small panes

a sterek fic inspired by this stupid thing because how could I not

It’s a common saying among Stiles’ friends that he doesn’t have a lot of dignity. To be perfectly honest, Stiles agrees with them (as much as he argues against the point whenever they bring it up).

But this is probably a new low.

Well, not new-new, because this is into the fourth week of the habit and if he was a better person, he’d have stopped by now. He’s not a better person in this instance, but he’s made peace with it.

‘It’ being watching his stubbled neighbour jog past his place every morning in sweatpants and obviously non-supportive underwear. There’s a lot of movement down there. A lot.

“I mean, with that much jiggle, he’s gotta know, right?” Stiles asks his window pane, behind which he’s fake writing on his laptop.

They’re not quite neighbours, there’s about half a block between them for which Stiles’ sanity is thankful. Otherwise who knows what ludicrous amateur spying would have occurred.

As it is, he is very thankful he accidentally set his alarm for five am two (it was four) mornings in a row, because now he knows that this is a morning ritual for his neighbour.

Today hot neighbour is wearing the cut off, grey sweats. They’re a personal favourite of Stiles’ (better than the dark blue ones, which make it harder to see) because it means not only can he get a clear view of his neighbour’s dick as it swings forward against the fabric, but also his sweaty, perfectly muscled calves.

Stiles sighs out and bangs his head once against the window pane, a small punishment that is also part of the routine.

What is not part of the routine, is hot neighbour looking into Stiles’ window, and seeing Stiles’ face smooshed against the glass, after which he trips, possibly in disgust, or just simple distraction.

Stiles’ first reaction is to panic. He pushes his chair back from the desk and slams his laptop closed.

His second reaction is that he should call someone to come help.

His third reaction is to realise that, hold on, he can go and help.

Stiles rushes out his front door and into the chilly morning air.

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anonymous asked:

How about some sin? (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) How about Reaper, Hanzo, Genji, and Roadhog getting tired of being teased by their needy s/o decides to pin their s/o down and over-stimulate the crap out of them

oh man oH MAN it’s been so long since i’ve written dirty shit g o o d b y e

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The messenger boy: part 1 | Alfie Solomons

I can’t get enough of @sceawere and @collecting-stories Peaky Blinders imagines, so thank you! It inspired me to have a go at writing my own <3 

You started working for Alfie Solomons two months ago and he’d done little other than order you around. Not even personally. Ollie was his gofer and you grew tired of all his second hand information. You had your own little office in the Bakery and the door had a small, circular frosted glass pane. It was always easy to tell when Ollie’s frame filled it. He was a good lad but he seemed just as exhausted as you were with all the to-and-fro between you and Alfie. 

Ollie knocked as he always did before he stepped into your office, a pen in one hand and a book in the other. “Mr Solomons says—“ he started.

“Right.” You said abruptly as you slammed the pages of a book together on your desk. The chair that you sat in screeched when you pushed back to stand. Ollie watched you with surprise. If he thought about it, he hadn’t seen you this animated, well, ever. As you stepped in front of the boy you pulled the book from his hand. “I’ll take this.”

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Don’t You Dare Say “I’m Sorry”

Request: Could you write a one shot in which Sherlock and the reader (already in a relationship) are fighting? I’d find that really interesting!

Sherlock Holmes had sparred with many an intimidating nemesis. He’d faced off against the most fierce, twisted, cold, hard, calculating, fearful opponents known to man, however none of adversaries that had come before had invoked such terror and panic as the one he was currently staring down.

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Bad Habit

Originally posted by stuckyfeelwithskeletonclique

Part 6

(Pietro Maximoff x Reader)

You finally have Pietro’s location, but what will you find?

Words: 1732  Warnings: Mentions of blood & dead bodies, angry Wanda

An: Hope you like it, the next chapter will be posted this time next week 😜 x

Tags: @goal-mine, @aweways,  @iamtheoneocares,  @wellfuckbuck, (Let me know if you want to be tagged/removed in this or anything else)

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6   Part 7   Part 8

Masterlist |  Requests

“I can’t sense him, something’s wrong.” Wanda’s voice drifted down the corridor as you approached the flight deck with Bucky.

“Y/n, its not a good idea.”

Bucky was right but you dismissed him. You wanted to plead with her, tell her how you felt his pain and heard his screams just as she had. You never wanted him to leave, you were sorry, you just had to make her see that.

Yet when you stepped onto the flight deck and saw her what was left of your resolve fell away. The way her eyes flashed scarlet and bore into yours, her face set into and angry glare, you knew nothing would help your case. She hated you. Whether it was your fault or not, you were her outlet for blame, a channel for all her worry and anger.

“What is she doing here?!” Wanda hissed, red mist circling her hands.

“Wanda,” Steve rose from his seat and put his hand on Wanda’s shoulder, she flinched away from him, “she can help us.”

“She is good for nothing…”

“Don’t force me to leave you on the jet.” Steve warned her.

Though her powers stopped flowing through her hands, her eyes blaze with anger and she approaches you, Bucky quickly moving his body in front of yours shielding you. She ignored him and kept her eyes on you, she was terrifying.

“Stay out of my way y/n, and know if Pietro doesn’t survive this,” she scoffed at Bucky, “no one will protect you from me.”

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You Gotta Be Shittin Me, Right?

Daryl x Reader Smut Warning! 18+ Only! NSFW

Request: Hey, idk if this has been requested but I watched a behind the scenes thing for TWD and the director was talking about Daryl’s sexual situation and he said he thought he was a virgin bc he felt he wasn’t the type of person to get close enough w someone to have sex w them so if u have the time could u please write a smut where it’s Daryl’s first time and the reader takes his virginity and he’s like shy and nervous bc he doesn’t wanna be bad at it?

Summary: I really loved this idea. Can you imagine? Daryl is a virgin and the reader takes his virginity. Season 3. Prison. This one got long, enjoy!


You looked over and watched the man that was the center of all your thoughts since you had joined Rick’s group at the prison. You watched as Daryl’s strong arms pierced a steel rod swiftly through the chain linked fence and connect with walker face, on the other side. You stare at his determined clenched jaw and his eyes focused straight ahead at the task in front of him. He heaved his body back and then forth again, piercing another. You watched him as he worked in the steaming heat, although it never seemed to slow you him down, he was hard working man.

You had had feelings for Daryl since nearly the minute you had arrived at the prison. You had been rescued from some walkers by Maggie and Glenn and taken in to the prison. You had only been here for a few weeks, but you had wasted no time at all getting to know people. Maggie and Glenn made sure to introduce you around to everyone and always invited you to eat with them and the others. You were used to being a loner, but you thought it was nice that they tried to include you.

Every meal the entire group would gather around a large table in the middle of the cell block. They would all laugh and talk merrily with eachother, Maggie had told her that things had become peaceful for the group again after setting up the prison encampment. It had been a long time since any of them had a chance to relax a little and call a place home again. You had never had much of a home even in the old world, you were orphaned as a young girl and spent most of your life in the foster care system. You learned real young how to protect yourself, you had had to.

You look back over at Daryl working the fence and rub your neck, peering at the man questioningly. You had been here nearly two weeks and the man had barely said a word to anyone, he worked his ass off and was one of the most respected from what you had gathered, you wondered why he was so silent. You wondered if he had had a similar life, you had known kids who simply, “shut off,” after being in the system so long. He seemed like such a good guy and in this world that was rare. You smile a little to yourself, taking him in and letting your eyes wander gratuitously up and down his gorgeous frame. He was so damn beautiful to look at, you thought as you bite your lip and roam his unsuspecting body.

“I wouldn’t go workin’ too hard on that crush of yours, Y/N.”

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Letting the Girl’s Breathe

Pairing: Dean x reader, Sam

Word Count: 2254

Warnings: Naughty language, very brief angst, crushing!reader, mainly fluff, brief nudity

Summary: You are in a jam with the police when a hunt goes a little sideways on you, in an attempt to save Dean from being arrested, you expose yourself. 

A/N: So this was for @beckawinchester challenge, my prompts were a church and the quote “You’re under arrest for public indecency!” This is what I came up with. I hope I did it justice. Also a shout out to @avasmommy224 for awesomely beta’ing this fic on short notice. Thank you. 

There was a thunderous clapping of footsteps as the men rushed up the steps after you, you were worried about the way the rickety staircase was trembling that your combined weight was going to have the whole thing crashing down underneath you. Your hand instinctively found the narrow whitewashed railing in a desperate bid to keep you safe, even though a deeper part of you knew that if the worst did happen it wouldn’t do you any good. You tried to focus your attention on something other than what was happening behind you and your eyes went straight to Dean.

Watching the way his shoulder muscles rippled underneath the thin black material of the t-shirt he was wearing and the little spots of sweat that darkened the material at the small of his back. You thought about how he was the strongest man you knew, and not just because he was physically an awesome hunter, it was something about the way he was always able to persevere through the most difficult situations, desperate to save the people he loved, that had you truly in awe of him. Right now though that feeling was slightly dwarfed by the predicament that he had gotten you into, and you were feeling vaguely annoyed.

“What are we going to do?” Dean said as he turned to face you at the top of the staircase.

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Back To You (Jungkook; Fluff)

~This is for you kookie bear~

I stare out the window and watch as the rain falls. I grasp onto my stuffed giraffe and my phone lights up. Meadow was updating me on how they were. Everyone at this point was a little older. I had moved with my boyfriend and everyone was out living their lives. I smile as the familiar “#Meadowdaily’s” pop up following the string of compliments. Everyone finally seemed contempt with their lives. I chime in with a few compliments then tell the girls I have to get ready for bed. It was kinda the truth. Ever since my boyfriend left for tour, I had sleepless nights. He would always be next to me cuddling and giving me kisses. I had missed him. I missed my frog bf and his stupid frog cuddles.

I get up from the small window pane and turn on soft music. I decide to take a quick shower. When I step out of the shower I start to brush my hair. I always have to do it as soon as I get out because it would get tangled if I don’t. As I finish changing into my pj’s and brushing my hair, “Nothing Like Us” started to play. Soon I was laying on the bed curled up in a ball hoping for Jungkook to walk in at any moment. I knew it was a long shot but I messaged him.

Me: “Jungkookie….Frog man…..Frog bf….I miss you.”

Jk: “Maya bear….Frog woman…Frog gf….I miss you too. I will be home soon my love. Just one more week and I will be back in your arms and running my fingers through your long soft brown hair.”

Me: “I hope that week goes by soon. I will wait patiently. See you soon my stupid frog man.”

Jk: “See you soon my stupid frog woman.”

I hear the click of my phone locking and I get under the sheets. Slowly I start to doze off into a deep sleep……

I wake up to the sound of music coming from the kitchen.

“This must be a dream. Jungkook isn’t coming home for another week.” I think to myself

I slowly get up from my bed and grab a pillow. I sneak up to the kitchen yet no one, but the speaker blasting music, is there. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. I rest the pillow next to my legs and sigh. Suddenly I feel two arms wrap around my waist and I scream as I wiggle my way out and hit the person with a pillow.

“Ouch! Why did you do that for?” A familiar voice said

My eyes widen as soon as I saw who was standing in front of me with a smirk on his face.

“Jungkook! Oh my God! I thought you said you will be gone one more week!” I exclaim as I try to hold in my laugh

“I was but the rest of the schedule got canceled. Why are you laughing and why did you think that a pillow would protect you?” He says as he laughs

I shrug my arms and basically jump onto him snuggling my head into the crook of his neck. He still had that same smell to him. I smile and giggle.

“Man did I miss you.” He says as he slowly lets me down

“I missed you too frog man. I was worried you wouldn’t come back home soon.” I say

“Maya frog….I will always come back to you.” He says

anonymous asked:

hi! i'd definitely like to ask winter/holiday cuddles from zen and jumin! if you'd do this, i'd thank you forever. they are my most favorite characters in mystic messenger. thank you!

a|n: your request is my command! here you go! a cuddling request for zen and jumin, on-the-go~~ sorry for the long wait! i hope you guys like it!

Zen/Jumin + MC cuddle scenarios


❝Hey, I-found-you-lying-around-and-I-felt-sleepy-too-so-I’ll-join-you Cuddles❞

Today was not only physically but emotionally exhausting that you decided to go home right after your day’s business. Your responsibilities had, just like any other day, gotten the best of your energy. With a wandering mind and a tired body, you barely even noticed the first snowfall of the month which apparently was today. The comfort of your home was too inviting that the moment your foot broke free of your shoes’ evil tight grasp, you flopped down the nearest soft abode you can ever find. Time suddenly had no meaning at all as you felt the heavy lids of your eyes gently close themselves, inviting you to a soft and peaceful slumber.

After what seemed like an eternity, you mildly woke up when you smelled a soft, sweet scent hovering through the air, making your nose tug a little in its wake. You raised a hand as you rubbed the lids of your eyes, forcing them open as you squinted to a now dark living room. You fell asleep on the sofa. Night had finally won the battle against the day. Adjusting through the darkness was a bit of a bother since every time you shut your eyes, you can see little stars once you open them again. Your eyes caught the blaring red letters of your digital clock hanging up the wall above the TV set you and Zen bought just last year.

You moaned a bit when you felt your shoulders ache probably because of lying down in the same position for quite some time. Your eyes then traveled towards the small window pane, noticing that half of it was already covered in a thick blanket of white.


Upon realizing what you just saw, you squealed blithely, your excitement getting the best of you. Regardless of your age, snow still excites your system. The thought of you being able to make snowmen and snow angels still brought tingles to your spine. You only stopped when you heard a light ‘ow’ just beside you and an arm who seemed to pull you closer from behind. Then and there, your blood rushed to your cheeks, making your entire face the same color as the Red Christmas Lights flashing outside the window.

        “Mhm …” he moaned for a bit, making you cover your mouth as you realized that you were making too much noise. Zen’s voice was a mixture of a hoarse, deep-sounding sleepy one. Your eyes scanned below his head and you almost yelped in surprise when you saw him without his shirt on as he slept peacefully beside you. You were a bit incredulous with the fact that someone can sleep without their shirt on with such low temperatures outside.

As your gaze lingered down his body, you couldn’t help but think of naughty thoughts as your eyes traced every crack and shape of his seemingly bashful abs who were, by the way, sharing their naked glory with you. Zen did take care of his body quite well. You brought a finger and traced the shape of his chest and when he stirred with your touch, you immediately brought it back.

But before you can fully take your finger away, his strong hand had captured your own, gently pulling you closer to his warmth at the very same time. Little did you know, he had been awake for quite some time when you were gazing at his luscious body. You yelped in shock as you watched how he cracked a small grin towards your way with one of his eyes open. His ruby red orb was gazing at you naughtily, your hand now being kissed by his soft, full lips. He traced kisses from each of your fingers down to your hand and to your arm, sending bolts to your nerves.

         “Hmm~ Like what you see?” Zen playfully asked as he now enveloped you to a strong hug, dragging you down to lie with him again from your sitting position earlier. You tried to smack his arms that were now snaked just below your breasts but it turned out to be quite a playful hit.
His low chuckle made you blush further as he gently peppered the top of your head with small kissies. “You smell so nice …”

His sweet, loving voice made you sigh against his touch. You watched at how visible your breath became due to the cold, snowy weather. You squirmed against his hold so that you can turn and hug him properly with the front of your body. He laughed at your movements and it was your turn to embrace his strong chest with your soft, weak arms.
        “Zen? It’s snowing! Have you seen what it looks outside? I wanna make some snow angels! Don’t you like snow angels?” you said as you tilted your head up to look at him. With his attention now towards you, he graced your eyes with a soft smile as he pulled you again to a tight, squishy hug. And all be damned since he smelled like after shave and chocolates that only made you want to devour him whole.
Right then and there.

        “I can see that, babe.” he commented as he snuggled you close to him like what a little kid would do to his hotdog pillow. You laughed at how, despite his strong physique, he was holding you quite gently with restricted force. “Let’s stay here though. I like how you perfectly feel against my body.”

Your face heat up when you realized how intimate the cuddle position was. Your legs were intertwined with his, his arms hugging you so close, your breasts squished gently against his strong chest and his manhood just in the right position, if he may wish to tease you, to rub itself in between your thighs.

Apparently, Zen noticed this as he brought his lips to the tip of your ear and whispered, albeit with a minor hint of playfulness, the words:

     “Princess, I happen to know something more fun than that …”

You deff smacked him then and there.


❝I-miss-you-so-I’ll-come-back-to-you-immediately Cuddles❞

Weeks. It’s been weeks since you last saw him. He flew to another country to apparently take care of a contract with the Oil Prince’s son and he won’t be back until 2 days before Christmas eve. 2 days before Christmas eve! How ridiculous was that?
Your growing longing and loneliness felt very much evident as time passed by each day. You ached to be with him, every inch of your body wanted him close to you — to be able to do whatever normal couples do during Christmas.
It was even your first Holiday together.
The Christmassy air suddenly didn’t feel so Christmassy at all.

Being stuck inside his penthouse with no one else to accompany you aside his bodyguards was unnerving. His men wouldn’t even dare lay a single look at you! If not for Elizabeth the 3rd you swore you could’ve gone mad already. Even Jaehee, Zen, Seven and Yoosung were celebrating their holidays happily to the point that they couldn’t meet you even if you asked, no, scratch that, almost begged for their company.

One late afternoon filled with nothing but silence prompted you to go down the resident Coffee Shop of the building. But instead of getting calmed with the scent of ground coffee beans, your eyes almost twitched in annoyance with the surroundings. Every table were filled with couples. What is this, Valentines Day? With a loud sigh, you left the place.
While walking back, you thought of how you’ve wanted to hold his hand during a short stroll on the snow-filled walk paths while talking about anything and everything. Perhaps, an afternoon stay outside his rooftop garden would suffice as well as you brew him his favorite flavor of tea. You imagined him in one of his winter clothing. You’ve thought of watching movies together as well or show him the new techniques you’ve learned regarding tea ceremony and tea brewing. He always told you he loved the way you handled your ‘etiquette of tea’ every afternoon.

You just wanted him by your side, that’s all.

The first snowfall of the year had been several weeks ago. Sadly, that was also the time when Jumin left for business. Phone calls seemed to not be enough anymore. Everyday, Jumin makes sure to give you a call to ask you about random things you did for the day. You’d always tell him what you did for the entire course of the day. If the length of the call permits, it was always you who led things from one to another. You almost initiated phone sex if not with him being inside a board room filled with potential business partners.

All the Christmas Carols you can hear outside did not seem so appealing at the moment as you laid back on the couch beside the large window pane of his living room, which, by the way, boasts a grand view of the metropolitan snow-covered state. Elizabeth the 3rd cuddled up on your tummy, enjoying your body heat. The Television served as a soft background sound that slowly lulled you to sleep.

For what seemed like hours of sleeping, you jerked up awake when you stretched your entire body, a bolt of sudden realization hitting you like thunder. ‘If you stretched far enough, you might fall down.’ But you were surprised to see yourself covered in the soft, dark blue silk sheets of Jumin’s bedroom. Adjusting your eyes from the darkness of the place, you trailed your vision and you almost jumped in surprise when you saw a mop of black hair beside you together with an arm wrapped around your frame. You gasped when you realize who it was, your chest swelling up with emotions you didn’t know you’d acquire through his absence.

You brought your finger to poke his cheeks, trying to feel if he was real or not. A part of you was screaming that everything must only be a product of your dreams, perhaps making you think he was real or any of this was real.
But when your finger felt the soft skin of his cheeks and when he stirred a bit from his sleep, your eyes started to water. You remembered it was still a week before his supposed date of return.

He’s real.
He’s here.
He’s right beside you.

Jumin’s gentle breathing continued as he tightened his hug around you, making you fall back into the bed. He snuggled his face in between the crook of your neck and shoulder, making you inhale his favorite expensive perfume. You noted that he was wearing a black turtle neck long-sleeve underneath his black leather jacket. Your nose scrunched when you saw his baggage just beside the door of the bedroom. It seems he just arrived. You played with his hair for a bit while staring through his sleeping face.
He was so peaceful he looked divine.

       “Mm … You can stare at me all day tomorrow during breakfast, MC.”
Jumin spoke in his low, bedroom voice as he traced circles on the side of your boob to where his wrapped arm can reach. You yelped due to the very ticklish sensation he was giving you but you couldn’t smack his arm away. You actually liked how it felt.

       “Wha — Hey! I-I’m not staring at you! I … I just missed you, that’s all! I - I’m not doing this on purpose! And why are you even here already — ” Panic rose up your tone when you were busted but you were only met with a low, baritone chuckle. His pattern drawing on the side of your boob stopped when he fully grasped it whole, making you moan a bit.

      “Hush, my love. We’ll talk more when the sun rises.” He ordered albeit with a gentle voice. You felt Elizabeth the 3rd crawl up on the side of the bed, doing some massaging movements with her paws before she seemed to settle to lay down there. But your entire body was more alert due to a certain finger drawing several patterns on a very inappropriate area of your body. You kept on squirming against his touch. Jesus! Whoever said someone won’t die from a pleasant surprise should be sued!

       “Sleep. Or I’ll make you sleep with me,” he cooed as he snuggled closer, locking the lower half of your body with his leg seemingly using you as his very own pillow. “A different kind of sleep, per se.”

You definitely tried to go back to sleep.
But you failed miserably.

Better With You By My Side

prompt: Dan and Phil are both sons of rich families and are sent to ballroom dancing lessons. Because there is a shortage of girls, Dan and Phil end up as partners. Phil really doesn’t want to be there and Dan doesn’t either, but is so frustrated by the fact Phil doesn’t want to dance with him he is determined to get him to.

a/n: so yea i haven’t written a chaptered fic in a while but um if ppl like it i might do a weekly schedule!!


Chapter One

“Adam?” Dan bursts into his brothers bedroom.
“No, you can’t.” Adam immediately waves him off, barely takes his eyes off his magazine. “You still haven’t paid me last week’s £20 back yet.”
Dan rolls his eyes. “I don’t want money. Have you seen my new shirt anywhere?”
Adam looks up indifferently. “The black one?”
Dan nods.
Adam’s face suddenly lights up. “With the cravat?”
Dan’s nods become increasingly hopeful.
“Nope.” Adam suddenly picks up his magazine, kicking his legs back up on the bed.
Dan fixes a steady glare on his older brother, before slamming his door behind him and rushing back into the hallway where he had originally started. He avoids mentioning to the housekeeper when questioned why are you running around like a baby elephant? that he needs to be dressed and ready for the chauffer at 11:30.
As he’s still standing in the long hallway, fully clothed in his pyjamas and there’s still no sign of his new shirt.
And it’s now 11:20.

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1: Coffee Shop

Simon had been working at Slats for a month now, and he was already bored out of his mind.

Don’t get him wrong, he thought the coffee shop itself was great—cozy and comfortable, yet not claustrophobic. The whole storefront was made of small panes of glass, some of them brightly colored. The ceiling was covered in a criss-crossed array of old wooden pallets (hence the name) and ivy looped across the walls with reckless abandon.

He enjoyed coming to work if only to see the different people that wandered in each day. There were a few regulars—the man with the bushy ginger beard who frequently dressed in a tweed suit (ordering a black coffee with one teaspoon of brown sugar), the woman with the red beret and irritable corgi that lurked under her table (she would order peach tea). Then there was the group of chavs that Simon became quite fascinated with (they would covertly order hibiscus lattes like it was somehow a threat to their masculinity, then punch each other enthusiastically as they left).

But despite this strange array of people that found their way into Slats, Simon was bored.

Simply put, it wasn’t very exciting making drinks all day. It was repetitive and dull and the coffee grinder gave him a headache. Occasionally someone would order something bizarre, and for a moment the boredom would cease ever so slightly, but then he would finish and the boredom would creep back like a persistent fungus.

He told himself he wasn’t going to work here forever, and to just suck it up and get on with the job. He was working here part time while he went to uni, to help pay for classes and rent.

But still…

Simon hated being bored.

It made him do things he would normally have enough sense to avoid.

Like talking to customers he had a feeling he should stay away from.


Two months passed, slowly and uneventfully.

Then, one day, everything changed.


It was a Tuesday. Simon had been working for about two hours and a dull headache had begun to bloom behind his left eyebrow (curse that damn coffee grinder). Outside, London had begun to grow dark, the sunlight being replaced by meandering fog and dusky twilight. He checked his watch.

7:46 pm.

A little over four more hours of his shift.

God, he wanted to kick something.

There weren’t many people in the shop. Only the woman with the corgi, sitting in a corner reading a newspaper.

Simon put his head between his hands, leaning over the counter.

The door chimed, signaling a newcomer.

At first, Simon didn’t bother to look up. He heard the click-clack of fancy shoes approaching slowly. A moment passed. Then, a gentle cough permeated the silence.

Simon raised his head.

“What do you want?” he said tiredly.

The man blinked, lifting a single dark eyebrow.

“Is that any way to talk to a customer?” he asked.

Simon stood, regarding the stranger. He looked like a fancy private-school student, wearing a perfectly-fitted overcoat and dress pants. His hair hung loose around his face, the color of freshly-spilled ink.

It was his eyes that gave him away. His eyes that told Simon that this wasn’t just any fancy private-school student.

He had eyes like storm clouds. And yes, Simon realized just after the thought crossed his mind that this was a fairly cliche thing to think, but it was true. They were a dark gray, threaded with lighter shades of silver.

They were mesmerizing.

…And currently filled with a look that Simon interpreted as cold amusement.

“Whatever,” said Simon, trying his hardest to sound unfazed. “What’ll it be?”

The man let his eyes drift across the menu lazily, running his fingers over the counter as he did. Simon noticed an ornate ring on his right hand—a bronze ring in the shape of a beetle.

“What would you recommend?” he asked, making eye contact with Simon.

Simon shivered involuntarily, hoping it wasn’t visible.

“To be honest, everything pretty much tastes the same,” said Simon, glancing back at the man’s fingers (they looked less threatening). “But the mint mocha’s are alright.”

“I’ve never heard an employee talk poorly of their own merchandise,” he said. Simon noted that his voice sounded like winter ice—cold, crisp and beautiful in a dangerous sort of way. The sort of voice perfect for lulling someone into a trap.

(Simon realized he didn’t much like this fellow).

“Yeah, well, I don’t much like the merchandise,” said Simon, chancing a look back into his face. There was a strange expression there.

“Hmpf,” he replied, reaching into his coat and fishing out a pristine leather wallet. “One mint mocha, then.”

Simon turned toward the preparation counter too quickly, knocking over a stack of paper cups. The fell to the ground in a cacophony of hollow sound. Simon felt his neck grow warm as he heard a slight chuckle from beyond the counter.

He threw together the drink haphazardly, just wanting to get it over with. He wanted this strange person to leave. He hated people like this—people that looked at him like he was worth less than they were.

“Here,” he said shortly, sliding the drink across the counter into the man’s waiting palm.

“Thank you…Simon,” he said leaning over slightly to look at the name tag pinned to Simon’s apron.

Simon turned away, pretending to busy himself with cleaning the coffee grinder.

The man sat down at a table close by. Out of the corner of his eye Simon watched as he gently pulled a glass box out of his backpack and set it down on the table.

Simon couldn’t help but stare full-on when he realized what it was. It was a beetle, large enough to fill someone’s hand.

“What, you’ve never seen a beetle before?” asked the man, addressing Simon without looking at him.

Simon swallowed hard and pushed a hand through his hair.

“Course I have. But not one like that.”

After a brief pause the other man said “Well, come have a look at it.”

Simon was tempted to refuse, but his curiosity got the better of him. He left the counter and sat in the chair opposite the stranger.

“I’m Baz, by the way,” he said, tucking a loose strand of glossy black hair behind his ear. “Figured you should know my name if you know mine.”

“I suppose,” said Simon, trying not to envy Baz’s politeness. It would be so much easier if he acted like a complete arse.

“This is Henry,” said Baz, leaning over the glass box. His gray eyes seemed to gleam in pride when he looked at the insect.“A specimen of mine. Rhinoceros beetle.”

“That explains the horns,” murmured Simon, leaning over as well to get a closer look. “Why do you have it?”

“I work for the Natural History Museum,” said Baz, his eyes still on the beetle. “I’m an entomologist—bug scientist,” he clarified, when guessing correctly that Simon had no idea what that was. “I’m in charge of taking care of insects, living and dead. This one’s moving to a new exhibit, so I need to take it back to my flat for a few days.”

“And you’re not…worried it’ll escape while you’re sleeping?” questioned Simon. While he couldn’t say that he was afraid of insects, he definitely wouldn’t feel at ease with a creature like that in his house.

“Of course not,” said Baz matter-of-factly. He sat back in his chair, his posture almost annoyingly perfect. “I’ve had plenty of insects stay over in my apartment. Doesn’t bother me.”

“Doesn’t it bother your…girlfriend?” asked Simon. The question hung in the air awkwardly.

Baz gave a low chuckle.

“Girlfriend? No, I don’t have one of those.”

Simon coughed in an attempt to break the heavy silence, but the attempt was futile.

“So…why entomology?” he asked instead.

Baz ran his tongue over his bottom lip quickly, almost too quickly for Simon to see it (he ignored the strange thoughts this stirred up).

“I’ve always been fascinated with them—how they’re so lovely, yet so generally feared and even despised,” he began. His eyes wandered somewhere over Simon’s shoulder, staring far away. “It saddens me that they’re disrespected the way they are.”

“Hm,” said Simon. He noted the tone of Baz’s voice, and guessed that entomology meant something far deeper to him, whether he knew it or not. “So you’re telling me, if you pulled back your shower curtain and saw a spider in there, you wouldn’t kill it?’

“Of course I’d kill it,” said Baz smoothly, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. “I don’t study arachnids.”

Simon laughed at the unexpectedness of this response, slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle it. Baz cocked an eyebrow.

When the silence crept back in Baz took a sip of his coffee, grimacing slightly. “You’re right. This tastes like pond water.”

“I never said it tasted like pond water,” snapped Simon.

“It’s fine,” said Baz. He smiled this time, a real one. Simon liked the way it changed his face—turned him beautiful. “Now, I must be going. Got to get Henry home.”

Baz picked up the terrarium and tucked it beneath his arm. He held out his other hand to Simon to shake.

“Pleasure meeting you,” he said, back to business. “Stop by the museum sometime—I’ll show you something amazing.”

Simon took his hand and shook it, trying not to blush.

“I might just do that,” he said with a smile of his own.

Baz blinked and disappeared out into the London twilight.

As Simon turned back to the counter, he couldn’t help but think that perhaps this job wasn’t so boring after all.

This was what I came up with for the first day of the Carry On Countdown! I’m so excited to be one of the hosts for this event and can’t wait to see what everyone else comes up with. I hope you enjoyed it! I personally really liked the idea of Entomologist!Baz. Make sure to tag @carryon-countdown so we can see what you’ve made!

King in the North

(Jon x Reader)

Words: 1,993

A kinda-sorta sequel to this smutty bit here.

The shouts rumbled like thunder over the Bay of Ice. “KING IN THE NORTH! KING IN THE NORTH!” The very stones of Winterfell seemed to shake beneath the chanting, pounding of cups, and stamping of feet. “KING IN THE NORTH! KING IN THE NORTH!” And even from your far, far place in the hall, you could read the fear in Jon’s eyes.

Keep reading

Metal Torture - Chapter 1

Author’s Note: I have been writing this story for a while now, posting on AO3, and from the super encouragement from the lovely and amazing @spillinginkwithlove I’ve decided to share the first chapter and see what type of response I get.  This story is along the formula of JokerxReader, full-length, rough, quite smutty, and I hope you like the way I’ve portrayed Mister J.  So, this entire work is definitely 18+. Enjoy my lovelies.

Warnings: Language, Mention of blood and violence  


My heels clicked across the floor as I made my way through the waiting room of my dental office. Pictures adorned the walls showcasing before and after shots of my patients. I was the top dental surgeon and orthodontist in Gotham City, awards from throughout the years were posted on the walls, many accolades for my work in reconstructive dentistry and orthodontics.  

Hitching my bag up on my shoulder, my right hand reached out for the handle on the door, my left clutching my keys. The door flew open before I could reach it and I stumbled back in surprise, sprawling across the floor, the bag and its contents scattering around me. I had closed my eyes in surprise as I had hit the ground and when I opened them I found myself staring at a gun.

“Get up!” A voice commanded.

Keep reading

Rescue (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Request: Hi! Can I request a reader x Bucky where the Avengers rescue the reader from somewhere/thing and they add her to the team because she can control the elements, and her and Bucky fall for each other? Yay fluff!

Word Count: 2,200ish

A/N: I hope you like this @missaesme :)


You’d been taken from your home by HYDRA 2 years ago and had been tested on rigorously during your time in captivity. They’d wiped your mind on occasion so you knew no different than the daily waking, going to a lab, being tested on, put back in your cell and sleeping.

You were made to wear a straight jacket when you were in your cell, the scientists had told you that you were the most powerful of all their projects and could cause a lot of problems if they weren’t controlled properly.

One day, you were sat waiting in your cell to be taken for testing. Nobody came. It had been at least an hour later than when the scientists were usually unlocking your cell and leading you to the lab.

You stood up shakily and walked to the glass front of your cell and looked down the corridor as far as you could. There were no scientists or security guards, and all the other ‘projects’ were peering out of their cells too with the same look of confusion on their faces.

You didn’t know what was happening but something in the back of your head told you it was bad so you stayed as far away from the front of your cell as you could, tucked into one of the back corners.

You’d sat there for at least another hour before noise came from down the corridor but you were tired and your brain couldn’t function properly, as you hadn’t had food for the last few days or so. You were almost in a trance, so didn’t notice people on the other side of your glass. One man pounded on the glass but you didn’t flinch.

“Jesus, look at her, she hasn’t even registered we’re here.” He said as he tried knocking a bit louder and moving along so you were more likely to see him.

It took you a few seconds but you became aware of the pounding and looked up at the man behind the glass. He looked very menacing and you pushed yourself further into the corner, but when he saw your fright, his features softened and he gave a small smile.

“Can you hear me?” He asked from his side of the cell and you nodded in reply.

“I’m gonna shoot this glass so cover your face.” He pulled a gun out from a holster on this thigh.

Since you couldn’t move your arms, you brought your knees up to your chest and shoved your head between your knees. You heard the gunshot and looked up to see the man kicking at the glass to make s large enough hole.

He strode over to you and knelt down, “We’re here to help, okay. We’re gonna get you out of here. I’m Bucky.” He helped you up and took your straight jacket off. As he was undoing the last part, you noticed one of the scientists with a gun coming towards your cell and with a swipe of your hand, the man was blown off his feet. You took a gun from the holster on Bucky’s thigh and shot the man in the head. The man fell to the floor, lifeless.

You turned to give the gun back to Bucky but he was stood there in shock and your actions. He slowly took the gun back from you and led you down the hallway, looking into every cell to make sure nobody was left behind.

At the end of the hallway you were met by some of the other projects and various other people who you didn’t know but Bucky seemed to know them so you assumed they were okay to trust.

You were all piled onto a plane of some kind and flown to a place called The Avengers Tower. You were given food and water and had a few medical tests completed before you were sent to a room that had a bed in it. From the brainwashing, you didn’t really know what it was so chose the sit on the floor in the corner.

A few minutes later, the man from earlier came to your room, “What’re you doing on the floor? There’s a bed right here.” He came and picked you up and laid you on the bed. After a few minutes of sitting on it, you decided you liked it.

“So what’s your name?” He asked from beside you.

“My name?” You looked down at your lap. “They called me Project-142.”

“So you don’t remember your name before that?”

“I don’t remember anything before that.”

He was about the speak when there was a knock at the half open door.

“I’ll be right back.” Bucky spoke and you nodded.

He stepped out to talk to Tony.

“Does she remember anything?”

“Only whatever they were doing to her in those labs. Back at that facility though, she made the air knock a man over and then grabbed my gun and shot him, clean in the head.” Bucky spoke and looked at you through the small glass pane in the door.

“Maybe we should keep her in until she starts to remember things, maybe we could train her and she could join us.” Tony spoke.

“Give her a break Tony. We only just got her out of there, she has to have some adjustment time.”

“Of course, yeah. I’ll get her a proper room, not one of these.” He looked at the medical bay they were currently stood in.

“She can stay on my floor.” Bucky said as Tony started to walk away “She’ll most definitely have nightmares, I’m the one with the most experience with these things, I’ll be able to calm her down the quickest.”

“Alright Barnes, I’ll get a room set up, stay with her in the mean time. FRIDAY will let you know when it’s ready.”

“Thanks Stark.”

He came back into the room and sat on the end of the bed. “We’re gonna move you to a nicer room soon, you’ll be on the same floor as me.”

“A nicer room? This one is nice enough, I don’t remember ever having a bed before.”

“Trust me, this isn’t anything on the one they’re setting up for you. You know, I was once a HYDRA experiment too, I can help you remember things and get better.” He smiled at you.

“Did they give you this?” You asked as you reached for his metal arm.


“Well they gave me powers. I can control the elements and I have pretty fast reflexes.” You moved your hand around and the water in the glass on the table started to move around.

“Wow, that’s amazing. So that’s what you did to that scientist back at the facility, with the air.” He looked at you with wonder.

You nodded and blushed under his gaze. You put the water back into its glass picked it up to take a sip.

You both sat and talked, sharing memories of HYDRA and him trying to get you to remember anything.

“Mr Barnes, the room on your floor is ready now.” A voice spoke.

You jumped and grabbed onto Bucky in fright, and the glass of water fell onto the floor.

“Hey it’s okay. That’s just FRIDAY. She helps out around the tower.” He rubbed your back soothingly and stood up, picking you up and carried you to the elevator.

He put you down in the elevator and you rode down to his floor. You walked out and he took you to the door down the hall, “This’ll be your room now.” He smiled at you as you opened the door, jaw slack at how much room there was and how nice everything was.

“I get to stay here?” You looked back at him with a confused expression.

“Yep, you’re gonna stay with us until you get your memory back and maybe even longer if you want to.”


“Yeah, you could even join our team and help us with missions and stuff. Your powers are pretty neat, they’d be helpful once you learn to control them.”

You smiled at him and hugged him tightly, “Thank you for all this Bucky.”

“You don’t need to thank me, this is all Tony’s doing. I just offered to share a floor with you.” He smiled down at you.

“Well thank you for that then.” You grinned and walked over to your bed. You sat on it, it was much softer than the one earlier.

“I’ll leave you to explore, I’ll be down the hall if you need me.” He waved and walked away.

You walked around your new living space for a while, inspecting everything, you’d have to ask Bucky about a lot of the things in there, you didn’t know what a lot of them were.

But for now, you were tired and you laid down on the bed and fell asleep pretty quickly.

You awoke a few hours later, however, shouting and drenched in sweat. You heard footsteps from down the hall and braced yourself for the angry scientists but only saw Bucky.

“Hey doll, are you alright?” He asked quietly as he walked over to your bed.

You were breathing heavily and could barely speak but when Bucky sat next to you and pulled you into a hug, you started to cry.

He kissed the top of your head, “Was it a nightmare?” He asked softly and felt you nod. “It’s alright, I’m here. You’re safe, nothing’s gonna happen to you.” He rocked you back and forth until he felt your breathing even out.

“Th-thank you Bucky.” You wiped at your face and looked at his bow soaked t-shirt, “I’m sorry about your shirt.” You looked down in shame.

He nudged you with his elbow, “Don’t worry about it, doll. I’ve had many nights like this where I’ve woken up covered in sweat and tears but didn’t have anyone there to help. You’ve got me though, that’s why I told them to put you on my floor. So I can help.”

You looked at him and hugged him again, “Thank you, would you mind staying for a bit?” You asked timidly.

“Of course. Do you mind?” He pointed to the covered, you nodded and he slipped under them and wrapped his metal arm around you to keep you cool. “It’ll take time, I know I took a while, but you’ll come round and you’ll be back to yourself soon enough.”

He carried on speaking absentmindedly until he felt you fall asleep against him and then he let himself fall asleep.

The next few weeks went pretty similarly, you’d wake up from a nightmare, Bucky would come in and lay with you for the rest of the night. Then it became a habit that you’d just go to bed with Bucky, and that was when the nightmares started to occur less.

In the few weeks that you’d stayed at the tower, Tony had managed to find a little bit of information on you from the drives they found at the facility. They found out your name was (y/f/n) (y/l/n). You’d been in HYDRA’s captivity for just over 2 years and a lot of other things that proved helpful when helping you control your powers.

After a few more weeks, Bucky has gained the courage to ask you out (after Steve’s persistent nagging that 'the look you’re giving her is killing me man’ 'man up and ask her out already’).

He’d come to your room and found you dancing to some old 40s music he let you borrow. He was in awe at the way your body moved and he was guaranteed you must have been a dancer before HYDRA got you. You turned around and saw him standing there, “Bucky! You have to dance with me!” You grinned and pulled him over to the middle of the room.

You put your arms around his neck and he tentatively put his hand on your hips and you both swayed to the music, he smiled at the way you hummed along to the tune and in this moment he swore he never wanted to be anywhere else more than where he was right now.

“Hey, uh (y/n)?” He said quietly.

You looked up, “yeah Buck?”

“Uhm, I was-uh wondering if you wanted to uh maybe go out with uhm… me?” He stuttered and you stopped dancing to look up at him more intently now.

He took your pause as a decline and said “You know what, just i-ignore me.” He started to walk away but you grabbed his wrist and he looked back at you.

“Are you serious?” You asked as you pulled him back over and held his hand.

“Uhm, yeah?” He spoke and rubbed the back of his neck with the other hand.

“I’d love to Buck.” You squealed and hugged him so tight he could barely breathe.

“Really?” He was in shock that you agreed.

“Of course Bucky. I love you so much.” You said and then quickly covered your mouth in shock that you’d let that slip so quickly.

“Me too, doll.” He smiled down at you.

You removed your hand and moved it to cup his face. “I’m so glad you asked me, because I wanted to but I was too afraid to.”

He leant down and gave you a long chaste kiss.


Samuel Beckett - A piece of monologue (from “Beckett on film’‘)

Birth was the death of him. Again. Words are few. Dying too. Birth was the death of him. Ghastly grinning ever since. Up at the lid to come. In cradle and crib. At suck first fiasco. With the first totters. From mammy to nanny and back. All the way. Bandied back and forth. So ghastly grinning on. From funeral to funeral. To now. This night. Two and a half billion seconds. Again. Two and a half billion seconds. Hard to believe so few. From funeral to funeral. Funerals of … he all but said of loved ones. Thirty thousand nights. Hard to believe so few. Born dead of night. Sun long sunk behind the larches. New needles turning green. In the room dark gaining. Till faint light from standard lamp. Wick turned low. And now. This night. Up at nightfall. Every nightfall. Faint light in room. Whence unknown. None from window. No. Next to none. No such thing as none. Gropes to window and stares out. Stands there staring out. Stock still staring out. Nothing stirring in that black vast. Gropes back in the end to where the lamp is standing. Was standing. When last went out. Loose matches in right-hand pocket. Strikes one on his buttock the way his father taught him. Takes off milk white globe and sets it down. Match goes out. Strikes a second as before. Takes off chimney. Smoke-clouded. Holds it in left hand. Match goes out. Strikes a third as before and sets it to wick. Puts back chimney. Match goes out. Puts back globe. Turns wick low. Backs away to edge of light and turns to face east. Blank wall. So nightly. Up. Socks. Nightgown. Window. Lamp. Backs away to edge of light and stands facing blank wall. Covered with pictures once. Pictures of … he all but said of loved ones. Unframed. Unglazed. Pinned to wall with drawing-pins. All shapes and sizes. Down one after another. Gone. Torn to shreds and scattered. Strewn all over the floor. Not at one sweep. No sudden fit of … no word. Ripped from the wall and torn to shreds one by one. Over the years. Years of nights. Nothing on the wall now but the pins. Not all. Some out with the wrench. Some still pinning a shred. So stands there facing blank wall. Dying on. No more no less. No. Less. Less to die. Ever less. Like light at nightfall. Stands there facing east. Blank pinpocked surface once white in shadow. Could once name them all. There was father. That grey void. There mother. That other. There together. Smiling. Wedding day. There all three. That grey blot. There alone. He alone. So on. Not now. Forgotten. All gone so long. Gone. Ripped off and torn to shreds. Scattered all over the floor. Swept out of the way under the bed and left. Thousand shreds under the bed with the dust and spiders. All the … he all but said the loved ones. Stands there facing the wall staring beyond. Nothing there either. Nothing stirring there either. Nothing stirring anywhere. Nothing to be seen anywhere. Nothing to be heard anywhere. Room once full of sounds. Faint sounds. Whence unknown. Fewer and fainter as time wore on. Nights wore on. None now. No. No such thing as none. Rain some nights still slant against the panes. Or dropping gentle on the place beneath. Even now. Lamp smoking through wick turned low. Strange. Faint smoke issuing through vent in globe. Low ceiling stained by night after night of this. Dark shapeless blot on surface elsewhere white. Once white. Stands facing wall after the various motions described. That is up at nightfall and into gown and socks. No. In them already. In them all night. All day. All day and night. Up at nightfall in gown and socks and after a moment to get his bearings gropes to window. Faint light in room. Unutterably faint. Whence unknown. Stands stock still staring out. Into black vast. Nothing there. Nothing stirring. That he can see. Hear. Dwells thus as if unable to move again. Turns in the end and enough will left to move again. Turns in the end and gropes to where he knows the lamp is standing. Thinks he knows. Was last standing. When last went out. Match one is described for globe. Two for chimney. Three for wick. Chimney and globe back on. Turns wick low. Backs away to edge of light and turns to face wall. East. Still as the lamp by his side. Gown and socks white to take faint light. Once white. Hair white to take faint light. Foot of pallet just visible edge of frame. Once white to take faint light. Stands there staring beyond. Nothing. Empty dark. Till first word always the same. Night after night the same. Birth. Then slow fade up of a faint form. Out of the dark. A window. Looking west. Sun long sunk behind the larches. Light dying. Soon none left to die. No. No such thing as no light. Starless moonless heaven. Dies on to dawn and never dies. There in the dark that window. Night slowly falling. Eyes to the small pane glaze at that first night. Turn from it in the end to face the darkened room. There in the end slowly a faint hand. Holding aloft a lighted spill. In the light of spill faintly the hand and milkwhite globe. Then second hand. In light of spill. Takes of globe and disappears. Reappears empty. Takes off chimney. Two hands and chimney in light of spill. Spill to wick. Chimney back on. Hand with spill disappears. Second hand disappears. Chimney alone in gloom. Glimmer of brass bedrail. Fade. Birth the death of him. That nevoid smile. Thirty thousand nights. Stands at edge of lamplight staring beyond. Into dark whole again. Window gone. Hands gone. Light gone. Gone. Again and again. Again and again gone. Till dark slowly parts again. Grey light. Rain pelting. Umbrellas round a grave. Seen from above. Streaming black canopies. Black ditch beneath. Rain bubbling in the black mud. Empty for the moment. That place beneath. Which … he all but said which loved one? Thirty seconds. To add to the two and a half billion odd. Then fade. Dark whole again. Blest dark. No. No such thing as whole. Stands staring beyond half hearing what he’s saying. He? The words falling from his mouth. Making do with his mouth. Lights lamp as described. Backs away to edge of light and turns to face wall. Stares beyond into dark. Waits for first word always the same. It gathers in his mouth. Parts lips and thrusts tongue forward. Birth. Parts the dark. Slowly the window. That first night. The room. The spill. The hands. The lamp. The gleam of brass. Fade. Gone. Again and again. Again and again gone. Mouth agape. A cry. Stifled by nasal. Dark parts. Grey light. Rain pelting. Streaming umbrellas. Ditch. Bubbling black mud. Coffin out of frame. Whose? Fade. Gone. Move on to other matters. Try to move on. To other matters. How far from wall? Head almost touching. As at window. Eyes glued to pane staring out. Nothing stirring. Black vast. Stands there stock still staring out as if unable to move again. Or gone the will to move again. Gone. Faint cry in his ear. Mouth agape. Closed with hiss of breath. Lips joined. Feel soft touch of lip on lip. Lip lipping lip. Then parted by cry as before. Where is he now? Back at window staring out. Eyes glued to pane. As if looking his last. Turns away at last and gropes through faint unaccountable light to unseen lamp. White gown moving through that gloom. Once white. Lights and moves to face wall as described. Head almost touching. Stands there staring beyond waiting for first word. It gathers in his mouth. Birth. Parts lips and thrusts tongue between them. Tip of tongue. Feel soft touch of tongue on lips. Of lips on tongue. Fade up in outer dark of window. Stare beyond through rift in dark to other dark. Further dark. Sun long sunk behind the larches. Nothing stirring. Nothing faintly stirring. Stock still eyes glued to pane. As if looking his last. At that first night. Of thirty thousand odd. Turn away in the end to darkened room. Where soon to be. This night to be. Spill. Hands. Lamp. Gleam of brass. Pale globe alone in gloom. Brass bedrail catching light. Thirty seconds. To swell the two and a half billion odd. Fade. Gone. Cry. Snuffed with breath of nostrils. Again and again. Again and again gone. Till whose grave? Which … he all but said which loved one’s? He? Black ditch in pelting rain. Way out through the grey rift in dark. Seen from on high. Streaming canopies. Bubbling black mud. Coffin on its way. Loved one … he all but said loved one on his way. Her way. Thirty seconds. Fade. Gone. Stands there staring beyond. Into dark whole again. No. No such thing as whole. Head almost touching wall. White hair catching light. White gown. White socks. White foot of pallet edge of frame stage left. Once white. Least … give and head rests on wall. But no. Stock still head haught staring beyond. Nothing stirring. Faintly stirring. Thirty thousand nights of ghosts beyond. Beyond that black beyond. Ghost light. Ghost nights. Ghost rooms. Ghost graves. Ghost … he all but said ghost loved ones. Waiting on the rip word. Stands there staring beyond at that black veil lips quivering to half-heard words. Treating of other matters. Trying to treat of other matters. Till half hears there are no other matters. Never were other matters. Never two matters. Never but the one matter. The dead and gone. The dying and the going. From the word go. The word begone. Where else? Unnoticed by him staring beyond. The globe alone. Not the other. The unaccountable. From nowhere. On all sides nowhere. Unutterably faint. The globe alone. Alone gone. 

Creepypasta #751: Truth Behind Mirrors

Length: Medium

We have been flooded for years with stories of mirror images breaking through the thin pane of glass separating the two worlds to steal our place in this world. Their one track mind only focused on having a real life in a real world. It is in that blind desperation that they make their mistakes, not taking in to consideration the trade will be noticed.

The first mistake is their physical appearance will be altered. That scar on their left knee from falling off their bike when they were five is now on the right. That chipped tooth from a drunken college dare is now on the opposite side. Let’s not forget that after being right handed all their life are now suddenly left handed. 

The whole body exchange is not necessary actually. The body is just a decorative shell we use to carry our soul around. If they can get them to stare into their eyes long enough (depending on how strong minded the real person is of course) they can trade places through those tiny windows.

That leads us to their second mistake. Even with trading souls their personality will have changed. The once happy-go-lucky person now becomes a serious no nonsense kind of person. Their memories are not the same. They are restricted to that small pane of painted glass. They hold no memory of first kisses, childhood games played in the backyard , or shared memories held cherished between family and friends. They have no way of knowing their favorite food, their friend’s names much less who their friends are, hobbies in life , or a million other little things that make that person who they are.

The right way to go about it is to get them while they are young . Get to them before they have a chance to change or damage their appearance. Get to them before they have a chance to form a personality or make memories. Get to them before anyone would notice a change. You know those little mirror toys parents hang over their babies? We love those things.

Credits to: devastatingbliss15

A Port in the Storm. Part 17.

Phew! So, this is just in time (if you take it as GMT, of course!).

Thank you for all the WONDERFUL comments about my extremely fortunate Tuesday adventures, you’re all so bloody lovely. Mwah. I was telling @writtenthroughtime how much I wanted to reply to everyone, but I’ve been uber short on time. I read every single one, though. 

To everyone I met last week, it was a pleasure, I’m so happy to meet any OL fans because you’re epic! And what a way to do it, sigh. 

Anyway, enjoy. We’re jumping forward a little, this snippet is set just after Outtake 2. We’re getting closer to the wedding! Huzzah!

Happy weekend to all. 


Master post, with all other chapters —>


For the first time in weeks Claire had awoken refreshed at the first signs of dawn. The brilliant yellow light fluttered through the windows of hers and Jamie’s rooms, casting a warm glow over the exposed skin of her back. His arms were wrapped tightly around her, cocooning her, their legs jumbled beneath the large quilts.

 Jamie himself was still asleep, his eyelids fluttering as if he were still in a dream. She lifted her head and dazedly opened her eyes to watch him, their noses touching slightly.

 Shifting her hips, she could feel him, hard against her. She gulped and shifted her hand from around his waist to rest between them, just above his hip, their bodies were already close, but her arm now brought them together even more, in fact there wasn’t much room for her to manoeuvre at all. Despite this, she still managed to wrap her hand around him and make one solid move, up and then back down. Holding him so solidly in her palm that he bucked his hips and moaned lightly, his eyes scrunched tightly shut.

 Resting her forehead against his chest now, she shimmied herself into a more comfortable position, giving herself more room to touch him, her strokes becoming lighter, then harder once more. She couldn’t see his face, but guessed by his breathing that he was still somewhat unconscious. A small smile formed on her lips as she considered sliding below the sheets and taking him in her mouth.

 But just at that moment, the door creaked open. Claire had her back to it, so she simply stilled her hand and lay as still as she was able, still gripping Jamie, but waiting for this unknown visitor to either make themselves known, or leave. She felt Jamie twist and wrap his hands in her hair as he woke.

 "Jenny, what do ye want at this hour?“ His voice was thick with sleep, and wavered as Claire shifted her hand, she hoped she could pull off fake sleep, part of her didn’t want Jenny knowing what had been about to happen before she’d interrupted them, her cheeks flamed at the mere thought, at least she was shielded under the sheets and snuggled up to Jamie’s chest, Jenny would surely guess if she could see her face.

 The rumble of his voice was rolling through her bones, her hand was itching to move, a small voice at the back of her mind told her to do it, continue, feign sleep and tease Jamie, after a split second she’d made her choice. She started slowly at first, making soft, cautious strokes along his silky yet hard skin. She listened carefully to him, waiting.

 She hadn’t been paying much attention to their conversation, but the moment he swapped from English to Gaelic, she knew she’d taken him under her spell. He tried to pull her closer, to stop her, but she wasn’t about to be subdued. Jenny’s tone had changed, Jamie’s sudden lapse into Gaelic had obviously caught her off guard.

 Claire smiled, and sped her pace slightly. The door slammed behind her and in a moment she was on her back, her arms pinned above her head, Jamie suddenly nose to nose with her.

 "Yer about to pay for that, ye wee scamp…” He moaned against her lips, before taking his mouth against hers in a bruising kiss, pushing her thighs apart, roughly, with his own, he thrust his hips against her, swallowing her cries with his lips.


 The herbs forgotten, Claire had taken to spending afternoons either in the kitchens or learning how to darn socks and shirts with Ellen. Since the morning the weather has turned, causing the rain to lash against the windows of Lallybroch, the women had opted to make a big broth for the men, they were certain to come back from the fields cold, wet and hungry.  Having chopped all of the required ingredients, Claire was staring off out of the small glass pane, watching the droplets of water cascade over it, enjoying her little bit of peace whilst Ellen had gone off in search of the bigger boiling pot, when Jenny clattered in, throwing a large slab on meat onto the larger of the tables in the room.

 Claire paid her no mind, assuming that she’d simply leave once her task was complete, but she didn’t.

 "I kent what was going on this morning, Claire, between ye and my brother.“ Her tone was accusatory, it was meant to embarrass her, but Claire was no longer going to allow Jenny the pleasure of being upset by her callous attitude.

 "You do, do you? Well, what is between Jamie and I, especially in our rooms, is nothing to do with you.” She managed to keep her voice even, and didn’t even turn to look at her, hoping that her nonchalance would deflate Jenny somewhat.

 "Aye, it is, when I’m stood in front of ye.“

 Claire shrugged her shoulders and turned slightly, looking at Jenny from the corner of her eye. Her skin was a little flushed, but that was more to do with the baby and the heat of the kitchens than it was a blush of embarrassment. Just as she was about to continue their conversation, her stomach flipped and she felt herself lurch for a bucket. Reaching the fire, grabbing for the nearest bowl, Claire lost herself to the sickness, a slight sheen of sweat covered her brow and she gulped in a breath and held her tummy.

 In an instant, Jenny was across the room to join her, holding her hair and rubbing her back lightly. They stayed that way for a few moments as it subsided, the two women together. Once Jenny was sure Claire had emptied the contents of her belly, she took the bowl, passed her a damp cloth from the side and proceeded to clear up the mess.

 Claire sat up, resting one hand on her knee as she mopped the perspiration from her forehead.

 "Thank you, Jenny. For that. Wee bean seems more active in the early afternoon, I thought it might be easing, the sickness,” She pushed herself from the cold slab floor, placed the cloth back on the table top and turned to face Jenny fully, “maybe it isn’t, yet.”

 "Wee bean?“

 "Y-yes, that’s what Jamie calls the baby.”

 Jenny’s eyes were focused fully on her abdomen now, her eyes curiously alight.

 “It suits the bairn, ye dinna want to guess its sex?“

 "No, I mean, well, we didn’t think it mattered.”

 "Aye, I ken that. Ye will love it, nay matter what. Jamie, he’s smitten wi’ both ye and the…wee bean. Dinna do anything to break that.“ Jenny quirked a brow, a small smile fighting to break its way across her lips as she placed the newly cleaned bowl next to the meat and quietly turned to leave.

 "I won’t…I couldn’t…” Claire called after her, causing Jenny to pause for one moment before continuing out of the house. The ice finally broken, Claire went back to stoking the fire in preparation for Ellen’s return.


 The men finally returned from the errands, damp but in high spirits. Murtagh was telling jokes in Gaelic, they were probably incredibly rude, Claire thought, and Brian and Jamie were chucking along with him.

 The women had already sat to supper, Ellen had fetched out some old baby clothes, and was folding them into piles, the ones that were perfect apart from the ones that needed a bit of fixing up. She looked up from her sorting to welcome the men in.

 "There’s some broth in the pot, still warm, help yerselves.“ She pointed towards the concoction in question whilst Brian wrapped her in a close hug. Jamie followed suit, gathering Claire up and siting her back down on his lap, she went gladly, curling against his wet chest as he kissed her softly on the forehead.

 "You don’t want any supper?” She whispered to him, her fingers softly wiping away the droplets of rainwater that had gathered on his collarbone, just where his shirt opened and his stock lay, sopping wet.

 "No’ for the moment, mo Sorcha, I just want to sit here wi’ ye for a wee while.“ His hand came around to curl over her small belly, caressing the tiny bundle that lay beneath the fabric and skin, Claire was enjoying his warmth, and his touch, so much so that she’d completely forgotten that they weren’t alone in the room.

 "Ye pair are a sight! All lost in each other, yer going to ha’ to be careful you dinna start swallowing each other, aye!” Murtagh proudly announced, running his hand through his bushy beard as he grasped with the other for the whiskey.

 "Weel, ha’ ye told her yet lad, about yer leaving her tomorrow night? Ye had better, else there will be hell to pay!“ He walked behind Jamie and patted him strongly on the back before taking a seat next to him, ladling meat into his mouth.

 "Tomorrow night?” Claire was confused, happy to let him go off with the boys, but a little sad that they’d only just been given permission to reside together, and he was being taken from her once more.

 "Aye, Murtagh and da have decided I need to be shown the way t’ be a proper husband to ye, they think it requires an evening just wi’ the men. I promise ye, I willna leave ye for long, mam will keep ye good company, my Claire.“ He nuzzled his nose against her neck as he spoke, his breath brushing against the fine hairs that lay in the hollows beneath her jaw.

 She sighed, contentedly, and lent to kiss him on the cheek. It would certainly be interesting to see what state he made it home in, surely an evening with just the men of the household would involve a lot of whiskey.

 "Talking o’ the upcoming wedding, should we set a date aside? We’ll need some time to prepare things around here afore we end up with a wee bairn running amuck, aye lads?” Ellen interjected, clearing empty bowls and scuffing Murtagh upside the head in a playful gesture. “If yer all about to go causing havoc wi’ alcohol running through yer blood, I want a solid date on the table!”

 "Weel, aye. I ken yer going to need time to fix a dress up.“ Brian took one look at his wife and winked, their wedding had been quick, he knew Ellen wanted to take her time and give Claire the ceremony she deserved.

 "How does two weeks come Saturday sound? Can ye get all we need in time?” He suggested, grabbing his wife as she strolled passed, causing her to giggle and slap his shoulder. “I doubt we can gi’ it much longer wi’ the bairn beginning to show already, but fourteen days, I think we can do, aye?”

 Claire smiled, as Jamie held her impossibly closer. Two weeks it was, and she’d no longer be Claire Beauchamp, but Claire Fraser. She thought of Uncle Lamb then, she’d have to find a way for him to live on if she no longer had his name, but even the thought of being a Fraser, of being tied to Jamie, finally, in matrimony, made her heart skip a beat.

Image Description: Background multiple small panes of worn warehouse type windows. Text Reads: “In contexts like teaching children or working with autistic people, the term “social skills” is used to mean “the skill of complying with dominant norms of social interaction.” But getting away with noncompliance is also a social skill. Improving your lot in the social realm by fighting for your right to be who you are is also a social skill.” - Nick Walker