submission challenge!

Teacher

Author’s Note: Hey guys! @lucifer-in-leather sent this gif in to me a while ago (sorry this took so long!) and I decided to combine it with a challenge…it seemed to fit well! This is for @beckawinchester ‘s Birthday Challenge! Prompt will be bolded in the fic. I hope you enjoy it and as always feedback is welcome and appreciated! I love all of you. If you would like to join my tag list, send me an ask. I don’t bite. ;)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3,000-ish

Warnings: Fluff, SMUT, Language

Prompts: #5 “How the hell am I supposed to fit in that?” and #1 Bar (Place)

Song: “Teacher” by Nick Jonas (I highly suggest you listen to this song. I love it!)

Originally posted by frozen-delight

“Fort Wayne, Indiana,” Sam confidently slid his laptop toward you as you sipped on your whiskey while Dean sighed and laid his head back in frustration. “String of female deaths at a bar. Apparently they do an amateur night for girls to dance up on the bar. The girls make some tips while they compete. The top two girls who collect the most cash move on to the finals, ya-da ya-da…”

You rolled your eyes and set your drink down, “Classy.”

“But get this,” Sam started and Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly, “The past three females that have died were one of the finalists. All found in the same dressing room. No forced entry, no sign of struggle. And the cameras show no one going in or out of the room but the girls.”

“Coyote Ugly gone bad,” You muttered and Dean snickered, enjoying your reference. “I will assist on this hunt under one condition…I am not dancing on a bar under any circumstances. You understand me?”

“Crystal clear,” Sam smiled and you stood up, then made your way to your room in the bunker to start packing. “Let’s leave within the hour.”

Keep reading

Imagine that you’re new to the Avenger team and whilst training you beat all the other agents that challenge you, catching Thor’s attention. He laughs at the challenge and says he’ll go easy on you, which he very much regrets as you whoop his ass, Loki watching along with a crowd, giving the same cringing ‘oh’ as the rest as Thor goes to the ground a final time

Writing Challenge

So this is the first Hamilton fic I’ve ever written so I apologize in advance for how bad it is. 

Language Barrier

Pairing: Lin Manuel Miranda x Reader

Summery: Lin hits on reader and she pretends not to know English

Warning: None

A/N: So this is the first Hamilton fic I’ve ever written, so I apologize for how terrible this is. Also I don’t know French, so all of this is from Google translate. English translations are in parenthesis. 

You couldn’t ever remember being this stressed. You were sitting at your favorite coffee shop, drinking you third coffee of the day, and attempting to finish your essay that was due that night. When a man just strolled up to your table, tripped over his feet a little and said, “Do you have a Band-Aid? Because I scraped my knee falling for you.”

You didn’t even know what to say or do. You didn’t have time for this. I mean yes he was cute, but you had too much on your plate right now to even think about dealing with him. So you just did the first thing that popped into your head.

“Excusez-moi? Je regrette de ne pas parler anglais.” (Excuse me? I’m sorry I don’t speak English) French wasn’t your first language but you were still pretty decent at it. It was also an easy way to not deal with people when you didn’t want talk. By the look on his face it worked.

“Oh…I-I’m sorry…I don’t understand,” he stuttered out, looking even more flustered, and a slight blush appearing on his cheek. You had to admit he was attractive. He had a little scruff on his face, like he had forgotten to shave for the last couple of days. He had medium length hair that was slightly falling out of his ponytail, due to him messing with it nervously. His eyes were warm and had laugh lines around them. He really did seem sweet, but you shook yourself out of his trance.

“Je suis désolé. Je suis vraiment occupé en ce moment,” you replied to him, a wary smile on your face. You didn’t want to be mean, you just wanted to finish this paper. He smiled back at you. You wished you could just keep looking at his smile. Before you could think anything else to say, he stood up, still smiling at you.

“It was nice talking to you. Perhaps I’ll see you next time I’m here,” and with that he left, leaving you sitting there entirely confused. Why was this guy so confident, he couldn’t understand one word you had said, but somehow he wanted to see you again. You sat there for a minute thinking about him, until you remembered your looming deadline and continued working.

 

________________________

 

It was a couple weeks later when you found yourself back at the coffee shop. You actually had a moment to relax. And that’s all you wanted to do. You had your tea, a good book, and was in the middle of enjoying them when you heard the other chair at your table slide out. You glanced up from your book, and almost dropped your tea when you recognized the man. It was the man from last time, more neatly dressed, hair firmly in a ponytail, but the same warm eyes.

“Bonjour mon nom dans Lin. Qu’est-ce qui est à toi,” (Hello. My name in Lin. What’s yours?) he said easily, sliding into the chair in front of you. There was a smirk on his face that you absolutely loved. His French was shaky but understandable enough that you questioned whether he actually did understand you last time.

“Alors vous parlez français. Tu aurais dű le dire la derničre fois. Désolé, j’ai été si grossier. Mon nom est Y/N,” (So you do speak French. You should have said so last time.Sorry I was so rude. My name is Y/N)  you replied easily, setting your book on the table. As you looked back up at him and noticed that his smile had disappeared. He looked nervous again. He kept looking just past you, then back at you. He started running his fingers through his hair again, forcing some brown locks to fall around his face. He obviously didn’t know what you had said. 

“I don’t know what to say…Y/N was it? I-i don’t really speak French. I just learned some phrases…so that I could talk to you. You’re just so beautiful and I only wanted to ask you to dinner.” His words spilled from his lips. You couldn’t help but blush. This guy, Lin, thought you were beautiful? He learned French for you? You smiled at him, ready to tell him the truth. Before you could say anything another man appeared beside you. He was tall, with a neatly trimmed beard. His curly hair was pulled back, and you noticed the laugh lines that matched up with the slight smirk we wore. “Lafayette, please tell her.” Lin practically begged the man.

“Je suis désolé madame. Mon ami ici est juste très nerveux de vous parler.” (I’m so sorry ma’am. My friend here is just very nervous to talk to you) Lafayette said smoothly to you, motioning towards Lin as he spoke. You were a little shocked to hear such perfect French come from his mouth. You glanced over at Lin, whose face was scrunched up in an attempt to try and understand what his friend had said.

“Pourquoi serait-il nerveux de me parler?” (Why would he be nervous to talk to me?) you asked, looked down at your hands. Lin seemed like a such a sweet guy, and tried so hard just to speak with you. But you were nothing special, why would he go through all this trouble to ask you out?

Lafayette’s smirk turned into a soft smile, like he knew what you were thinking. “Il vient seulement dans cette boutique pour te voir. Il a parlé de vous pendant des semaines avant qu'il ne vienne vous parler. Il veut que je lui enseigne le français juste pour qu'il puisse être avec toi. Pour lui, vous êtes parfaite.” (He only comes to this shop to see you. He talked about you for weeks before he actually came to talk to you. He wants me to teach him French just so he can be with you. To him you are perfect.) You felt the heat of a blush creep up your neck. You looked back Lin, eyes wide in surprise. You were speechless. This adorable man wanted you. Thought you were perfect, and was willing to learn a whole new language for you. You had never had someone try so hard for you, and you hadn’t even gone one one date yet.

“Laf, what did she say? Will she go out with me? Will she even consider me? Laf you have to tell her how beautiful I think she is. That she’s all I can think about, and how I’d do anything just for one date with her,” Lin practically blurted out, pleading with Lafayette. You could tell he was beyond nervous. Most of his hair was falling out of his ponytail at this point. He was on the edge of his seat, and his eyes were begging you to understand what he was trying to say.

Before Lafayette could say anything you did. “Lin. He doesn’t have to tell me. You just did.” Both men went perfectly still. All of a sudden you were nervous. What if Lin was angry that you lied to him. That he put so much work into something that didn’t deserve it.”Lin..”

“Wait…so you spoke English this whole time?” Lin asked, cutting you off. You nodded slowly, looking for any sign of anger. The two men looked at each other, and then burst into a fit of laughter. “That’s so perfect. I can’t wait to tell Jon about this. He’s gonna absolutely love you.” Lin was smiling at you, his eyes becoming warmer as his smile grew. You couldn’t help but smile back him.

“Ok while you two are staring lovingly into each other, I’m going to go back inside and try not to throw up my breakfast.” Lafayette said as he walked away. Lin tried to smack him, while you felt another blush creep onto your face.

Love is... a concerto in A Major - K622

By: @thegirlfromoverthepond

My deepest thanks to @titaniasfics for her help in betaing this story :) thank you so much, lady :)

the awesome art is done by the so gifted @akai-echo.

She comes every Friday afternoon, taking the girl with curly hair to her flute lesson.

Every Friday I watch as she passes before the windows of my class, talking to her daughter, laughing.

One day in September, I heard her laughter through the now-open windows, and I swear, i’ve never heard music so pure.

I know it’s pitiful. I know that i shouldn’t be completely infatuated with the mother of one of the kids we teach to, but I can’t help it.

Her husband is the luckiest man alive.

Keep reading

Try by @kateyes224

A/N:  This is slightly NSFW, and is officially my first foray into smut.  Irony being, it’s dialogue only, so does it really count as smut?  You be the judge.  

“No, Mulder.  Absolutely not.”

“Scullyyyyyyy.  Come on!  Pleeease?”

“I said no.  And stop whining.”

“You won’t even try it, just this once?  For me?”

“No.  You might not believe this, Mulder, but I did try once before.  Last time we tried it…you kind of…hurt me.”

“I hurt you?”

“Yeah.”

“When was this?  Why don’t I remember it?”

“I’d be more surprised if you did remember it.  We’d barely even been together at that point.”

“Okay.  So except for this alleged attempt where I supposedly hurt you-”

“You most definitely hurt me.  Which is why it’s only happened the once.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you, Scully.  Really.  It was unintentional.  But that was ages ago.  You haven’t tried it since, have you?”

“No, and I don’t really care to.  Especially not now that I know that you let Diana do it.”

“Scully, come on, do not bring Diana into this conversation right now.  It was totally different with her.”

“Yeah, so I’ve noticed.”

“Scullyyyyyyyy, come onnnnn.  Don’t make me beg.”

“No.”

“You let me do it to you sometimes.  How is that any different?”

“Mulder, it’s different because I don’t actually mind when you do it to me.  I kinda like it.”

“Really?  You like when I do it?”

“Yeah, Mulder, I do.  You always seem to know exactly when I want it without me ever having to tell you.  I mean…usually whenever you do it to me it’s preceded by some dire circumstance, so I know it’s borne of an unconscious desire to reconnect with me.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true.  Stop that, I can’t concentrate when your hand is doing that.”

“When my hand is doing this?”

“Mmm, God.  Yes, that.  Besides, the way we do it now is kind of…our thing, you know?  Please, Mulder, you gotta stop…”

“You sure you want me to stop?  You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“No, don’t stop.  Jesus Christ, Mulder, that feels amazing.”  

“You sure you don’t want to try it?  For me?”

“Uhhhnn, Mulder, you’re not playing fair.  Please, not, uh, oh God, not with the puppy dog eyes…Okay, fine, if I try it this one time will you stop harassing me?”

“I’ll never stop harassing you, Scully, it’s what I do best.  And you never know, you may love it so much you’re willing to do it for me more often.”

“I seriously doubt it.  Oh, yes, right there, keep going.”

“I’m thinking you will.  And maybe we can just save it for special occasions.  You know, birthdays, holidays, those times when I make you come so hard you can’t walk right for a week…”

“God, your hubris would be obnoxious if I weren’t so close right now.”

“Sounds like a perfect time to try it then.”

“Uhhhh, okay, okay, okay…yes, I promise I’ll try it, I’ll do anything you want, just keep doing that.  Oh God, yes.”

“That’s not my name, Scully.”

“Okay, fuck…yes…oh my God, Fox, yessssssssss.”

“See?  Was that so hard, Dana?”

“Shut up, Mulder.  Wipe that stupid smile off your face.”

“Welllllll…Did you like it?”

“Did you?”

“Absolutely.  I could listen to you say my name all day.”

“What a difference seven years and biblical knowledge of each other’s bodies makes.”

“Do it again.”

“Fox.”

“One more time.”

Der Fuchs.”

“Oooo, I’m getting turned on now.  Is that my name or is that what you wanna do to me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes to which ques-…Oh…oh, Scully.  I mean, Dana.  I like where your head’s at.  Literally and figuratively.”

“Vmmppssmmpff.”

“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, Dana.  Ow, Scully!  No biting!”

“Vulpem pilum mutat, non mores.”

“Now you’re just showing off.  Ohhhh my God, you feel amazing.”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Le renard…Ugh, Jesus, fuck that’s good…le renard couchant ne capture…Oh, God Scully…pas de volaille.”

“Who’s showing off now?”

“Not showing off, just trying to make it…Yes, baby, oh GOD, that feels so good…make it last…  Aggghhhhhhh ffffuuuuccckkkkk…Scully, I’m so…You gotta st-…I’m gonna…”

“Mmmmm.”

“Jeeeeeeesus Christ, Scully…oh fuck…AGHHHH!”  

“Hmmmmm…you’re welcome.”

“Scully, that was…I mean, that was…”

“You’re adorable when you’re incoherent.”

“Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“Just last night, actually.  You are remarkably effusive after sex.  Especially after I do that thing with my tongue.”

“I really mean it, Dana.  I love you.”

“I know, Mulder.  I love you, too.”

“No, now, Scully, try again.  And don’t roll your eyes at me.  I just love the way you say it.”  

“Fine.  Fox…I love you, too.”

“Atta girl.  Now get over here and let me see if I can make you say my name again.”

xxxxx

A/N II:  Scully says “Fox” in German (der Fuchs), then in Latin, “The fox changes his fur but not his ways.”  Mulder responds in French, “The sleeping fox catches no poultry,” a quote from Benjamin Franklin.

I’m drunk and you are requesting fic prompts. My friends have been beautiful and inspired me. So here: “I can’t have you being sexy when I’m trying to concentrate.” “I’m your wife! I *know* you.” “Cruel! You’re not the man I married!” (That last was said while climbing up a steep hill.)





Everyone knows that being an exceptional mother involves making the best choices for yourself as well as your family on a daily basis. The adult experience on the opposing end of the spectrum? Participating in a hen night.  You’re expected to depart from the norm to be completely hedonistic for the evening as you drink and carouse to show support for your fellow woman. These two contrasting expectations just didn’t make any rational sense to Dr. Claire Beauchamp but when Marsali asked her to attend, she felt she couldn’t decline. Her future daughter-in-law was far too sweet to disappoint by not spending a short amount of time at the event.

Seven hours and multiple adult beverages later, a more than slightly drunk Claire called her husband to pick her up. She had struggled just trying to find her mobile in the dimly lit pub and had dropped it several times when she was talking to Jamie. He let out a snort when she failed to remember her own location.

“I can’t have you being sexy when I’m trying to concentrate!” she slurred. “Wait! I remember now. We’re at The Last Drop, on Grassmarket.”

“I’ll be there shortly, mo nighean donn.” he soothed. “I’m glad you had fun at Marsali’s wee party.”

“You think I’m pissed out of my mind, don’t you?” she demanded. “I’m your wife! I know you.”

He summoned all his strength to not laugh out loud again. It wasn’t easy, but he used the din of last call to pretend he couldn’t hear her.

“I love you, too! I’ll see you soon.”

He arrived to find her waiting out front chatting to Marsali and Fergus. His son had arrived in town the night before and hadn’t made the trip to his parents’ house yet.

“I see you’re taking good care of your Mum!” Jamie called. “That’s a good lad. Marsali! It’s good to see you as well.”

He hugged the pair closely, “Thank you for giving me a ring, Marsali. You’re absolute gold.” he whispered.

Claire tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.

“Can we stop and get something on the way home? I’m starving!” she said with a yawn.

He took her hand gently and kissed it. “You have a date with our bed, love. I happen to know we have some delicious Shepherd’s pie at home.”

“Cruel!” she sighed. “You’re not the man I married.”

Jamie finds Claire and Murtagh as they travel with their “song and dance act”.







The sun had long since set and Claire was hungry as well as miserably cold. Her companion wasn’t especially thrilled with their situation either, from the earful he was giving her. Their searching had not unearthed any new information on the escaped Highlander’s location.

Murtagh had lost count of how many crofts, hamlets, and villages he and Claire had travelled to in the fortnight they had been searching for Jamie. He was sure, however that his physical and emotional torment from the performances he gave would guarantee him a better place in the afterlife, despite the murdered Redcoat issue. His scowling accomplice begged to differ when the subject was brought up.

“This whole debacle of performing was your idea!” she hissed. “I’ve been threatened by minstrels who also stole my entire act and our only source of income. Whine your sword dancing only got rotten vegetables lobbed at you!”

“Those ignorant clotheids obviously don’t have a patriotic bone in their useless bodies!” he retorted.

Claire scowled as she pursed her lips, “There’s already a St. Murtagh so you can quit before you try to recall your three miracles!” she muttered.

She turned away from him as she fought back the tears threatening to fall. Everything was distressing enough having to deal with the Schrodinger’s cat issue regarding her husband but things were incredibly close to being unbearable.

Before Murtagh could justify his actions a strong hand covered his mouth and dragged him off into the nearby bushes. He struggled to find the handle of his dirk but halted his movements when recognised the sound of its weighted metal hitting the ground.

Much, a ghoistidh, much!”* a familiar voice whispered.

The older man turned to see his godson’s face, camouflaged with dirt and soot to blend into the night’s darkness.

“I’ll have you know I will be keelhauling you the first chance I get for that scare, boy!” Murtaugh growled lowly. “And as much as I’m overjoyed you’re found I plan on being furious for the next few minutes.”

“Sounds fair.” Jamie acknowledged. “I appreciate the forewarning. Now, we need to get Claire and return to Lallybroch to make sure our home is protected now that I’m enemy to the crown.”

Jamie suddenly found himself tackled to the ground with his dirtied features being mercilessly kissed by his wife. Despite her warm welcome, he knew he was assured a tongue lashing on the subject of foolhardy choices once they were alone.

“You bloody Scot! Don’t you ever do that to me again!” she demanded.

He tilted his head to the side with an amused look on his face. While he wasn’t precisely sure this exact situation would ever rear its ugly head again, historically speaking he knew it had potential.

“I love you as well, mo chridhe.”


[”Shhh, Godfather, shhh!”]