantastic, and talented sweetheart @spiderling–parker : “How are you so damn photogenic?”“I brought you your coffee.” “Put me down! ”

Gorgeous moodboard by the multi-talented and glorious @spiderling–parker

Today was a good day
, you decided, punctuating the thought with a soft smile, eyelashes relaxed and comfortable lazing on the bed of your cheeks. After nearly a full week of dark rainy days and cold, cloudy nights, it was just so nice to be sitting out in the open air, morning sun warming you to the core, spreading the skin of your upturned face with buttery rays. You could still smell the rain, wafting from puddles and dewy grass; the perfume of moist earth and wet flowers hanging in the still-thick air, carried on the gentle breeze blowing through leaves on the trees whispering their good mornings to anyone listening. Little, excited birds singing to you in the same tune as the laughing children playing on slides and swings behind you.

You drew in a deep breath of that heady, good air, noticing that there was a new, familiar note to it as it reached your lungs; it was heavier, but the same: sunshine, warm honey, and musky thunder storms. You heard the sound of a shutter closing, lips curling and lashes fluttering open as his voice greeted your ears.

“Man,” his voice warm and fitting the day, “How are you so damn photogenic?” His brows were scrunched over the top of his view finder, fingers of one hand awkwardly posed around the camera he had started carrying around with him after he’d found it tucked away in a box of his Uncle’s things.

“I’m not really, you’re just a real deal photographer,” but you were blushing because you knew what he was actually saying, “you make me photogenic.” From underneath his camera you could see a crooked smile on his thin lips because he knew what you were actually saying, too, grinning as his thumb pushed at the advance lever and his finger pressed down on the shutter release and with another click he’d captured that light blush and shy smile.

Today is a good day.

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Retrouvailles - Sirius Black x Reader

Request: @gigglebers Hi. Firstly I absolutely loved Starry Nights. It was fantastic and I just didnt want that story to end! Thank you for that one! I had one request for an older Sirius and didnt want that story to end! Thank you for that one! I had one request for an older Sirius and frankly I do not want anyone but you to.write it :) so here goes. If possible, an older Sirius x reader where the reader’s patronus changed while he was in Azkaban. And they discover it together later. Need a happy ending pls!! Thank you…waiting for your stories
Retrouvailles: The joy of meeting or finding someone again after a long separation; rediscovering. 
Warnings: My English, language, gif/image aren’t mine. Credits to their original owners. Also, I’m sorry if this is not that great but this week has been hell.
Word Count~1.5k

Pending Requests

You woke up feeling restless. The previous night had been an awful one. No, it had been like every other night since that day. You would go to bed, trying to get some sleep only to be proven wrong once again by all of the tossing and turning. And then, even if you did sleep, nightmares would be waiting for you, to torment you. Eventually, you would wake up and grab a shower and begin another day. But that didn’t matter.
Because each day felt like the same. You may have had one thousand, or even ten, days to live but they all felt like you were playing the same routine on repeat. Nothing would be new tomorrow. Nothing would change, nothing would be better. You would go on with your life, alone and forgotten by yourself.
And he wouldn’t come home tomorrow. And you would still cry and you would still hope and you would still be left heartbroken. And that was how your life was and would be. It felt stupid. You felt stupid for not telling him, not making him aware of your feelings. For waiting too long. For thinking that there was such thing as the so-called ‘right moment’. For not being bold enough. Courageous enough. For not saying 'to hell with it’. For letting him go. Shaking your head, you took a sip of your coffee, the aroma of cinnamon sending you back twelve years ago, a ghost of that smile returning for a second. 

You were always in love with the crisp air and the foggy mornings, the cloudy skies and the light rain falling on the red and orange leaves. You didn’t exactly know why. It was something special. The warm, cozy feeling that melted your heart, the oversized sweaters, the crackling fire, the huge amount of chocolate in all forms, the cinnamon rolls, the perfectly sprinkled cappuccino, the scented candles, the sound of the rain late at night accompanied by soft music, the scent of the earth after, the longing glances, the tricks of the light, the hugs that lasted a bit longer.
You were on top of the Astronomy Tower- it had the best view- with a fluffy blanket wrapped around you, a cup of hot cappuccino in your hand and you stood still. You were waiting for the sun to rise. To see it. To feel that there was hope despite everything that was happening. Normally, you preferred midnight instead of sunrise but you could help yourself. Out of the blue, you felt your cup becoming heavier. You snapped out of your thoughts only to look at the cup and be surprised. A pair of stormy grey eyes were piercing yours as he took a sip of your drink, provoking you to react. You softly smiled and chuckled at his childish behavior.
“Nothing?” he questioned puzzled. You shook your head. He rolled his eyes and unwrapped the blanket only to wrap it around the both of you, moments after. The proximity. His sugary and spicy scent was all over the place.
“What do you want to do? After Hogwarts?” he asked after a while of comfortable silence. You thought about it for a second until you realized that you had no idea what but you knew with who you wanted your future to be. With your friends that had become family. With him, that could never become what you wanted him to be.
“As long as I have you guys, I’m fine” you answered him truthfully. He smiled and it warmed your heart. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, his breath falling hot directly upon your sensitive skin, as you tried to relax your mind with your coffee. Not so much luck. Unconsciously, he placed his hand on your knee as the other one was wrapped around your waist. He was so warm.
Maybe you should tell him. Maybe you should finally admit it.
Yet you didn’t. You stayed silent as the sun was rising and your coffee was getting cold. Maybe another time. 

You couldn’t cope with all the things that had just happened. One moment, you were out, crossing the street holding a book and the other, you were frozen because in front of you stood Sirius. Or the shadow of the man he used to be.
You heard the noise that your book made when it fell on the floor. You heard the stillness. You knew that your heart had to beat otherwise you would die. You knew it. But you couldn’t do it.
He looked… Different. He was thinner and his cheekbones were sharper, his eyes were no longer twinkling with mischievousness, his hair was longer, his whole figure was shaky. But you didn’t care.
You knew that he was innocent. You knew that he would never do something like that. He would prefer to die. Betrayal wasn’t in his blood.
Without thinking about it, you rushed towards him and enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug. His hands were immediately wrapped around you, clinging onto you tighter than ever before. He still felt like home. He still felt like it was him but different. Your heart still skipped a beat. Your knees still went weak.
Before long, you realized that you were kind of in the middle of the town which wasn’t very clever. He surely wasn’t just a free man. Azkaban never set anyone free. Didn’t matter that he was innocent.
You reluctantly pulled away and picked up the book as you took in his appearance a bit more. He was an escapee. There were so many things you wanted to tell him. 'I have missed you like hell’, 'I know you are innocent’, 'I am in love with you’ yet the only thing that came out was a pained and anxious:
“Are you stupid? Showing up like that… In the middle of the town!” You reprimanded him but your voice gave away how awfully worried you were and how much you cared.
He gave you a soft smile that told you he remembered you being like that years ago.
“Some things, don’t change love” he gently quoted. Oh, you knew. Your feelings hadn’t changed. For over more than twelve years, there was nobody else. Just him and his crazy ways.
You shook your head, gesturing him to keep moving until you reached your house and got inside. You couldn’t think. He was back. He was here. Again. That kept repeating itself inside your mind over and over again.
Once you had locked and checked the windows, you turned to face him. Your face became a bit more stoic.
“Before you begin, can we sent a Patronus to Remus and tell him that things are alright?” he asked you and… Wait. That would mean that Remus knew. And you didn’t. You arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow in the most intimidating way you could muster and gave him a very forced smile. He knew that he was in trouble because that look never failed to scare him. You pulled your wand out of the hip pocket of your jeans and whispered the message you wanted your Patronus to carry, before casting the spell to summon your eagle. But your eagle never came.
Before you, was a dog. Not any dog. Padfoot. Your Patronus had become Padfoot. It had changed. But that only happened when you truly lov- oh.
You didn’t dare to look at him. He was your Patronus. That was awkward, so you sent the message to Remus but after that, you didn’t move or breathe.
If you had been looking at him, you would see that the surprise in his eyes had turned into a bunch of feelings before settling for a soft gaze and a relieved smile.
“Bathroom is upstairs and to your left. I’ll make you something to eat” you informed him once you had regained a bit of your composure.
“How long?” he simply asked you but you weren’t ready to admit it.
“I hadn’t cast that spell-” you began but he cut you off.
“How long, sweetheart?”. His soft and gentle voice was too honest for you to defy it.
“Fourteen years” and a bit more than that. Hey. Hold. It. Had he called you… Sweetheart? What happened?
He felt like he had won the world. Because he did. He had won you. And then he felt guilty for leaving you. For never telling you how much you meant to him, how much he wanted to hold you in his arms and watch the sunrise together. He had thought that he would do it when the time would be right. But he too learned that something like that didn’t exist. So, he stopped thinking.
“Can I?” he didn’t even finish his sentence. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs caressing your cheekbones, as he leaned and pressed his lips against yours. Never in a million years had you imagined that the scene unraveling itself in front of you would be actually true and not a dream. But he was here and this was real. And you melted under his touch that you craved all these years.

tags: @kapolisradomthoughts @orionsirivsblack @nadinissavage @sirius-black-deserved-better @bestnannyeverfic

What do I do when I’m in a randomly shitty emotional mood? Write about one half of my OTP comforting the other one in a random shitty emotional mood, apparently. It’s certainly one coping mechanism. *shrugs*


Percy’s not the most observant boyfriend in the world when he’s working on a project, but when he realizes he hasn’t heard from Vex in nearly two days, even he knows something’s wrong. There’s a bit of panic when his text goes unanswered for more than four hours, and a bit more when her phone goes straight to voicemail. But a text to Vax relieves the worst of his fears. She was on the couch binging Miss Fisher when I left a few hours ago. She’s in a mood. If it’s your fault, fix it.

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25 Chandlerisms to Celebrate the Crime Fiction Icon

“Dead men are heavier than broken hearts.”

“She gave me a smile I could feel in my hip pocket.”

“I’m an occasional drinker, the kind of guy who goes out for a beer and wakes up in Singapore with a full beard.”

“She smelled the way the Taj Mahal looks by moonlight.”

“Some days I feel like playing it smooth. Some days I feel like playing it like a waffle iron.”

“I needed a drink, I needed a lot of life insurance, I needed a vacation, I needed a home in the country. What I had was a coat, a hat and a gun. I put them on and went out of the room.”

“From 30 feet away she looked like a lot of class. From 10 feet away she looked like something made up to be seen from 30 feet away.”

“The streets were dark with something more than night.”

“He looked about as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a slice of angel food.”

“The girl slept on, motionless, in that curled-up looseness achieved by some women and all cats.”

“He had a battered face that looked as if it had been hit by everything but the bucket of a dragline.”

“Alcohol is like love. The first kiss is magic, the second is intimate, the third is routine. After that you take the girl’s clothes off.”

“It was a blonde. A blonde to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained-glass window.”

“When in doubt, have a man come through the door with a gun in his hand.”

“A city [Los Angeles] with all the personality of a paper cup.”

“She was as cute as a washtub.”

“The kid’s face had as much expression as a cut of round steak and was about the same color.”

“The voice got as cool as a cafeteria dinner.”

“I was neat, clean, shaved and sober, and I didn’t care who knew it.”

“The corridor which led to it had a smell of old carpet and furniture oil and the drab anonymity of a thousand shabby lives.”

“I felt like an amputated leg.”

“On the dance floor half a dozen couples were throwing themselves around with the reckless abandon of a night watchman with arthritis.”

“His smile was as stiff as a frozen fish.”

“Please don’t get up,’ she said in a voice like the stuff they use to line summer clouds with.”

“The detective must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man.”

Post (damn) it

Author’s note: A VEEEEERY LATE BIRTHDAY PRESENT FOR THE CUTEST PERSON EVEEEEEEER hi @the-floofinator, I’m looking at you~! ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ Hopefully you can still love me uwu 

Summary: Seven’s pasted post-its all over his place and Yoosung is not amused.

While being very aware of the fact that they were anything but a normal couple, Yoosung still couldn’t stop himself from being very surprised at the overwhelming amount of post-its scattered all over Seven’s place. Not only were said post-its very randomly placed, they all had the exact same message:

pls love me uwu

A normal boyfriend would probably write something along the lines of, “I love you,” but unfortunately, Seven did the exact opposite (literally) and Yoosung could almost hear him say it in his trademark trolling voice with this lame smirk on his handsome face.

Was Seven even home? Yoosung had no idea. Today was not a special day either, or something, because for a minute he started questioning whether he had forgotten one of their anniversaries, or worse, Seven’s birthday, but today was pretty much like any other day. He had just gotten home from school and was about to call his boyfriend when he found the first post-it on the front door, followed by a few on the floor and the walls of the hallway and yeah, he should probably take a picture of this.

There were post-its friggin’ everywhere. On the couch, the kitchen table, the rest of the walls, the fridge, cabinets, even on the screens of his extra computers, what even. This must have taken at least five hours. And Yoosung was stupid enough to collect all of them to see if one of them was different.

He half-expected one of them to be blank, or read, “SUCKAAAAHHH” but no.

There were even post-its under the couch and Yoosung was about to lose his mind. This had to be one of Seven’s games. It wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest if he had hung up a hidden camera somewhere and was now watching him in his room, laughing his ass off. Yoosung groaned quietly to himself and crawled under the couch, determined to find every last one of those damn post-its.

It did get pretty tiring after a while, though, so he decided to go get some juice out of the fridge… only to find post-its pasted to every single product. Groaning once again, Yoosung opened up the freezer, ignoring the post-it that was on there, too, of course, and found more post-its.

“Oh my god,” he mumbled to himself and facepalmed.

He had to start thinking outside the box: look behind the computers, between the cushions of the couch, in the bathroom and yes, in the toilet because Seven was the shittiest piece of shit he knew. He was seriously this close to losing his mind, but he was not going to lose this game, so after rolling up his sleeve and taking a breath, he reached for the post-it that was floating in the dirty toilet water, hoping that this one would contain a different message.

Unfortunately his dream was crushed into tiny little pieces as the wet and almost torn piece of paper still read, “pls love me uwu

That’s it.


“Yes, dear?”

Yoosung actually screeched and turned around to see Seven leaning against the doorway with his hip, hands in his pockets, looking at him innocently as if he hadn’t done anything wrong. “I hate you.”

Seven raised a challenging eyebrow. “Did you read the post-its? I thought my message was pretty clear. I was gonna say, “Do I have to spell it out for you?” but I guess that,” a chortle and Yoosung’s left eye twitched. “would be unnecessary.”

The wet post-it fell to the floor as Yoosung pointed a very angry and a very wet finger at him. “What’s the big idea? Why would you do this to me?”

“Because I wanna be loved by my cutie patootie boyfriend!” Seven sang dramatically and grabbed Yoosung’s wrist, dragging him out of the bathroom. “Also lowkey wanted to find out if I could annoy you with a bunch of post-its. Sometimes you make it way too easy for me and I feel a little sorry for you, but it’s just way too much fun.”

Yoosung tried to say something, he really did, but found himself absolutely flabbergasted. Instead he let himself get dragged back to the living room where he was pushed onto the couch and had Seven looming over him.


“So, what…?” Yoosung replied lamely, trying to hide the fact that he really enjoyed their closeness.

“Do you love me?”

Uh-oh. Yoosung slowly felt his entire face going red from top to bottom, probably going all the way down to his neck as well. Even the tip of his ears felt hot, because he hadn’t even considered taking the message on those post-its seriously, but now that Seven was asking it, using his low voice, touching his knee with his warm hands and looking at him over the rim of his glasses, Yoosung couldn’t help but feel like dying.

He did love Seven, but never had the courage to say it out loud. Let alone with their noses almost touching and their lips so close that they were breathing in each other’s air.

The hand on his knee was still there, fingers moving back and forth ever so slightly which made his muscles spasm. Seven’s smirk widened, broke eye contact and Yoosung followed his gaze to his knee, blinking in confusion. The hand crawled to the underside of his knee and Yoosung jumped, pressing his back against the couch, trying to get away from the ticklish touch.

“I’m hurt, Yoosungie. You took way too long. Guess you have to make it up to me by letting me hear your cute laughter.”

Shit. “Seven, no.”

Seven wasn’t listening to him and simply grabbed the back of his other knee, pulling on both legs so Yoosung ended up in a very awkward angle on the couch, pretty much unable to do anything other than kick his captivated legs. And beg. Beg not to get the absolute shit tickled out of him-

Too late. Seven had both legs in a headlock and slipped his hand under Yoosung’s shirt, kneading his sides and ribs, making Yoosung guffaw and throw his head back. He flailed around like a penguin, his brain too fuzzy from their proximity to produce any useful signals, so all he could do was squirm around on the couch and get even more stuck between the cushions and Seven’s body.

“You’re so adorable when you’re getting tickled,” Seven chuckled and wiggled his fingers over his boyfriend’s trembling stomach, leaving him absolutely breathless.

“S-shut up!” Yoosung squealed and bucked his hips in a fruitless attempt to get rid of the annoying fingers that were driving him insane. He couldn’t function, he couldn’t think; he could merely cover his face to hide his bright red cheeks and goofy grin and try to roll over to one side, but Seven was onto him and kept switching sides so he would be in constant anticipation.

At some point Seven had thrown his legs back onto the couch and was now straddling him like some stupid pro. Over the past few months he had become a very good and ruthless tickler, but Yoosung was forever in denial about it, thinking (mostly hoping) that there was some way out of it.

Too bad he was wrong.

“Do you love me, Yoosung?”

“Seven, I’m— No! Please, dohon’t! Stop it, stop it, stop iiiiit!”

Poor Yoosung died a thousand painful deaths when Seven blew a loud raspberry on his stomach, burying his nose in every little crevice he could find while holding down his hips, sneakily squeezing them, too. Seven laughed along with him as he playfully nibbled around his midriff and Yoosung was beyond saving now, but he could still make out Seven mumbling something against his skin,

“Of course I know that you love me. Zen told me that you confessed your love for me to him when you were totally wasted.”

Yoosung shrieked in response because Seven decided to emphasize his point by squeezing his thigh. “You knew all along!”

“Well, duh.”

“I will freaking end y-yoooooooou!”

“Yes, talk dirty to me, babe.”

Freshman Orientation ( Meet Jerome)

@preciousluv35 this thing gon be good I can feel it.

“You’d think these mother fuckers never seen porn or something. I never understood that. They’d rather watch and potentially fuck up a man’s good time. Like fuck.” Holly gave me a look like she knew exactly what I was saying and where I was coming from. Holly, she had been in my hip pocket all day. Crazy part is I didn’t mind. It didn’t even feel like we had just met today. The way her legs were shaking it was like I knew her body. Her vibe was on point too. But shit clearly, we weren’t the only ones that hit it off. My bro was getting topped off in the breeze way and it was only orientation. Perhaps the stars were all aligned just right. “Holly, you wanna lose the group?”

“You read my mind, didn’t you?” Her voice was sweeter than the smoothest melody I had ever heard.

“If you say so. Where you want to go?”

“Anywhere but here with them.” Holly smiled at me bashfully.

“It’s whatever.” I thought for a second. “How bout I walk you back to your dorm to get ready for later?”

“Ok, I mean we are way across the campus, that’ll give us a little time to talk and really get acquainted.” She looked giving me the side eye.

“So, what made you choose Southern?” She asked me.

“Man if I tell you, you’d probably deem me a fool.”

“You think so?”


“Try me.”

“We have time, so I guess I should start from the beginning.”

“Boy, I’m listening. Go ahead.”

Shit I met Darryl in the first, no second grade. We actually had a fight over some damn Pokémon cards. I’ll never forget it was a holographic one too. The teacher separated us and ended up calling our parents out to the school. I knew my ass was about to be handed to me to. 9 times out of 10 it was going to be right in front of the class too. Shitting bricks for 2 hours was the absolute worst. After being tortured for 2 hours, the classroom door opened. I didn’t even look up, just heard the class go “Ooooooohhhhhhhh”. I knew this was going to be bad. My mom pierced my soul with her eyes as she approached Mrs. Fletcher. Soon as she motioned for me to come up to the desk the door swung open again. Darryl’s ole girl approached the teacher’s desk as well with an obvious scowl. It brought me a little touch of vengeance knowing he was in the same boat as me. Her face changed as she reached the desk. “Beverly?” She said, directing her attention to my mom. “Sandra?” My mom shot back. They hugged so tight and the mood instantly changed. We had just moved back to Miami from Orlando. Come to find out Ms. Sandra was my mom’s best friend back in high school. They got so caught up in their thing we had gotten lost in the shuffle. From then things for Darryl and I were completely different. The next evening mom and I had dinner over at their house. I was sure not to bring any toys, furthermore no cards. I was reluctant to play with him, still had a little heat on my chest for him. But shit at that age nothing lasted long. The more our moms hung, so too did we. Wasn’t long before we became play cousins. We began to play on all our little league teams together, where we both outshined our competition. Just I was on offense mostly and he was on defense. Shit, by the time we were freshmen in high school our moms couldn’t tell who stayed where. He was my brother and nothing or no one would change that. Also, by this time we’d created one hell a buzz from our performance. Darryl also had the help of his pedigree. His dad was the late legendary Benny Green.  Darryl having his stature and seemingly his talent Darryl was on the radar of D1 schools already. All he had to do is put up decent numbers, which were all but given. Me, I didn’t have the pedigree but my skill set was unique in its own right. Freshman year I played JV while D. played Varsity. Two games in I was moved up though. I didn’t see much playing time (PT) but I did get to learn the schemes and playbooks. Darryl was starting mid-way thru the season, while I was in the weight room and playbooks. I hated not seeing the field, but I understood the process. Already talented, I grew stronger and bigger. By the time playoffs were in the mention I had moved up the depth chart. I had put on 15lbs of muscle, I had a firm understanding of the playbook. All I needed was an opportunity to showcase my ability at this level.

When Marcus, the starting running back went down Mason couldn’t keep pace. We had our seat locked for the playoffs but we wouldn’t last long if something didn’t change. On a whim, I was shoveled into the last game of the regular season. This was no pushover opponent either. Hell, in Miami only a handful of schools could be deemed a push over. Despite the butterflies, I went in on a mission. I ripped that shit. I had 172 yards and 2 touchdowns in my first game action. It was clear that the dynamic duo would still reign for the next few years. Darryl and I would lead our school to two state titles and ourselves, we had the pick of schools really. We concocted a plan to stay together no matter what happened. He was my brother.

In school, he got more of the spotlight given his background. Even more for the fact that he really didn’t mess with the school girls. That left the girl’s imaginations to run wild. He was mister perfect, mister untouchable. In a way that only helped my stock with the ladies. They would try to befriend me to get to him. But they ended up in my bed in the process. Darryl had a sweet deal. I would have done the same thing in his position. So that was high school, for the most part. That is until shit went left as fuck. We’d early enrolled at UF in their spring semester, this was so we could get into the college way of things and as well have an immediate impact on the field. Shit was going as planned and was looking promising. Then there was graduation. That’s when my bro became the talk of the sports world. I knew of his arrangement and with Ms. Jones and how Ms. Tarver was sweating him too. But, the brawl that ensued at graduation was just the fuel the tabloids needed to tarnish Darryl’s reputation. Within a week he was no longer welcomed at the University of Florida. Not only that, all the coaches and schools  across the nation who’d professed their love for him and their want to have him join their institution had all but disappeared into a cloud of dark smoke. When the world turned their back on him, I kept my promise and we went where we were still a valued commodity.

“So you gave up a D1 ride to come to the SWAC (Southwestern Athletic Conference)” Holly was stunned as her building came into view.

“Yeah, I did.” I knew she was scratching her head. “See the thing is I believe in our talent, I know it will get us a seat at the table at the next level. We just have to show the world.”

“Hmph, I don’t know if you made the right decision, but I respect you for sticking by your brother.” She gave me a discerning smile as she wrestled with what I had just divulged. “What a gentleman walking me to the door.”

“Yeah?” I said just as it swung open and a woman began screaming at me! The rules here were so different from UF. There, it  was nothing to really impede fraternization between sexes, other than we couldn’t share a room.  I was a pro at diffusing situations, especially with the ladies! Once I had her calm I took my leave. Holly was trying hard to be a bad girl…. I really hoped she take my advice and stop trying to be like her girl. Something must have happened to make her take such a drastic turn because it was obvious this was a new game for her. But could I convince her that being with me was better than being a thot? I grabbed my phone as I was passing through the courtyard.

Me: Hey Thanks for kicking it with me, I enjoyed you.

Holly: Oh really Mr. Big Shot.

Me: Damn why I gotta be all that?

Holly: Cuz… I said so

Me: Damn Homie

Holly: No damn, Naw I enjoyed making me cum too…

Holly: I mean I enjoyed my time too

Me: Ha, you nasty

Holly: You talking?

Me: Man whateva, It’s 4:30 now, pick you up around 8?

Holly: Uh huh, make it 7:45…. I got something for you

Me: Oh really now…. Bet

The Sorcerer and Her Son

Paring: Kylo Ren/Reader

Tags: female reader, female pronouns, AU - magic, AU - medieval, AU - gods and goddesses, tailoring, sewing, religious imagery and symbolism, male-female friendship, friends to lovers, nicknames, POV reader, POV Kylo Ren, fluff, angst.

Summary: In the small village on the edge of the forest, the tailor’s daughter cannot stand by and watch her mother’s ailing health lead her her death. Taking it upon herself to ask of the help of the resident witch, and her son, she must follow the contract to heal her mother. But, all magic, comes at a price, and sometimes, that price is knowing a little too much about things that are unsaid…

Word Count: 5,431

Posting Date:  2017-05-06

Current Date: 2017-06-12

Originally posted by somethingalongtheselines

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notesfromtheidiotbox  asked:

Dear Drunk Doc, Tracer and Emily go on a cruise and one night are seated at dinner at the same table as Haruka and Michiru. What happens?

Michiru is not sure, precisely, how any of this happened. When one purchases a stateroom aboard a luxury ship, one assumes they will spend their time….alone. HEr class was generally content to do only the required amount of mingling. 

It is almost as if this bouncy butch, clad in the most horrifying hawaiian shirt (we are en route to to the Galapagos) cargo shorts (She told Haruka they were disallowed unless on hikes) and some strange glowing thing on her chest (her transformation rod brushed her hip inside her pocket, as if telling her to be careful what she called strange), did not seem to realize that they were not meant to be in the private pool lounge for the suite class, although her redheaded companion–tall, slim, and generally quite pretty–looked around nervously, leaning in her ear, calling her name (which was Lena, it seemed) but the girl was too excited, so animated she almost leapt off her chair as she talked to Haruka. 

Michiru sighed. Life was about suffering. 

“I like your shirt!” Haruka said. 

Okay but not about this much suffering. 

Michiru would not have called herself a good person, not in any capacity, and she was willing to own that terrible part of herself if it stopped this girl from talking to Haruka about where she could procure this hideous shirt, and let them in peace to their gentle canoodling. 

But she had a cocktail now, some horrifying carved out pineapple that matched too perfectly Haruka’s alcoholic milkshake they called a cocktail, and it seemed that no one would come to their rescue. She would have to alert the staff that they were in the incorrect class, herself. 

The redhead (whose name, in Lena’s slurry of language, seemed to be Emily, but Michiru would not swear to it) excused herself to go to the bathroom, and Michiru signaled the manager. 

Lena leaned in. “Saved up for 2 years for this ‘oilday, I did. Em’s always wanted to see South America.” She grinned, her eyes full of love, and she drew a small box out of her cargo shorts. “I mean to propose to ‘er, you see.”

Haruka’s eyes welled with tears as she displayed the ring–small, slightly oxidized with they years.

“It was me Nan’s” she added. 

Michiru suddenly felt very small, and very cruel, and she dared not look up at her reflection in the back of the bar for fear she would see her mother. This was a trip for her, booked last minute for time away with Haruka. It was Lena and Emily’s experience of a lifetime, and they would tell the story the rest of their lives. 

“Might I ask how you mean to do it?” The question suddenly seemed very important to Michiru. 

“Oh, don’t know, brought me suit, thought I’d do it by the pool, buy ‘er some champagne.” She smiled and gave a happy hum. “She’s just brilliant, really. I love ‘er.” 

haruka gave a sniffle, and wiped her nose. “My allergies on this…damn ship”

Michiru looked over at Lena. “Would you perhaps consider Prado Florido?” 

She gave a conciliatory smile “Ah miss, that’s the private restaurant, can’t get in there. Tables are all for the posh people aboard.” 

The manager appeared at her side. “Miss Kaioh. How may I assist you?”

“Yes, I would like to make a reservation for Prado Florido tonight, for Miss Lena,” she looked over at Tracer, “What is it?”

Lena looked at her, mystified, “Oxton.” 

“Miss Lena Oxton and her companion, please charge it to my room and do not allow them to order the cheap champagne, you know my tastes and I trust that you will ensure they are met.”

“Very good, madam.” He bowed and walked away, and Tracer just stared. 

Haruka wrapped her arms tightly around Michiru and kissed her temple. “I won’t buy the hawaiian shirt” 

Time And Then Some- Sherlock x Reader |Part Two|

Read Part one - Part two - Part three


Meh, It’s not my best, but I tried…I hope you enjoy this, though. Keep a look out for Part three and Private Affairs. :) 

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I mean, if you need anything just call and I’ll come right back,” Y/n smiles as her sister fussed about, making wild hand gestures. Y/n knows Jeanette has been working her butt off since God knows when, and now she finally gets a day off and Y/n made it her duty to make sure that she spends it right. She had agreed to watch her son for the day, allowing Jeanette to spend some quality time with her boyfriend, Seth.
“No, J, go ahead. You deserve time off, Ethan and I will be fine.” Jeanette looked ready to drop everything even though Y/n reassured her, again.
“You’re a God sent, Y/n. I’ll see you later,” Jeanette says, kissing her cheek before slipping away. Y/n quietly closes the door behind her. Y/n heads back to the living room where Ethan was currently watching the telly, giggling at every silly thing that happens. “So Bud, what do you wanna do today hmm? We’ve got the whole day to ourselves.” Y/n says, plopping down on the couch next to the seven year old. Ethan looks away from the telly, turning to face Y/n, his grey eyes innocent and curious. “Can we get ice cream?” Y/n laughs, knowing that would be the first thing he would ask for. “Well, your mom left a shopping list, so we could get it later,” she smiles and Ethan nods, apparently satisfied with her answer.
Soon, Y/n had made him breakfast; eggs and toast. She had always enjoyed spending time with her nephew, he doesn’t happen often, but Y/n tries to be there as much as she can for him and her sister. There was another reason why she agreed to watch Ethan, so she could perhaps get William Holmes out of her head. Since she left his flat three nights ago, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She had expected him to come to the bar the night after, but he didn’t show, and now Y/n is stuck trying to figure what to tell him if she ever does see him again. She thought at first, that it was only because he saved her from a lot of trouble that night is why he keeps popping up in her mind. Like a knight in shinning amour kind of thing. But she only realised it wasn’t that when she had sliced her finger cutting up mushrooms when she was making Ethan’s breakfast. He was like an annoying stain you just can’t get out of a tee shirt, no matter how many times you’ve washed it.
She’s only thought about a guy this much once, and that was in the ninth grade. A very long time ago, when childish crushes were a thing. The thought of her having a crush is just… no. That’s it. She doesn’t even know the guy to begin with.
But like she said, it’s that knight in shinning amour thing.
Later on in the day, Y/n decided to take Ethan out for lunch, going to a dinner some streets away from her sister’s flat. Then they went to the grocery to pick up the few things Jeanette had put on the list, plus, Ethan’s ice-cream.
Y/n held her nephew’s hand while looking through the list in her other hand. There wasn’t much things to get, and Jeanette had left enough money to get everything there, sans the ice-cream which Y/n’ll pay for.
Ethan was busy pushing the shopping cart with his free hand, staying close to Y/n like she’s asked him to. “Okay, I’m watching you, go get your ice-cream,"the dark haired boy skips over to the dairy section, Y/n keeping an eye on him from where she stood. As he came back with the mediumsized tub of what seemed to be cherry-vanilla, Y/n looks through the list again.
"Okay…Milk, cheese, ketchup….” Y/n checks the cart to make sure she has the things she crossed off, she takes the ice-cream from Ethan and places it the cart. “Okayy..still need–”
“Not getting into trouble are we?” Y/n had almost screamed bloody murder, but that baritone she’d recognise anywhere. She turns around, a small smile in her lips, “No, just getting some things,”
He still looked the same, (not like she expected him to change over the course of a few days) a mop of dark curls, though he was wearing a pair of dark shades, it was hard not to forget the colour of his eyes. His eyes are what caught her off guard at first, such a strange mix of colours; blue, green and flecks of gold. His eyes were captivating, eyes she noticed looked tired, almost ready to give up. It’s like when you want to sleep, but no matter how hard you try, sleep just evades you and you remain fighting that never ending war. How can eyes so young look so old?
He was dressed similarly to how he was that night, expect over his dark three piece suit he donned a long Belstaff coat, a navy blue scarf, his hands covered by black leather gloves.
When she realised she was staring, Y/n blushes and looks away. William smiles down at her, his eyes going to Ethan at her side who was staring up, looking between the both of them. “Is he yours?”
“Hmm? Oh, no. This is my nephew, Ethan.”
She watched when he smiled then, he looked almost relieved. Which was strange to her, yes he looked like a guy who enjoyed his solitude. But why would children be a problem?

Why the hell does that even matter to you?!

“Hi,” Ethan says quietly, and William smiles again, “Hello, little one,” Ethan is usually a shy kid, so the fact that he even bothered to greet William surprised Y/n.
“Anyway, it was mice to see you again, Y/n. But I’m afraid, I cannot linger. I’ll be seeing you,” He says, giving her a small nod before turning around and leaving, the coat he was wearing swished behind him.

Leave it to me, to like the strange ones.

Wait… wait what? Did he said he’d be seeing me?

“Aunt Y/n?” Ethan calls softly from under the covers. It was late, and about time that Ethan gets to bed, Jeanette had called, saying she’d home in a few minutes. “Yes baby?”
He peeks out at her from under his sky blue comforter, “That man from the grocery…” Y/n raises an eyebrow, not knowing where the child was going with this. She sits on the chair at his bedside, “What about him?”
“Mommy says that you can tell when you like somebody by the way you look at ‘em…and mommy looks at Seth like that all the time. The way you looked at him earlier….” Caleb says, Y/n chuckles, brushing back his dark hair. “You need to sleep,” she says smiling, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “Goodnight, sweetie,”

It was late when Jeanette returned home, Y/n was already dressed for work when he sister came in. “Oh, I made you late didn’t I?” Jeanette frowns, and Y/n shakes her head, getting up to grab her things. “No, I still have an hour to get there,” she smiles. Jeanette puts her bag down, plopping down on the couch next to Y/n. “So, you had fun?” Y/n asks and Jeanette grins stretching out her left hand and wiggling her fingers, causing Y/n to look down.
Oh my God,” Y/n laughs, and Jeanette nods, “I know!” the ring on her finger was simple, a single silver band with a white diamond.
“Oh my God! Congratulations!” Y/n says hugging her sister who laughs and hugs her back. “You bitch, I am so happy for you, I could cry.” Y/n says, not unkindly.
Not long after a small celebration between the two sisters, Y/n recalls her day with Caleb. “Wait, so you saw Mr creepy again,”
“He’s not creepy. The guy literally saved my ass,” Y/n says, shaking her head. Jeanette laughs, “And he said he’d be seeing you? I honestly have to meet this guy,”
“Ah haha, no. You’ll scare him off,”
Y/n says laughing before looking at the watch on her wrist, “Shit, J, I gotta go. I’ll text you later,”

“Stay safe,”

He came in early tonight, making the same order like he did last. Not at all surprising Y/n. He was quiet most of the time he was there, and Y/n was top busy attempt to make small talk with him. But when everything had settled, Y/n smiled at him and leaned against the counter. “Hey,” she greets with a small smile and he chuckles deeply, “Hello,”
“…So, I had to wait an entire three days to see you?” Y/n muses and Sherlock watches her curiously before smiling, “I would have came sooner, but I had some business to take care of,” he says, tapping the glass, silently she refills it. “You’re taking care of yourself, I hope.” He says, watching her over the rim of the glass as he lifts it to his mouth. Y/n smiles, tilting her head, “I’d ask you the same but you’re in a bar,” she chuckles, “but I am,”
William chuckles, smirking at her, “Everyone has a vice,”

It was about two am when Y/n got off, ready to go home and collapse in her bed, she smiles to herself as she locks up the bar. William left a bit around ten, and Y/n was quite surprised to find him waiting outside.
“Oh shit–William, you scared me,” Y/n says, her hand over her rapid beating heart.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, walking over to her, “I just thought I’d walk you home,”
“That’s very kind of you, thanks.”
It wasn’t a very long walk, from the bar to where Y/n lived. The walk there was quiet, while Y/n had tried to make conversation, William didn’t seem in a talking mood. At least, that’s what it seemed like to her, he’s just so darn mysterious. When he had taken a silver hip flask from the pocket of his coat and drunk from it, Y/n raised an eyebrow but didn’t question.
She hummed thoughtfully, causing William to look over at her, “What?”
“Nothing,” Y/n shakes her head, and he raises an eyebrow now, “Okay.. It’s just that… people drink when they’ve got something on their minds. Something they’d rather forget. You drink a lot, so I was only wondering,” she says quietly and William pockets the flask, sighing. “There are some things I try to forget, I suppose. But alcohol can only do so much, the forgetfulness is only temporary, eventually, they just come right back.”
It was quiet again after that, but not an awkward silence, it was quite calming. Just the two of them enjoying each other’s company. “Well, this is me.” Y/n says when they had reached her flat, she turns and smiles up at him. “Thanks again, for walking with me,”
“Of course,” William smiles taking her hand in his gloved one, Y/n feels a blush creep up her neck when he brushes his lips gently on her knuckles. “I’ll be seeing you,”
Y/n couldn’t help but feel giddy as she went up to her flat, and she couldn’t help but wonder where this was all going to lead.

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rangergirl3  asked:

Oh my gosh platonic hugs are awesome!!! :D Could I give a hug prompt where Keith is the unsuspecting recepient and Pidge is the giver? Totally love the sibling vibe between those two :D :D

I love their sibling vibe, too!  Hope this works for you!

Keith stumbled to the rendezvous point last, cutting it so close that Hunk barely managed to pull him into the closet where the rest of them were hiding and close the door before the guard on duty rounded the corner.  Lance took a sharp breath in, preparing to say something, but Pidge clapped a hand over his mouth before he could, shaking her head.  They waited, huddled together, while the guard walked past their closet, listening to his footsteps as he passed them, went farther down the hall, rounded the corner, and faded out of hearing distance.

Then Pidge let go, and Lance hissed, “What the heck, Keith?  All that about ‘absolutely don’t be late’ and 'we don’t have the power with only four lions to mount a rescue’ and you cut it that close?  What were you-”

Hunk put a hand on his arm, shutting him up.  "We were worried, man,“ he said softly, "We can’t lose you, too.”

Keith refused to look at them, half shrugging the comment off, and Hunk’s hand tightened on Lance’s arm before the blue paladin could turn it into a fight.  "I passed a room full of these,“ he explained, pulling something out of his hip pouch.

He tossed the object at Pidge.  She caught it and turned it over in her hands, realizing what it was.  "This is just like Rover!”  She felt silly about the burst of emotion she felt holding the tiny robot.  It hurt a little, thinking about Rover, but she was having a hard time not grinning like an idiot in the middle of their very dangerous reconnaissance mission anyway.

He nodded, looking her in the eye while he made his case.  "There was a whole room of them.  I figured having our own spy drone would help keep us out of situations like this.  We need to find Shiro without losing anyone else.“  He glanced downward, breaking eye contact, "And anyway, I know you miss Rover and we all miss Shiro and I just thought-”

Pidge leapt forward, wrapping her arms around Keith’s neck.  He’d been a numbskull about this, by cutting it so close and not warning them, but in the grand scheme of numbskull moves she and her teammates had made it wasn’t the biggest.  He seemed surprised, stiffening for a moment, then wrapped his arms around her in return, pulling her close in a hug that was only made awkward by the fact that they were still in armor.

“Well, at least you made it,” Lance said, softening a little.  He still wasn’t happy about Keith being their new leader, and Hunk still had a hand on his arm to keep him from fighting with Keith, but the atmosphere in the closet was much less tense.

Pidge gave Keith one extra squeeze and then pulled away, shoving the drone into her own hip pocket.  "I’ll have to reprogram it back at the castle, but I think we’ve got everything we need.  Let’s get out of here.“

Keith nodded, and Hunk opened the door, and then it was back to the mission, as usual.