not sure if you mean to answer it privately and if you did then ignore

Twenty-One Questions - Peter Parker

Words: 6,320 (sorry its super long, I got carried away)

Warnings: Unedited, very mild makeout session (;

Paring: Tony Stark’s Daughter x Peter Parker


The Avengers compound was quieter than normal Saturday night. The television flickered in the corner as the men switched flipped back and forth between NFL games. Natasha and Wanda chatted amongst themselves ignoring the sporting event like it was their job. Shouting resulted to a bare minimum much to the surprise of the young teenager propped on the kitchen bar stool. Peter Parker had been apart of the Avengers for a little over three months and never in his time apart of the team had he witnessed them so lifeless. The Avengers slumped around like deflated balloons lacking interest in all activities.

A soft sigh fell from Peter’s soft lips while he pushed himself off the metal seat. His warm brown eyes fell to the watch fasten around his wrist. 10:06, Aunt May would expect him home by midnight but with the lack of activity, calling it a night didn’t seem like such a horrible option. Peter was use to hating the time that rolled around when he was forced to take the long haul back to his apartment. The train rides were sketchy, the walk in the cold was gruesome, and the local New York civilians had a tendency to be the most bitter people in the world. But out of all the things Peter hated about having to leaving the tower, Y/n was by far the most.

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deal | pt 1 (m)

Originally posted by sugamysavagebaby

summary: the years spent working hard had really paid off and was it so wrong to want to rub that in a few faces? The cliché mean girls that often teased you for not doing anything with your hair or clothing, wouldn’t it be great to show off someone like Jungkook? High school reunion au + ceo!jeon

word count: 6,366 

part two | part three 


Eyes like ice, cold and calculating narrow over the rim of a wine glass. Soft lips press to the polished glass, the crimson complimenting tan skin. If it weren’t for the soft dent between his brows you would have assumed he had not heard you. He takes his time allowing the wine to caress his palate, eyes closed as he savors the taste.  As always, he makes you wait until the wine glass is drained of it’s dark contents. You ponder on the taste, if it is bitter upon his tongue much like his words.

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

“Internalised Homophobia - Where Is My Pride?”

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

A Scarecrow For God

by reddit user survivalprocedure

“Can I take your picture?” Larissa sat a few feet away from me on the grey velvet sofa as I aimed my iPhone towards her. I stared at the screen intently for a moment before shifting my focus, looking over the brim of the phone at her defeated, hopeless state portrayed by bloodshot eyes.

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Why Does it Have to be You? - Damian Wayne x Reader

Originally posted by crownprincefreeza

Requested by Anon -  a Damian x reader where Klarion has started causing chaos around Gotham and the only person he’s willing to listen to is the reader, because he has a crush on them.


The night was a quiet one. So quiet, in fact, Damian sent you home earlier when he caught you yawning one too many times. He knew you hadn’t been getting much rest lately. 

Damian was currently crouched by a stone gargoyle, debating whether he should turn in himself. The thought about crawling into bed next to you seemed very appealing. He frowned, glancing at the clock tower behind him to find it still an unnaturally early hour. Taking out his grapple gun, Damian decided to make one more round of the city before returning home to you.

Damian was just going passed the Gotham Train Station when a explosion sent him tumbling to the ground. He rolled back to his feet before scrambling to see what happened. Much to his displeasure, he spotted a swam of magical energy surrounding the building. 

Swinging down to slip into the building through one of the windows, Damian growled as he saw Klarion floating in the center of the room. 

“What are you doing here, Witch Boy?” Damian demanded, dropping down to the floor. Klarion sneered at him, lifting a finger to zap a civilian unlucky enough to cross his path. The person turned into a mouse, scurrying away. 

“Go away, Birdy. My kitty might eat you,” Klarion threatened, glancing around. He frowned when he realized Damian was the only vigilante in the room. “Where is (Y/N)?”

Damian sighed, sensing what this was about. “(Y/N) is not here, Witch Boy. I’m afraid you only have me tonight.” He watched silently as Klarion’s face slowly grew redder and more grotesque. Damian’s eyes widened when he felt something brush against his leg. He glanced down to find Teekl. Before he could move, Teekl turned into a giant beast. Damian fought the monstrous Teekl while Klarion threw magic blasts at him. 

“No, No, No!!!” Klarion was screaming as Damian did his best to avoid the magic blasts and Teekl. Eventually, one of Teekl’s paws slammed into Damian throwing him out of the building and into the street. Damian could feel one of his ribs crack, but rolled out of the way of another magic blast from Klarion.

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slightlied  asked:

hi spooks!! viktuuri high fives for the touch prompts? i just think that's so??? Hilarious??? *morooka voice* and here we have the most romantic lovers to ever grace the ice executing a..............high five

I…might have gone in a slightly different direction with this???? oops. 


Katsuki and Best Friend Coach Victor Nikiforov to remain Coach and Student as Nikiforov Returns to Skating

Nikiforov shocked the skating world when he abruptly retired earlier this year and moved to Japan to coach Katsuki Yuuri. Their hug at the Cup of China made waves in the skating community—showcasing a deep affection between two friends. Two very good friends. Definitely just friends. No one is quite as skeptical of Nikiforov’s decision now that Katsuki’s broken his coach’s record and taken home silver.

At the press conference after the medal ceremony, Nikiforov expressed his desire to return to the ice while remaining Katsuki’s coach…

Click to read more


“I’m suing them for libel.” Victor would rip the paper in half but he needs to make sure he can still read the columnist’s name so he can savage them over the phone. And television. And Twitter—especially Twitter. “Did they not see my ring?”

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Show Me That You Love Me

(ao3, buzzfeed article that inspired this nonsense)

(Monday, Feb 6)

Clarke: FYI, I’m telling my coworkers that we’re dating so this creep will stop hitting on me
AT WORK

Bellamy: You can’t just leave it at that.
How creepy are we talking?  
You know if I don’t get specifics my mind jumps straight to the worst-case scenario.

Clarke: It’s not that big a deal? Mostly just annoying
But he won’t take no for an answer so I told him I had a boyfriend

Bellamy: Not a girlfriend?

Clarke: They know I’m bi already because I ranted about gross stereotypes at the Christmas party
It’s why they instituted a two-drink limit
And if he doesn’t respect my hard “no” I doubt he’ll respect my girlfriend’s so
Boyfriend

Bellamy: You sure you don’t want to date him? He sounds like a charmer.

Clarke: I was sure the first fifteen times he asked and my decision hasn’t wavered.
I wouldn’t have even mentioned it to you except I know Anya comes to the bar sometimes and I didn’t want you to blow my cover

Bellamy: Consider your cover secure.

Clarke: Thanks. I owe you one.

Bellamy: What are fake boyfriends for?

* * *

(Wednesday, Feb 8)

Clarke: WTF???

Bellamy: I see you got my flowers.

Clarke: They’re hard to miss seeing as they take up MY WHOLE CUBICLE
It smells like a rainforest
My allergies are killing me
Seriously. Why.

Bellamy: Can’t I just show my fake girlfriend that I appreciate her?
Why must you always assume I have ulterior motives?

Clarke: Because I know how expensive flowers can be and you’re the biggest coupon-clipping Scrooge I know

Bellamy: I’m helping!
I’m just trying to back up your story, Princess.

Clarke: You’re just trying to embarrass me in front of my coworkers is what you’re doing

Bellamy: Remember that time you made me do karaoke with you?
Some might consider us even now.

Clarke: You know Valentine’s Day is next week right? If you do something like this on a random Wednesday, you’re going to have to do something for that too or else Cage will think we’ve broken up

Bellamy: So I’m going to have to top myself is what you’re saying.

Clarke: I don’t think that’s what I said at all

Bellamy: If you insist, Princess.

Clarke: I don’t insist. I STRONGLY DO NOT INSIST.

Bellamy: Unrelated question: what song would you most like to have serenaded to you?

Clarke: If that’s how it’s gonna be then start preparing yourself
Cause it’s on, Blake

Bellamy: Dammit, I did not think this through.

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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 Law Of Attraction for Manifesting And Self-Confidence:

Q: Hi! I’ve found your blog not long ago and I am really loving it! I was wondering if you could give me your opinion/advice on how to manifest material things, but also I feel like I’m not too confident about myself and this is reflecting my outcome, but Idk how to change it. Thank you very much :) 

A: I am actually SO excited to answer a question on confidence. I have alot of help to give you, as it’s a very personal topic for me too. Attracting material things is covered at my best in the following post. Digest it and re-visit the page often. Each step will easily attract to you material things. Start with a medium sized goal, and you should have a result within 30 days. (Let me know what manifestations happen as a result of that, as they sure will happen!)

And now, for the key to success, the key to how happy your life will be and the key to how many opportunities come your way: Self-Confidence. Your confidence comes from your concept of yourself. Your concept of yourself was programmed from since before your birth and includes your parents, how much they earned, where they lived, and every thought you were exposed to in your childhood. It is hard to find a single person who has had a perfect image of themselves, therefore. Your concept of yourself is basically opinions that people share and over time they become accepted. An example is the girl that believes she is shy, and her family and friends also “agree”, would never ask out her teenage crush. There is no physical barrier to her doing this; she could walk up to him and she can say the words. But her concept of herself is the psychological reason her legs and mouth wouldn’t coordinate with her. 

You’re right that confidence will affect your outcome. It will affect the level of money you earn, where you live, who you befriend, etc. Here are some exercises that will cause your awareness to grow;

1. Headline a sheet of paper “The Truth About Me!” and write under it as close to this: The energy that made worlds, made me also. I am confident, I believe in myself, I enjoy being me. I know I am worthy of all that I desire. I am powerful and have a magnetic personality.” Read this statement every day. 

2. In the mirror, look into each eye separately and say to yourself “I am confident. I love me.” It will feel funny but its the surest fastest way to communicate with your Soul. 

3. If you were more confident, how would you act? Talk? Dress? Set 30 minutes aside each day and visualize in your imagination all these things. See your friends saying “you’re so much more confident now!”, and “Wow I can’t believe you did that! Where is this confidence coming from? You gotta spill!” etc, etc. The more intensely you do this, the more you’ll notice you start to take action towards that now. 

4. Read Psycho-Cybernetics by Dr Maxwell Maltz. I believe there are copies available on Amazon and PDFs on the internet too. Ignore the title, it is basically a plastic surgeon turned psychologist who wrote about self-confidence. The book is written in a simple style and you’ll really, really love reading it. Trust me. It will help you along your way. 

5. Play a confidence or self-love guided affirmation tape daily. Ideally in bed at night. I found one for you that has binaural beats which means it will stimulate your brain to learn confidence faster: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCJkTXS4LoA

*I now provide private law of attraction e-coaching. To know more please read here.*

NOBODY LIKE YOU [DRACO MALFOY]

request: “HELLO!!! i really enjoy your writing and i wanted to request something (: i was wondering if you could do a Draco x Reader imagine where reader is super shy and Draco’s readers boyfriend and he teases reader a bit about it constantly and reader gets kind of upset??? but he makes it up to them?? i’d really love it if you did (: also i’m sorry that it’s oddly specific 😅” — by anon

a/n: not gonna lie that i was excited to write this bc it’s my first draco imagine request lol. i hope that you don’t mind that i changed it up a bit and i also hope that you like it! thank you :-)

Masterlist Request link here!

People often told you that the only reason why they were suddenly aware of your existence was because you started dating Draco Malfoy. Well, that was probably because you were one of the most silent and shy of the entire student body in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

That was also one of the reasons why your fellow wizards wondered how the hell did you manage to win the Slytherin Prince’s heart if you were his complete opposite. You didn’t know the answer yourself, but either way you weren’t complaining.

Though sometimes Draco was a very, very, very annoying boyfriend. He loved to mess with you in any kind of way, whether it was to tease you how your hair looked like a bird’s nest in the morning, how you were Flitwicks’ favorite student, and of course, the fact that you were practically an anti-social human being.

“Y/N, don’t you think this is getting a little bit ridiculous?” Draco smirked as the two of you sit down on your usual table inside the library. “I mean, Madam Pince won’t bite.”

You huffed, “I know that but —”

“You’re too shy?” He cut you off with a knowing grin.

You involuntarily blush and cross your arms. “Yeah … though only because this is my second time not returning my borrowed book on the correct due date!”

Draco laughed quietly, “Love, that’s bloody stupid and you know it. Madam Pince probably wouldn’t even remember that it is your second time.”

“What if she does?”

“She won’t.”

“Draco, you wouldn’t know that.”

“You wouldn’t know it either.” he smartly pointed out. “So let’s call it quits and just go to Madam Pince and return this book to her so we can go have our date.”

You blush yet again at the mention of your date with Draco today. The both of you were already supposed to be in Hogsmeade, but since you were too anxious to walk up to the librarian and just return your book, there had been a delay of plans.

As you were about to stand up and finally approach Madam Pince, you heard Draco mutter something under his breath.

“Finally. Bet Pansy would have approached her an hour ago with no persuasion needed.” he said but you can still hear the teasing tone in his voice.

You knew he was still trying to drive you nuts (something he liked to do a lot), but you couldn’t help but feel upset because of the mere fact that you have always been slightly insecure of Pansy since a lot of people always told you Draco was better off with her rather than with you.

“Then maybe you should start dating her instead.” you bluntly stated before walking towards Madam Pince and placing the book on her desk without another word, going out of the library then, not even bothering to wait for Draco to catch up.

The Slytherin Prince wasn’t stupid. He knew he had gone a little too far with what he told you because he immediately got up from his seat to follow you outside.

He matched your pace, his voice gentle and soft as he start to talk to you, “Love, you know I was only kidding, right?”

“Didn’t seem like you were.” You answered, your eyes staring straight ahead.

You hear him sigh. “Y/N, Pansy can never beat the beauty and charm you have. I didn’t mean to sound like I preferred her to be my girlfriend. I was only teasing.” he reasoned.

You didn’t answer him but still, the sudden rush of blood to your cheeks gave you away, making Draco crack a smirk. Knowing that he was enjoying this, you finally turned to his direction and slapped him hardly on the chest.

“I’m still mad at you.” You reminded him.

“Then why are you blushing?” he challenged.

You huffed, “I’m pretty sure it’s because of anger.”

Draco raised his eyebrows because of this. “Y/N, if there’s one thing cuter than you being shy, it’s you trying to act mad.”

His comment made you stare at him blankly. “How can you be so smooth and annoying. I hate you so much.” you joked, a smile finally making its way to your face.

He grinned, suddenly pulling you closer despite the fact that you could literally feel everyone staring at the both of you, since you were still standing in the middle of the hallway.

“Draco, not here please.” You pleaded, proving once again how shy you truly were.

He ignored your protest, tilting your head up instead to make you look at him. “Hey, I was serious about what I said. Sure I banter a lot and make fun of you a lot, but I hope you know it’s a way of showing how much I love you. I wouldn’t want anybody else to be here with me right now other than you, Y/N.”

You widened your eyes at his words since he rarely say those kind of things whenever there were other people around, especially first years who were clearly eavesdropping to your conversation, now squealing silently.

“Okay, okay.” you smile. “I love you too, Draco, but can we be go somewhere private now? I swear, I could feel daggers behind my back.”

He chuckled and placed a quick but sweet kiss on your lips, catching you off guard and once again, making you blush stupidly, something you tend to do a lot whenever you were with your boyfriend.

“So, about that date …”

Hummingbird Heartbeat

Pairing; Finn Balor x Reader

Summary: Finn’s been in a fully committed relationship with wrestling and no one else. He thinks it’s going to be that way forever until Becky throws a birthday party and invites her incredibly cute cousin. 

Warnings: Language and Fluff.  

Word Count: 6,154

**************************************

The incessant honking from the car parked in his driveway continued to blare throughout the neighborhood even after he was stumbling out the front door, still trying to slip his Vans on. 

It would have been one thing if he wasn’t late already - having lost track of time at the gym - but now Sami and Ben seemed to just be adding emphasis to their feelings about his lack of socializing outside of work; the longer the car horn blared, the more time the two of his friends would probably spend on expressing their opinions about Finn’s need to go out and be more social. 

“Well it’s about damn time” Sami shouts from the driver’s seat, “thought you were just going to hide out in your bedroom and ignore us until we drove away… again.”

“Sorry, sorry. Lost track of time, I was helping Matt train some of the newcomers at the performance center,” Finn huffs, running to the backseat and sliding in. 

Ben turns around in the passenger seat and looks at him, “You ever gonna give yourself a break man? You were never hired to be a trainer.”

“I know that, Matt just really appreciates the help sometimes.”

Sami speaks up next, cranking the ignition and peeling out the driveway, “Yeah, but you need to get a life man, when’s the last time you did something that didn’t involve wrestling”

The question is answered with silence, because Finn really can’t remember the last time he did something unrelated to work, and he hates himself for that. It’s not like he’s intentionally cut himself off from the social world, he’s just always wanted to be the best. 

No one becomes the best if they don’t work at it twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. 

Keep reading

@rootenist - I just reblogged your contest post (@tootenist) and I was wondering if you could do a fic where Spock and his s/o are on a diplomatic mission but the place they were going gets attacked and they get separated. Spock has to try and find her before whoever attacked them does. (If I did the contest thing wrong just ignore this 😅)

Word Count: 2544
Author’s Note: I took some liberties, and Spock and reader aren’t actually in a relationship. Yet ;) Also, I couldn’t find a definitive confirmation of the Vulcan word I used actually being canon, but I used it anyhow. And finally, this fic kinda got away from me, and is longer than anticipated. I’m sure you are all very disappointed in that. Uh, also, totally made up the aliens because sometimes new aliens are the easiest to vilify.


“I’m still not quite sure what we’re doing?” You asked as you fastened your safety belt in the shuttle.

“The Creatotians are extremely literal. They do not understand analogy, or symbolism at all. Jim assigned me to be the negotiator for the peace treaty between the two factions that are warring on Creatotia. He did not want to risk an agreement that was not clearly understood by both sides,” Spock explained.

“I know, I get that,” you replied. “What I don’t get is why I have to come?”

“You are the woman on board I am most comfortable with, and I am in need of a spouse,” Spock explained. You choked and stared at him.

“What?” You sputtered.

“Obviously, Y/N, we are not wed,” Spock clarified. “But the Creatotians were very clear about the parametres of what made an acceptable negotiator. And mated was one of the specifications. As I was qualified in all the other areas, the captain chose to blur the lines, so to speak, and hope they do not notice we are not, in fact, a couple.”

“So I fake being your wife, and we can be off this rock quickly?” You asked. Spock nodded slightly.

“That is the idea, Ashayem,” he agreed. “I am uncertain about how much the Creatotians know about Vulcans, but you should know that we are not as physically affectionate as humans.”

“I’ve been working with you for months now, Spock,” you countered. “I’d figured that out. But what about affectionate nicknames?”

“No.” Spock’s response was immediate. You laughed.

Keep reading

I respect the opinion of my elders, but just an open query about the charges brought against my generation:

For not working hard enough: where is the evidence. When we were younger you told us you started from a small job and climbed your way to the top. When we are flipping burgers it’s because we didn’t apply ourselves. When you did it, it was shouldering the future by suffering in the present. When we ask for the money to buy bread, it is shameful. When others went on strike in the name of labor conditions, it was heroic. When we ask for more, we never deserve it. So how did you get here? Did you never sit up and demand the world give you what was rightfully yours? How hard working is hard enough?

We are illerate, use slang instead of language, shun poetry: did I just imagine the “rad” bloom of the 70’s? Is it because you can’t catch our tongues in your hands? Is it because our poetry is now published beyond books, beyond the control of one voice, beyond you? That our language doesn’t need your approval to evolve? When you drew political pictures of us asking how to turn a book on, you laughed at our ignorance. When the tables turned, when we were shown to be the most literate and well-read generation on record, you scratched the mirror. You said it was our lazy nature. A body rotting. Because we read trash, or we read into things, or we write loudly and it bothers you. Why does it bother you?

School is too easy: What was it like going to school without being worried about a shooting? Did you ever cower like we have, like I did, like our friends, crying muffled in your hands because you love your parents and now have no time to tell them? What was it like, dear, in a world where my standardized testing scores would have broken your curve and I didn’t even get perfect. What part is the easy part. Is it the highest recorded level of anxiety? Is it the rising teenage suicide rates? Is it the eating disorders, body dismorphia, self harm, self destruction? Tell me, have you seen - there’s a show called “Are you Smarter Than A 5th Grader.” It’s very funny. In it, bright young kids show adults that what we’re learning didn’t even exist in common knowledge while they were in school. Tell me. If you were up against our 5th grade curriculum, who would win? No, I’m sure you’re fine. You learned it all in high school.

We want too many free things: What was it like to want for nothing? What was it like to have a certainty that hard work leads to a bright future. What was it like imagining being rich instead of imagining just being rich enough to eat good food. What was it like, not being worried that a broken leg would cost you an entire apartment? Do you know they hate us so much they would rather see us die than bring down the price of an EpiPen. And since I know you love the idea of us abusing the system, tell me, where do I go to expose the lie about my life-threatening allergy? How do I fake it, because I’d like to opt out of it, and while I’m at it my mental illness, and while I’m at it can you take my chronic pain please. And since I know that the answer is to go to school and get a degree so I can be worthy of not dying, just another question: are you aware fifty thousand dollars a year is equivalent to a house. I could buy a house instead of going to college. Since you’re good at this, while we’re talking, I have two siblings. Which of the three of us gets the money? Go on. Look at us. Choose. Who goes hungry?

We’re entitled: yes, please, give me a deed, give me land, give me better than winning the lottery. What I’m entitled to is life, liberty and the pursuit of profit, am I not? So where are any of the above? Where did the jobs go? Why do you jail people for small crimes but free the criminals? And my life? This life? I end where my body begins, I am cut off from the nation’s decisions about what I can put in or take out of me. And me? I’m safe because I’m white-passing. Don’t the bodies pile up? Aren’t we entitled to justice? Aren’t we entitled to an answer? A response from the government? More than just speeches about how riots won’t solve things? Aren’t we entitled to a fair trial? To freedom of speech? Was it not our common fathers who fought for these things?

We’re lazy: Where? Who has the money? I’ve been working since I was 12, am I just an anomaly? Or do you just ignore those who don’t fit your story? All those student-run engineering projects that are changing history. All those protests. The art world, shifting. All these adults who demand more - do they count as lazy or as entitled? What were you doing at our age? Did it really look all that different?

We don’t listen to real music, don’t like real art, are loud, are too busy partying: We changed and you didn’t keep up. Is that’s what’s so startling?

We are sucked up into the Internet, wouldn’t drop the phone if the apocalypse was happening: my phone has my family on the other end of it. Do you not save pictures from a burning building? Do you really care so little for others you’d stick to the old ways entirely instead of texting? Oh sure, yes, a letter is pretty, I love them. But just asking for a friend: What do I do in an emergency with only a pencil. And I don’t mean to downsize the problem because I mean it’s not like you took Polaroids of your friends at sunset - right? - and it’s definitely wrong of us to want memories of a really nice night, but, just curious, did you post that opinion on the Internet? Was seeing others on the Web what made you upset? Maybe - this is just a crazy idea that popped up into my head - you should go take a walk, go outside, disconnect.

We do everything different: Yes. Because we were raised on the cusp of the next great Renaissance. We are in somewhere new, a galaxy of expansion that doesn’t rely on you. That knows more than you do. That doesn’t function the way you expect it to. How rose-colored is the past to you? The place where you erase AIDS and drug abuse in an effort to tell us we are a terrible youth. Where you don’t talk about the marches that happened around you. How painted do you picture it, simply because you had to physically look in a book to learn something new? How do you turn your eyes to a world where war sits on our necks, our earth melts, our populations swell, our people starve, and we are powerless in it all - and say, “It’s your fault.”

It’s our fault. The housing market, somehow related to our obsessive need for safe spaces, I’m sure, because our dreams no longer lie in yards but rather something big enough for at least a bed, and hopefully with tasteful curtains, and you have no idea what a safe space is. The certain failure of the two-party political system, maybe somehow due to our political correctness - we are, after all, rude enough to never open doors for old ladies or just let you be racist - how we controlled the media, how our desires drove this. Our request for trigger warnings and correct pronouns is a burden, and I see that now, because our special snowflake syndrome really does hurt you as a person; while your ongoing use of torture in corrective therapy is only a problem if you’re actually looking. You’re so right about so many things. When you beat us to correct us, it’s your child and it’s your right; when it’s our bodies we ask to have rights over - well, what did we expect? It’s our fault. The crushing debt, the companies that own our government, the privatization of prisons, the unrightful searches, the human trafficking and abuse of sex workers, the gun violence, the pharmaceutical industries which control our doctor’s choices, the climate change you only just started to admit is happening, the extinction of species worldwide - we are responsible for both pollution and poaching, the lead in our water, the death in our streets. So what do you get from it? From dismissing us? From quitting on us before the race begins? From forgetting who exactly raised us kids?

Now, I was told that the problem is that we too often point to bigotry. That we hide behind pointing out your sexist comments instead of realizing the truth your words wrought. I was told we are so focused on our victories, of a world that rallied for marriage equality, for gender expression, for the safety of survivors, for a healing nation - we call out instead of calling on. So I’m calling on you, Generation X kids. Here’s your free one. No bigotry spoken of. So speak. Explain what exactly you mean.

I get it. We asked for a country. The land is borrowed from your children, they tell me.

Now why are you so afraid when we show up and start collecting?

Clair(e)voyance

2.7

“Do ye no’ listen to a damn word I say?” Jamie said, shaking salt on his chips.

“I’m not the meek and obedient type,” Claire said, splashing vinegar all over.  She tore off a piece of fish and popped it into her mouth.  

“I specifically asked ye not to come.  Not to talk to her.”  

They sat in a Fish and Chip shop close to New Scotland Yard.  The place was small.  Warm.  Tables pressed tightly together.  They sat side by side.  

Jamie said he couldn’t sit across from Claire.  He said he could never fit behind the person at the next table.  

Claire didn’t care what his excuse was.  She pressed her leg into his. 

“I never agreed to that,” Claire said around a mouthful of food.  

“Aye, ye did!” Jamie pointed a chip at her before eating it.

“No,” Claire was smug.  “I didn’t.  I climbed on top of you instead of answering.”

She watched as his memory ran through the conversation and subsequent action from that night.  His posture relaxed.  “Aye.  Ye wee vixen, ye did.”  He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.  “Mmmm. Vinegar.”  

“Still,” he shook his head in disbelief.  “Next time warn a man.  I nearly died seein’ ye out front touchin’ her hand.”

He reached for a pen.  “Tell me again what ye saw when ye touched her.”

“Um,” Claire swallowed.  Reached over to stay his hand.  “Wrong book, hon.”

Jamie stopped.  Hon. He shook his head at the endearment.  Smiled to himself.  So, Claire Randall.  Have I softened yer heart a wee bit?  

He wiped his hands on a napkin.  “Aye.  Thank ye.”  He dug into his pocket for the caramel coloured notebook.  

“She was in the hospital.  The priest had come to visit, but he was mainly focused on talking to her husband.  It was like she wasn’t there.  She was trying to explain that they could keep up the chemotherapy, and do what the priest wanted, but he ignored her.  Kept quoting scripture.”

“What did he look like?”  Jamie’s pen was poised.  “Did ye glean a name?”

“I couldn’t see his face.  He was a big man, though.”  Claire closed her eyes in concentration.  “No.  No name.”

Jamie scribbled and Claire took another bite.  “I’m surprised Reverend Campbell didn’t tell you who it was.”

“Aye.  Weel.”  Jamie said around a mouthful of chips. “He’s scared of the man, whoever he is.  He wouldna say a word without a lawyer.  Chief Inspector is no’ happy wi’ me right now.  Stirring up the church and such.”  

“Jamie?”  Claire worried that her part in all of this would backfire.  “Chief Inspector Grey….does he know about me?”

Jamie nodded, swallowing his bite.  “Aye.  He kens I have ye workin’ with me.  Ye ken that.  Ye heard me on the phone the other day.”

“I mean,” Claire pushed her food away from her, “does he know about me.”

“Ye mean yer gift?”  Jamie shook his head, “No.  I’ve told no one.”

Claire relaxed.  Jamie reached for her food.  Pulled it closer to her.  

He leaned into her shoulder, whispered in her ear.  “Now eat up.  I’ll be wanting to see ye home.”

“Such a gentleman,” Claire whispered back.  

“Och. No.  There will be nothin’ gentlemanly about what I do to ye when I get ye there.”  


D.C. Mohr gave Jamie a look across the room.  Tapped the side of his head.

Jamie cocked his head to the side in agreement.  This priest was as odd as they came.  Jamie and Angus were continuing to interview the Parish staff.  Jamie was purposely leaving the secretary until the end.  He could tell she was anxious.  Nervous.  

He wanted her near to breaking.  

At this point, he and Angus had been trying to talk to the man for the past half hour but he kept going off on these tangents.  

Father Fogden, despite his strong resemblance to St. Francis of Assisi, was not the picture of priesthood.  He rambled incoherently most of the time.  

Ramblings that yielded some interesting comments in between.  

“One must make sure that the sheep are taken care of, that the flock is tended.  The world is full of wolves, wolves that threaten our sheep.  Curses.  Plagues.  Trials.  Hardship.  Burden.  Affliction.  Misery.  Woe.  Tribulation.  Misfortune.  Pain.”  

Jamie was scribbling furiously.  

“You would know him.”

Jamie stopped writing.  The Priest was staring at him intensely.  “You would know him.  Aren’t you Scottish?  You would know him.  Bone.  The Slayer.” 

Jamie was frozen to the spot.  Riveted.  “How would being Scottish help me know him, Father?”  He shot a quick glance at Angus. 

Fogden blinked suddenly, as if he’d just noticed Jamie and Angus. “We have guests!  What great fortune!”  

He yelled over his shoulder to the outer office, “Can we have something to serve our guests?”

He turned to Jamie.  “Do you like Sangria?”

“No, thank ye, Father,” Jamie said, coming out of his shock.  “Can ye tell us if ye’ve recently been in the old chapel on the grounds?”

The man’s back went ramrod straight in his chair.

“Oh no.  No, not at all.”  His black eyes fixed on Jamie.

“Spirits.”

Jamie felt a chill run down his spine.  

“Spirits, Father?”  Jamie watched as the priest swayed a little in his chair.  “Father!  What do ye mean, spirits?”

The cleric slumped over, head lolling forward.  

Both officers’ heads swiveled to the door as the parish secretary came in the room carrying a tray of tea.  

“What’s wrong wi’ him?” Jamie asked, voice concerned.

“Drunk,” she said.  And set the tray down with a clatter.


“Read the words to me again,” Claire said, pencil poised.

They were in Claire’s office at the morgue.  It was quiet there.  Private.  

Jamie ran through the list for the third time.  Claire wrote down only the words that spoke to her.

Jamie was fascinated.  He read them slowly.  Her eyes were closed in concentration, “listening” more to her inner voice than his.  She would shake her head if the word didn’t resonant.  Write furiously if it did.  

She brought it down to four words.  With the last two that she swore were connected to his name.  

Trials.  Hardship.  Woe.  Pain.

Bone.  The Slayer.

“And he said you should know him because you’re Scottish, is that right?”

“Humpf,” Jamie grunted. 

“Aye….hold on.”  Jamie stopped and dug through his book for a sheet of paper.   

Claire’s mind was a chaotic mass of sensations.  

“Synonyms,” she mumbled.  “That much is clear.  And for you to know must mean that the words are Scottish in origin.  But words don’t derive from Gaelic.  They come from Latin or Greek.”  

She sighed.  Looked up from her notes. 

“I’m sorry, Jamie.  It’s all too much.”

Jamie was staring at the paper.  

Jaw clenched.  Muscular throat working.

“Why that slippery wee bastard.”

Jamie snapped his notebook closed.  

“What?” Claire got up from her chair to look over his shoulder.  “What did you find?”

He bolted before she could see.

“I’ve got to go.”  Jamie’s long strides took him to the door of the morgue.  He pushed open the door.  Stopped.  Walked back. 

Kissed her firmly on the lips.

“Call ye later.”

And he was gone. 

Claire placed a hand to her lips.  

God.  No.  He can’t be walking into THAT.  

Claire grabbed her medical bag.  Searched it.

Dammit.  She’d need a couple of medicines before she could show up there.  Time was of the essence.  

The hospital was two blocks from the morgue.  She ran the whole way, driven by fear.

Panting heavily she made her way to the pharmacy.  

She was commanding.  Authoritative.  With an air of the busiest of doctors. She got what she needed.  Bypassing paperwork.  Bypassing protocol.  

Bypassing questions.  

Catapulted into action she didn’t even hesitate when the unknown number rang her phone.  

“I know it’s you!” she half-shouted into the phone.  “Detective Inspector James Fraser is on his way!”  

She heard a sharp sob on the other end.  

“What’s happening?” Claire asked.

A small voice answered.  It was the secretary at the school.

“He’s going to kill him.”

Leather pt. 2

Originally posted by 7bboys

Warnings: Smut…to come ;)

Genres: Mechanic!Jungkook A/U and a bit of dirty talk

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x reader

Part 1


It had been a few weeks since you met Jeon Jungkook- and every time you saw him your stomach flopped. The words that you exchanged with him were few, sparse and dry, but that was what you wanted, or what you convinced yourself at least.

“…Jin?” you called out, eyes searching for your brother as you stepped into the shop. It was oddly bare, you didn’t see anyone, and except for a few clanking sounds, it was quiet. “…Jin,” you called again. 

Suddenly, someone rolled out from under a car that was slightly raised off the ground. 

“He’s not here,” 

“Oh…” you looked at him as he sat up, silky, black hair bouncing back, parting his bangs. The navy blue coveralls that were supposed to cover him were stripped down to his waist, revealing a clingy white shirt, grayed with oil stains, that hung onto his toned body. 

“What?” a smile played on his lips, and your cheeks flushed, realizing you had been oogling a bit too long. 

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Behind Closed Door Pt. 1|  Jeff Atkins

Originally posted by hannah-db

Requested by @fuckkoffcourtney love the username btw haha, this will have a part 2 but it is yet to be written, sorry for not posting for the past 2 days, my depression struck and I lost myself, but I’m back, thanks everyone who had been reading my other posts and following me! You are all angels and I hope to keep pleasing you with more, so without further ado I hope you enjoy and as always thank you for reading ♡ 


A beep sounded outside my house so I quickly grabbed my backpack running outside to Zach who was waiting for me in his car, I jump in and he smiled at me before driving off to school. Usually Jeff would pick me up but he had gone to school way earlier to practice for the baseball game after school today, and although I wanted to be there for him for encouragement, I just couldn’t force myself to wake up that early.

Zach and I arrived at school, I kissed his cheek thanking him and got out smiling when I saw my boyfriend waiting for me in front of the school with open arms, I instantly ran into them, latching myself onto him as I kissed his face whispering I love yous to him. He chuckled and securely held me in his strong arms as I showered him with love, I finally stopped kissing his face and softly cupped his face to kiss him deeply, Jeff kissed back and I gasped as his hand clenched my ass, I quickly pulled away and brought my legs down remembering we were in school.

However, Jeff wasn’t very happy with the loss of contact, “Baby” he whined but I just intertwined our fingers and pull him inside school to our lockers.

Jessica stood next to mine and gave me a quick hug before asking me how was my weekend while Jeff went to greet Justin and Alex, I opened my locker to get out the books I needed for first period and smiled at the pictures covering the inside of my locker, many of them were Jeff and I but there was a few with our group.

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Clingy (Part 1)

This one is really personal to me. I hope you all like it! ♡♡♡

Prompt:

Where Y/N loves him, but what if he doesn’t appreciate it?

It had been a couple of months since you and Harry had started dating. It wasn’t long, but you already had strong feelings towards him. You couldn’t help it, it was something that had become a part of you. When you were in a relationship, you became too attached. You gave your absolute everything in the relationship. You would never hesitate to change your schedule if it meant that you two could get some time together. Whether it was a friend, or a boyfriend. You always tried your best to make it work.

For you, a relationship wasn’t something just to pass time. It meant that the person had a special place in your life, and in your heart. Sometimes it felt like you were the only one who was putting in the efforts, and that hurt you quite a lot. But you never let that change who you were as a person. 

There were times when you worried that you came off as clingy or desperate, and that had become one of your biggest insecurities. However, as time went by, you had learnt to save your ‘institnct’ for those who were actually worth it. That included some of your friends, your family, and of course your boyfriend, Harry.

Harry and you first met at a concert. It was the time that One Direction had recently taken a break. You both happened to be in the same crowd. Throughout the concert, you two danced together, and talked lots. Afterwards, Harry asked you out on a date, and you agreed. You both agreed to meet at a café nearby, and that was the start of something new. You had a lot of fun that night, and that led to a second date, which had let to now, when you had been dating for 5 months.

You had grown fond of him, as he had of you. You knew that you had strong feelings for him, but you didn’t know if he felt the same, and you didn’t want to risk it by telling him just now. There were times when you got insecure of your relationship, and you wondered why he chose you. Harry had previously assured you that he genuinely enjoyed your company, and wanted to be with you. You had gotten comfortable with Harry to a great extent, and had found yourself telling him things that you hadn’t told anyone else.

You knew that Harry led a busy life, so you always tried to compromise for him. You would often ditch your own plans if you found out that Harry had none, just so you two could spend some time together. Once you canceled a trip that your friends had planned, because Harry was home and you wanted to treasure your time together. You even went as far as to going along with his plans. If he went out with his friends, you would tag along so you could be in his presence just a little longer. You spent a lot of time at his apartment, sometimes in his absence. He said that you had made his apartment, a home. When you were apart, you made sure to send him short texts every now and then, just so he could know that you were thinking of him.

There were times when you worried that he would start getting bothered by your constant actions, but you pushed that fear away and started believing that he wasn’t like the others, and that he would actually appreciate the fact that you cared for him more than for your own ego. He had never shown any sign that would make you think otherwise.

Thinking about it now, maybe you should have looked a little closer?

It was the day that you had off from work. You knew that Harry was at home as well, so you decided to go over and surprise him at his house. You had been thinking about your feelings for him a lot lately, and you had decided that what you felt for him was too strong to be ignored. You finally built up the courage to decide that you loved him, that he now had your heart in his hands and you hoped with everything in you that he would take care of it. You could only hope that he felt the same way, because you had no idea of what in the world you would do if he didn’t.

You knew that you couldn’t force someone to love you, or to even like you. But you wished that he did. You had done everything that you could, so you could make him feel comfortable with you, to be the one he would admire and want to spend his life with.

On your way there, you got excited just thinking about what would happen if he actually felt the same for you. Would you make love? Would he ask you to move in with him?

By the time you parked your car in his driveway, your nerves were sky-high. However, you didn’t fail to notice the other car standing there. The minor heart attack you had, quickly died when you realized that it was Ed. You were a little bummed because you wanted to be alone with him, but you were good friends with Ed as well, and he treated you like his little sister.

After quickly texting Harry, “I have a surprise for you”, you walked to your boyfriend’s door, and weren’t surprised to find it open. You quietly sneaked in, not wanting to disturb them in case they were in the middle of a conversation. Your movements halted to a stop when you heard your name,

“Oh I meant to ask you about her. How is she doing? I haven’t been able to see her in a while.“ It was Ed. You shut your eyes, waiting for Harry’s answer. “She’s fine, I guess”

You couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed at that, you had expected a more heartfelt reply.

“What do you mean? Is everything okay?” Ed asked.

Please, please. You begged Harry in your heart.

You didn’t know what you were hoping for, but what came at you next was certainly not what you wished for.

“I sometimes feel like she tries too hard. It’s like she’s always around, I mean, I like her a lot, but I just need my space a little bit. She always wants to hang out, she wants to go out with me even when I’m going out with my friends. Hell, I probably get like a hundred texts from her daily. She’s just, clingy.”

You could feel your heart break in a million little pieces. The one person that you had expected for to be okay with how you were, even he had turned his back on you.

You tried to hold your tears back, you really did, but it seemed impossible. You were quick to turn around and go out of the door, as silently as possible. It wasn’t that hard, considering the both of them were in the middle of a very private conversation. Why were you eavesdropping anyway?

Your heart hurt, you hadn’t expected Harry to say that. As you slid into your car and backed out of his driveway with that thought in mind, your mind halted to a stop.

You should have been expecting this.

It had happened before, people had told you that you were too attached, or ‘clingy’ as Harry put it, whether that be previous boyfriends or some of your so called ‘friends’. 

Why did this hurt the worst? Maybe because you wished that Harry would have been the one person to accept you as you are. You felt like laughing at yourself, you felt stupid for feeling so strongly about him. 

You were tired.

Drained.

Tired of giving your everything to the people who didn’t deserve it. 

This lasted only until you reached home, though. As soon as you were back in the privacy of your own home, you broke down. You let out the tears that you had been keeping in ever since you had heard the dreaded words. You slid down the wall next to your door, as your body shook with sobs. You felt broken, as if something had been taken from deep inside of you.

You couldn’t help but think why? Why were you the one who got punished when all you wanted was to make the other person feel appreciated. You felt yourself getting dizzy as the tears continuously escaped your eyes. You couldn’t think of a time in your life when you had cried this hard. Although it wasn’t anything new to you, what you felt for Harry definitely was. You had never had such strong feelings for anyone else, and you couldn’t bear the thought of letting him go.

So you made your decision; this was it. You were going to change.

Apologies

- Where Fionn is at a very important meeting but gets a call from Y/n that she’s been arrested. 

A/N: Kinda sad but also kinda fluffy 

Previous writing


Tonight is really important.

Fionn has a mandatory meeting that addresses his next leading role in an upcoming action film. This is his greatest accomplishment since his role in Dunkirk—his career only seeming to get better with each audition and he couldn’t wait to discuss the next character he has to take on.

Everyone is there—between his managers, the directors, and all the other actors involved in the making, tonight is a really big deal. Fionn hasn’t been this excited since his last movie, and to be honest, he never thought he’d end up being a part of something like this again.

He’s amazed at it all, really. There’s a certain type of hustle he’s already found himself getting comfortable with, despite his overall shyness and introverted-ness. Everybody is just so welcoming.

This is his life for the next year, too, which gets him even more excited.

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Full Bodied.

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x Reader

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Happiest of birthdays @kpopfanfictrash . Love you  to the moon and back <3


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(Some spoilers for GotG 2)

Headcanon that, as a slave, Yondu never learned how to read and write. After Stakar got him free, he learned some things, the absolute basics and the most commonly used runes of that part of the universe he lives in, but Yondu was too proud to let Stakar’s team see him struggle over something so little, and too impatient to be taught, so he never deepened his knowledge. He struggles with reading, has to read slow and with squinted eyes, letters tumbling around in his head, and writing… well, he can, but he does so horribly, without any rules of grammar or spelling. He simply settles for asking people questions (either nicely or with the help of his arrow) to get information that he needs. He has a translator for spoken words, after all – it’s easier than learning to read those silly runes where there is no device translating them for you.

Later, when Kraglin and Horuz join his Ravager clan, he simply leaves the whole reading and writing thing to them. Especially Kraglin never asks why, would never think of questioning him.  

The funny thing? It’s Peter who, indirectly and without knowing, helps Yondu get better at both reading and writing.

The boy is Terran – he has no idea how to read and write the alien runes he encounters after he has been abducted. But he is curious, determined and young and smart enough to learn a lot of things, if he finds the patience to do it. And after he finds out that Kraglin doesn’t always have time for him to read him everything, and Yondu is strangely aggravated whenever Peter asks for help with reading, Peter decidces that he needs to learn it himself.

It takes whining, yammering and being the most annoying little pest he can be, mixed with good arguments (“How am I supposed to be useful to you guys if you not even teach me?”), but finally, he manages to convince them that they teach him. Kraglin teaches him the basics, knowing that the others would not have the patience to teach those to a child like Peter, who barely can sit still as it is. After that is done, Horuz takes over the finer details, teaching Peter how to do correct grammar, write whole sentence, and how to write formal and informal.

Peter learns quick – despite everybody always telling him that he never learns, he has a good head on his shoulders and is quick on the uptake. He is more than proud of his success, in fact, he may or may not be gloating a bit.

So much, in fact, that he has to show Yondu his success. The Captain always insists that Peter’s head is filled with air, so Peter will prove him wrong.

So the boy carries the few easy books the Ravagers picked up for him to Yondu, who is currently placing a new trinket on his control console, and plops down in front of the Centaurian. “Yondu, look what I learned today!”

“Ain’t got time for ya, boy.”

Peter ignores the grumbled answer – Yondu isn’t even doing something important, just glancing out the window every now and then, or looking over to that one communication device that has never shown any sign of life since Peter’s been here. It looks bigger and flashier than the other direct and private comms, decorated with the Ravager’s flames. Yondu has never once touched it, and never has someone called from the other side.

Perhaps Yondu is waiting for a call.

Since that’s not going to happen, Peter knows, he starts explaining, draping his book all over Yondu’s lap, making the Centaurian grunt in surprise. “See, today Horuz explained to me how to read Xandarian runes…”

“Boy, what did I just tell ya…!”

“And you see, I had this big problem with this rune here, but once I figured out that it can have two different meanings, it’s super easy! You just have to read the rest of the sentence to see which makes more sense, and…”

Peter babbles onwards, pointing and explaining at highspeed, and he’s so captured by all the new things he has to show, he doesn’t even notice that Yondu has neither kicked him off nor threatened him any further. In fact, had Peter paid attention to his surroundings, he would probably have noticed that Yondu’s interest had long since been captured, red eyes following Peter’s finger dancing over the runes intently, Yondu taking in what the boy gives him.

“… so, it’s not even that difficult, once you get the hang of it!” Peter finishes, beaming up at Yondu… who looks weirdly calm, the boy realizes only now.

“…Yondu?”

“Pete!” Kraglin’s loud voice saves Yondu from any explanation he has to give, his first mate appearing behind his seat. “I told ye you’re supposed to help with dinner in exchange for the readin’ lessons!”

“But the cook will try to make me for dinner!” Peter protests.

“Bullshit, I told ye we won’t let him. Scram, boy, Capt’n got stuff to do.”

Yondu stays behind as Kraglin drags the boy off (“Sorry ‘bout that, Capt’n.”) just sits there with the books Peter has forgotten on his lap.

He gingerly lifts one of them up, squinting at the letters Peter had just explained to him.

It really didn’t sound that difficult…

“You just have to get the hang of it.”

That’s what Stakar had told him, once, a long time ago, when Yondu had thrown his books away out of frustration.

His gaze wanders over to the silent comm – the one and only direct comm to Stakar and his team. He hasn’t used it since… their fallout, and Stakar hasn’t called him, either. Of course not.

His hand twitches towards it, as if he wants to use it… but he doesn’t. Won’t ever do so.

The next evening, when Peter leaves his reading lessons (and hooray, he had survived the cook the night before!), he runs into a pair of legs at full-speed.

The whistle he gets for that is unmistakable, as is the glint of red somewhere over his head. Luckily, the arrow is gleaming, but not out of its holster yet.

Leaning back that he doesn’t have to breathe in leather and plasma, Peter waves up. “Uh, hi, Yondu.”

“Quill,” Yondu’s grin is gold and copper and pointy, but Peter has long since learned when he has to fear that smile. Right now, he doesn’t have to. “How ya doin’ with that readin’ stuff?”

“Eh?! You want to know?!”

“Better make sure that ya don’t mess up, eh?”

Peter’s surprised (delighted) expression falls, and he pouts. “I’m not messing up.”

“Oh? Show me what’cha got, then.”

This time, when Kraglin walks in and finds both Peter and Yondu sitting on the ground next to Yondu’s collection of trinkets, Peter having strewn out the books in front of him and eagerly explaining what he has learned today, Kraglin doesn’t dare to intervene.

Something about the way Yondu actually listens, nodding from time to time when Peter can’t see, together with the fact that Kraglin never has seen the Captain read up until now, tells the first mate to shut his mouth about this.

He very, very quietly leaves the room, closing the door behind himself.

He will just pretend he hasn’t seen anything.