the way he looks at the doctor it's fine he's totally in love no big deal

lvtvr’s writing tutorials, pt 1: battling my nemesis (or, how to punctuate dialogue)

Sup, fellow kids. I’m Charlie. I write.

I’ve also translated and proofread four full-length novels, so I now suffer from the work-related condition of never being able to turn my editing glasses off. This can make reading fanfic a bitch for me. Because, let’s be real: unbeta’d amateur work easily lets a lot of mistakes slip through.

It is, however, possible to minimize those mistakes.

Is the world going to end if there are errors in your fanfic? Of course not. If you want to focus on the content of your writing more than adhering to rules of language, by all means, do that. There’s time to learn this stuff later.

But you know what? Formatting matters. If you truly want to get better at writing, then eventually you are going to have to deal with this aspect of it. And yes, it’s hard work – but I hope to help you along the way.


This seems to be the #1 formatting problem that amateur writers struggle with. However, there are boatloads of experienced fanfic writers who still seem to struggle with it, or are just so used to making mistakes that they’ve made it “their style.” And at the risk of sounding like a total bitch, it doesn’t matter how amazing or well-loved their work is otherwise: wrong is still wrong. Just because someone is consistent about always writing “your” instead of “you’re” doesn’t make it correct, and dialogue is no different.

If these kinds of persistent mistakes don’t bother you, then good for you. Your life is probably a lot more fun than mine.

But if you want to learn to do it right – if you want the great look and perfect flow that immaculate punctuation will bring your writing – then you have to rise above this.

Time for some rules.


Let’s start with something simple.

“Hey,” he said.

This is a good sentence. This sentence is an upstanding member of our society. You can’t go wrong with this sentence. Got me? Okay.

Now let’s have a look at another one.

“Hello.” She said.

This sentence is a delinquent. In fact, it’s not even a sentence – it’s two sentences. And it is always, always, always wrong. Rule of thumb: never do this. Ever.

This isn’t just some elitist, snooty gatekeeping crap, either. There’s a purely functional reason why it’s incorrect.

By putting a period after your dialogue, you are cutting it off from whatever comes next. Whatever follows dialogue that ends with a period has to be an independent sentence. This distinction is used to regulate the rhythm and flow of the writing.

Now, “said” is a transitive verb, meaning it needs to take an object. While you can sigh, yawn, or laugh independently of anything else, “saying” isn’t possible unless you are saying SOMETHING. (I.e., “She laughed” is a complete sentence on its own; “He said” isn’t.) Same goes for synonyms of “say,” such as whisper, repeat, and exclaim. They almost always get lonely without some dialogue attached to them with a comma.

Let’s look at some examples.

“I’m fine.” He said.
“I’m fine,” he said.

The first example IS NEVER CORRECT. NOT EVER. It should ALWAYS be the latter. ALWAYS.


“I’m fine,” he laughed.
“I’m fine.” He laughed.

These examples are BOTH CORRECT, but convey different nuances. In the first example, he laughs the words. In the second, he says the words first, and laughs afterward. These are separate things, not two different ways to express the same idea. No matter how much fic you’ve read where they’re treated as synonymous, they are not. They are not. They are not.


When a sentence in dialogue ends with a question mark or exclamation point, you always keep that punctuation – you never replace it with a comma. This is where we use the above rule to make sure things don’t get ambiguous.

“What’s up?” they yawned.
“What’s up?” They yawned.

Again, these examples are BOTH CORRECT. In the first, they are yawning the words. In the second, they yawn after speaking. By capitalizing “they,” you are indicating that the question mark is behaving like a period. You are thereby orphaning the sentence that follows the dialogue. In this case, since the sentence can stand alone, that’s perfectly fine.

Next example:

“I’m okay!” the boy repeated.
“I’m okay!” The boy repeated.

Here, the first example is CORRECT. The second is ALWAYS WRONG. Remember, capitalizing “the” means you are drawing a line between the dialogue and the following sentence. “Repeated” needs an object, but now, because the exclamation point is behaving like a period, “The boy repeated” stands alone. That’s an ungrammatical sentence, and without the implied attachment to the preceding dialogue, it drifts alone in the void.

And, well, that’s not good.


Special section to address this other weird shit I’ve seen:

“I’m fine.” He murmured, pouring himself another cup of coffee, “I promise.”

This is a big WTF that has basically just reversed the correct order of things. It should be:

“I’m fine,” he murmured, pouring himself another cup of coffee. “I promise.”

Another example:

“That’s pretty cool.” The doctor laughed, turning to her girlfriend, “You should try it.”

We have two options to fix this, depending on if we want her to laugh the words or not.

“That’s pretty cool,” the doctor laughed, turning to her girlfriend. “You should try it.” (laughing as she speaks)

“That’s pretty cool.” The doctor laughed, turning to her girlfriend. “You should try it.” (laughing after speaking)

Sometimes, especially when you start working with more complex sentences, things can get confusing, and your options can increase. Feel free to shoot me a message if you’re not sure. However, the rules above are the basic ones to keep in mind.

Okay, you made it to the end! If it feels like a lot, that’s because it is. Yes, it’s plenty to remember, because writing is hard. Try to think about these rules when you’re reading published books (not fanfic, you can’t trust fanfic), and eventually you’ll get the hang of it.

Believe in the me that believes in you.

Good luck!

Rescue •P11•

Avengers x Reader

Summary:  reader is getting a tour of her new job at the Avengers tower, but happens to be the only one who notices an oncoming jet, about to crash into the building.

Word Count: 2535

Warnings: nothing?

A/N: I’m so sorry, you guys. It took so long to post this and it still scuks ass. I didn’t do this part justice, I’m sorry. I feel like the interest in this fic has decreased a bit, so it’s a bit discouraging to post when I don’t get much feedback. Anyway, I’m sorry. 💛

The only moment of peace between all the chaos I can recall is a moment where I’m floating. The edge of a galaxy is at the end of my fingertips. I reach out desperately to touch it, to salvage its calm, but I’m yanked back into a never-ending hell. Perhaps it’s a sort of relief to know it’s all like a terrible dream of sorts; once I wake up, back in reality, I can live again. But it’s not a dream, and that’s what’s terrifying. It’s my life. My lives. I was so many things. I`ve had so many faces, it’s impossible to concentrate on one. So I don’t. That makes my trip a lot easier. Once the sound has died down, I know it’s over. I know I’m free.

The last sounds I hear are the faint calls of my mother. Not my real one. She died a long time ago. My adoptive mother. Calling me from the backyard to come eat dinner. Odd, isn’t it?

My eyes open slowly as her voice fades into the back of my mind, dissolving into nothing. It all skims through my head in the flash of a second. I’m not in my body. I can’t feel anything. I’m a ghost listening to noises. The heart monitor beside me begins beeping rapidly. Footsteps. Urgent talking. The heart monitor is going so fast. Too fast. It’s unnerving. It’s almost a relief when I hear it flatline.

It takes eleven days. Eleven days I am trapped in my body, confronting all the thoughts and all the things I’ve done, all the things that have happened to me. Eleven days in my induced coma. It would’ve hurt less to die.

I hear everything; every shift in my room, every nurse or friend coming to see me. Every time Tony comes in and tries to talk to me because he knows I can hear. Every time Penny cries quietly, and I want to reach out to her and tell that I’m fine, I’m here. But I’m not. Not really. I’m somewhere far away, in total darkness. All I can do is listen and recall the horrible, horrible things I want out of my mind. I can’t cry; I can’t scream. I can only endure it until it’s finished. Until I get myself out.

“Okay, so I know you can hear me.” Tony had said. His voice was hoarse and weak, but he still tried to keep a withering strength to it. “I wanna start by saying I’m sorry for doing this. But you would’ve died. And, well, this…if you really do have a past, it’s all coming out. You have to deal with it. All you can do while you’re in there is remember. That’s all there is to do. And the only way you can get out is to be able to remember without freaking out. You can pull yourself out of unconsciousness, but not while you’re, well, breaking down about it. You have to face it. Once you’re calm, you can wake yourself up. That’s how it works. It’s psychological.”

And each day in my living hell, I’d get a brief moment of mercy. Tony would come in and talk to me. Help me. And sometimes, he’d vent to me. When it all got too much.

“You know I’m terrified I killed you?” he said on the third day. He’s no longer trying to keep his voice strong. It’s slurred with the sure effects of alcohol.  “Because you aren’t dead, you aren’t gone. You’re living in it all, the pain. For who knows how long. That’s worse than death. I found a fate worse than death for you.”

Somewhere along the way, my thoughts became my own again as it all replayed, over and over and over. It hurt every time, but it became repetitive, and with each time I endured the past, a little bit of me came back, hardening each time. Bracing for it. Fighting it.

And on the eleventh day, I sat in my backyard while my mom called for me to come inside for dinner, and I decided I knew exactly who I was.

I’m Y/N L/N. I was born sometime in the fifties, the result of a forbidden love of a man and a woman who were on two different sides of a civil war. My very existence brought the war to an end. Or so they thought. HYDRA led The Reform to believe they had ended their battle, but instead they had brought their guard down. And when they attacked, my mother and father were executed and I was left for dead. The Reform took me and saw me as a treasure; the sign of what could’ve been, and the sign of the future their revenge would bring. But they weren’t ready. So they froze me and began rebuilding their empire. Then, twenty-five years ago, when they intended on training and disciplining me, then putting me back under, I was raised at a camp. A camp on a lonely road of short buildings. I wasn’t even given a name. Just a number, a code. I was 108. I was their weapon; I was their child.

But eventually, they became too greedy and began to use my skills prematurely. An eight year old assassin, a ghost, flying from place to place, doing their biddings and calling them accidents. I spoke dozens of languages and knew how to use most any weapon given to me. I was ruthless and merciless and murderous. I took down whole governments with the blink of an eye. And when I was suspected, they aborted. The 108 protocol was instated. I was wiped and given to two agents to be raised under their watch. And from there, Y/N L/N, a shy little girl with half the world’s blood on her hands and no knowledge of it, proceeded with a normal childhood. And when they were ready, they took me. They were keeping tabs, all the time, but they didn’t anticipate Tony Stark’s next move: to come after me. That wasn’t in the plan. And all that remains is the balance of the world: whether they decide to proceed without me or not. Whether their oblivion child will lead them to the end. I see it. All of it. And after eleven days, 264 hours, every waking moment replaying it all in full speed, a trip down multiple memory lanes that I didn’t even know existed, after spending every second for nearly two weeks enduring it, I’m exhausted. And I look at my past, with no energy left to pray for help, and I internally sigh. I’m finished with you, I think. Stop controlling me.

And my eyes are opening. My nose is twitching. Some poor young nurse is running into my room with wide eyes. He presses a button on the pager at his waist and approaches me slowly.

“Ma’am, please stay where you are. You’re going to be physically exhausted for the next little while and you won’t be able to move on your own, so don’t be alarmed.” I blink and look up at him, trying to collect my thoughts. I realize what’s happening. I’m awake. I got out. “You’re safe now.” My eyes prickle with tears as I replay his words in my head like a mantra. You’re safe now. I’m safe. I’m here. No more of my past. I’m done with my past.

I’m drifting in and out of consciousness for the next half hour while doctors are streaming into my bedroom to check my vitals and brain activity. I can’t move even if I want to. The very weight of my eyelids seems too much for me. I’m totally limp.

After the thirty minutes, in one of the few moments that I’m awake, I jolt at the sound of my door flying off its hinges and crashing against the wall opposite it. My eyes widen and I turn back to the door frame to see a big red and yellow suit undoing itself from the middle to reveal Tony Stark. He steps out of the suit and approaches me with a million emotions running over his tired face. When he reaches the edge of my bed, his eyes are darting all over my face for a sign of anything at all. I don’t want him to be sad. I try to think of a way to break the tension.

“Doc says I’m practically paralyzed for at least twenty-four hours.” My voice comes out hoarse and scratchy from being unused for so long. I think Tony realizes this, because he’s pressing his lips together, something he does when he’s trying to hide his emotions. “So I assume you’re gonna be delivering me breakfast-in-bed?” I try out a smile, only managing to move my lips up a little. Tony lets out a breath and reaches for my motionless hand. He squeezes it tight.

“It’s good to have you back, kid.” he says softly. Footsteps are moving to the door. Tony and I both look to see a shirtless Dr. Banner with sweat practically dripping off his face and a blanket covering his shoulders. “What took you so long?” Tony says, turning back around and looking at me with a smirk. Dr. Banner pants like an animal and keels over on his knees.

“We…don’t all…have iron man suits, Tony. And I was a little busy trying not to kill millions of New Yorkers.” he wheezes. I look back at Tony’s suit standing guard by the doorless frame.

“You were on a mission?” I ask. My voice is still so raw. Tony nods, still looking at me. Analyzing me. How many months ago had it been, that I was sitting in a conference room, watching him observe me like I was a rare specimen? How little I had known. “Why’d you come?” I frown. “You shouldn’t have left your mission.” Tony lets out an amused exhale.

“You just got out of a coma and you’re scolding me on leaving a mission?” he shakes his head. “Don’t worry. I’m sure the rest of the Avengers can hold their own just fine, even without me.” he smirks. I tiredly roll my eyes. Once again feeling drowsy.

Bruce approaches my bed and smiles at me, still breathing heavily. I can’t help but be amused.

“You okay?” I ask. He gives me a look.

“Daddy Daycare over here just made me sprint through half of New York to get here.” he glares a Tony, who shrugs innocently. I let out a sleepy laugh. God. I’m awake. I feel giddy with possibilities. I’m living. It feels like a new day.

“You broke my door.” I say accusingly. My eyes are half closed and I’m not looking at anyone in specific, but Tony responds.

“Well, I was preoccupied on trying to make sure you weren’t dead, kid.” he points out. My lips quirk up into a small smile. It feels so good to do that.

“Yeah, yeah. That better be replaced when I’m up.” I murmur. I can faintly hear Tony respond before returning to my slumber.

“Sure thing, kid.” he lets out another breath. One he’s probably been holding for eleven days.

“BOOOO!” Penny throws a handful of popcorn at my TV. Despite the fact that we’ve watched every episode of Sherlock together at least nine times, she still reacts as if it’s the first. We’d started to binge it ever since I woke up, four days ago. It’s been absolutely boring. After waking up, all I wanted to do was live. I wanted to learn languages and go for a walk in the cold October air and go shopping. I can’t do that in a bed. To be completely honest, I’ve probably been a total nuisance. But I can’t help it.

No one has pushed me to talk about what I endured, but I know it’s coming. I know the moment I’ve regained movement in my limbs, I’ll go back into Dr. Simone’s office. I’ve been pushing the thoughts to the back of my head for the past four days, and having Penny sleeping in my bed with me and keeping me company has helped. We’ve had food brought to us and downloaded tons of shows and movies to keep us busy. Tony drops by to check on us twice a day, just as he does now.

“There a problem?” he peeks through the door. I pout with furrowed eyebrows.

“He jumfpef off the frichkin’ bvuildin’.” I mumble with a face full of popcorn. Tony raises an eyebrow, but leaves it be.

“How’s movement?” he asks. I start stretching the muscles on my face and weakly flail my arms and legs. He chuckles. “You doin’ the exercises?” he raises both his eyebrows.

“Yes, dad.” I stick out my tongue. He purses his lips non-aggressively.

“I swear, you’re getting more annoying by the day.” he jokes. I shrug and try to move my back from its place on the headboard, but it won’t budge.

“You would be too if you just got back from the dead and can’t even move.” I mutter. There’s a different air around the room now. It’s awkward. It’s interrupted by footsteps behind Tony.

“There you are. We have to go. Now.” a female voice says from behind him. Tony turns to the person with an annoyed expression.

“You couldn’t have called?” he says quietly. Penny and I turn to look at each other with confused faces.

“I would’ve if you’d answer.” she huffs. I can see shift from the door, and I catch a moment of black clothing and bright red hair. Penny whips her head over to me.

It’s the Black Widow.” she mouths with wide eyes. I scrunch my nose at her. What? She reaches over and pulls my shoulders to her place on the bed. From her spot, I see the woman’s face; Penny is right. It is her. My jaw drops open as I watch her place a hand on her hip and bicker quietly with Tony. She looks so graceful. So deadly. I look back to Penny, pushes me back into my place. I try to catch a bit of the conversation.

“You can’t keep her from the others forever.” she accuses. Penny hears it too, and looks at me with anxiety written all over her face, because she knows what happened the last time Tony kept something from me.

Eventually, Tony sends her back from where she came from and turns to me.

“What are you keeping from the others?” I blurt. Tony chuckles.

“You get right to the point. Don’t worry. I just haven’t alerted the other Avengers about your situation. They rescued you a few months ago, but they still don’t know much about the operation.” I nod along.

“Are you gonna tell them?” Penny chimes in. Tony looks at the popcorn by the TV and nods.


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mediocre-suns  asked:

number 44 for the 100 ways to say i love you with nurseydex, please! clumsy boys + violent sports = who knows?

44. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

Dex knows he should just be grateful that it wasn’t worse, but he has been and always will be selfish when it comes to Nursey.

“How are you feeling?”

Nursey tries to make a face, but with all of the wrappings and gauze, he can’t do much more than stick his tongue out. “Ugh.”

Dex softens, smiling a little. “Ready to go back to the Haus?”

Nursey grins. “Yes, please. Carry me?” He asks, reaching his arms out toward Dex, who instead presses his palms up against Nursey’s outstretched ones.

“You hurt your face, not your legs,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I think a big, strong hockey player like you can handle some walking.”

Nursey huffs. “First I’m so disfigured and hideous that you won't kiss me anymore, and now I’m not even injured enough for you to carry me out of here? Some knight in shining armor you are, Poindexter.”

Dex sighs. “That’s not what you said an hour ago, drama queen. Besides, you know very well what’s gonna happen if I try to kiss you with a broken nose.”

Nursey pouts as best he can. “Maybe, yeah, but you’re worth it.”

“Oh, am I?” Dex laughs, running a hand through Nursey’s hair. “And what do I tell Clara?”

“She would understand,” Nursey grumbles, and Dex would chirp him further if Clara hadn’t bustled in through the door just then to take Nursey’s vitals.

2-0, Samwell vs. Dartmouth, second period. Things are going well; defense is having a particularly ‘swawesome game and Dartmouth seems less competitive than usual, for once. In fact, this is the least aggressive Hall has ever seen them. Murray seems to agree.

It’s suspicious.

But Dex is trying not to let it bother him. After all, he’s here to keep his head down and play some damn good hockey, not push his luck.

49 is fast, like Bitty, but he’s about 100 pounds heavier and nowhere near as agile, so Dex isn’t having much trouble keeping up with him. He gets complacent around minute ten; by minute eleven, he’s feeling somewhat antsy. Finally, in minute twelve, he sees it - an assist, if he can get to Ransom in time. He goes for it.

49 long forgotten, Dex is almost close enough to snatch the puck when he hears the sharp crack of helmet against board, followed by a soft thud and Bitty’s quiet, “Oh, Lord,” behind him.

He turns, and the last thing he expects is to see a pile of red jersey lying on the ice.

No, wait. Scratch that.

The last thing he expects to see is number twenty-eight lying on the ice.

It takes his breath away.

There’s a split second where all he can do is pray that Nursey moves, gets up, does something, anything, and then the pile of red (red to match Dex’s vision) sits up and takes off its helmet and Dex remembers how to breathe again and the world continues to turn, for now.

There’s blood, and Dex wants to go to Nursey, but he doesn’t trust himself to move yet - not until he knows for sure that his knees won’t give out on him. So he waits and watches as Nursey slowly hauls himself up off the ice, his head buzzing and the noise of the crowd behind him deafening. He feels his own skates start to drift, and when Ransom and Holster give him the nod he knows they picked up from Lardo, he follows Nursey all the way back to the locker room. He finally finds him sitting on a bench with a wad of paper towels pressed to his face surrounded by Lardo, Hall, and Murray, who start up a conversation as Dex slips unnoticed into a shower stall to change out of his uniform. No way he’s leaving his boyfriend to suffer like that alone; the team will just have to deal.

“I’m fine, it’s chill, I just need a minute. It’s cool. Doesn’t even hurt… that much.”

“Bro, that doesn’t look fine.”

“It’s broken, Nurse. We have to get you to a doctor. Is there someone you want us to call for you?”

“Wait, uh, can’t Ransom fix it? He’s basically a doctor at this point and he’s my bro, he would totally do it.”

“Nursey, we’re in the middle of a game. Ransom could probably help, I guess, but we can’t be down two defensemen and a captain.”

“Well, we can’t leave him here, and I’m not authorized to let Duan drive him… Sorry, Nurse, looks like we’re gonna have to call an ambulance.”

“No, wait,” Dex pipes up, poking his head out of the stall. The crowd turns, startled, and Nursey shifts the paper towels enough to give Dex a semblance of a grin. “I can - I’ll drive you, uh, to the hospital. We could, um, take Jack’s car, if he says it’s okay, and you could, uh, push Ollie and Wicks up. And then, you know, Lardo can stay and you can finish the, um, the game,” he finishes awkwardly.

Lardo smirks at him (she’s the only one who knows about them right now, and she’s still a little too proud of herself for figuring it out before Dex took her up to the reading room one night during a kegster and told her) and hands Nursey another paper towel while Hall and Murray think it over. "Alright. Good initiative, Poindexter. Take Zimmermann’s car, and you’d better keep Duan updated,“ Hall says as Lardo whips out her phone, presumably to text Jack. 

“Yes, sir.” Not a problem, I’ve been updating her since day one. “Thanks.”

(Dex helps her with her sculptures, and she helps him vent. It’s a fair trade.)

Five minutes later, Hall and Murray are back with the team while Lardo is off on a mission to find Jack and his keys. Dex sighs and flops down next to Nursey, resting his head on his shoulder.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“Hello to you, too.”

“Was it 49?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. I wasn’t watching him.”

“It’s okay, I thought I had him covered. He snuck up on me, that’s all.”

“You shouldn’t have had to cover him, though. I should have known better than to try and be a damn hero,” Dex laments, closing his eyes.

“Hey,” Nursey says, slipping his free arm around Dex’s waist. “It’s hockey, Poindexter. Shit happens. You weren’t being a hero, you were just doing your job.”

Dex stays silent for a minute and hands Nursey another paper towel. “I should have punched him. I had time, nobody would’ve stopped me.”

Nursey sighs. “Yeah, but then who would’ve swept me off my feet to the emergency room?”

“Literally anyone else, Nurse, I’m not Prince Charming.”

“Damn right you’re not. Where’s your horse, Dexy?”

“Right here,” Lardo interrupts, sauntering in through the door with Jack’s keys dangling from her fingers. “Ugh, d-men. Get a room, you two.” She tosses them at Dex and then crosses her arms, still smirking that awful smirk at the pair.

“Thanks, Lards,” Nursey says and attempts to wink at her, which makes Dex laugh. 

“Come on, Nurse, road trip into the sunset,” he says, lacing his fingers through Nursey’s and pulling him up off the bench past Lardo, who rolls her eyes and hands Nursey the rest of the paper towel roll as they pass by. 

“If either of you die, I’ll kill you,” she calls after them, and Nursey’s “Chill, Duan!” is so endearing that Dex just has to press a kiss to his cheek. Derek is gonna be the death of him, honestly - no one’s allowed to be that adorable with a broken nose.

“C'mon, Dexy, please?”

“For the millionth time, no.”

“You’re being unreasonable.”

“No, I’m being logical. You wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

“Rude. I’m telling Bitty to put you on a pie ban and also I’m giving you the cold shoulder starting now, so there.

Dex sighs and falls into the visitor’s chair behind him. The debate had worn on for a full forty-five minutes, and his resolve was beginning to crumble. It was late, he was tired, and all he really wanted was to get home and curl up in bed with Nursey, which wasn’t going to happen at all if he was getting the silent treatment. He would know. 


All he gets is a huff and a turn of Nursey’s head in response. Dex, undeterred, pinches the bridge of his nose and tries again.

“Derek, darling. Light of my life. Please.”

Nursey glares at him, and it’s better than nothing, so he runs with it.

“We still have to get you discharged at the circulation desk downstairs, and then I have to bring the car around because we parked kinda far and I don’t want you to walk any more than you have to, okay? So, if you really want me to, I will carry you from here to the elevator and from the desk to the car. Okay?”

Nursey, against poor Clara’s wishes (is it acceptable to tip your nurse?), hops down off of the metal table and crosses the room to plop himself into Dex’s lap with a grin. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

Dex’s eyes widen. “Actually, no, you haven’t.” Which… is true, although when he thinks about it, is kind of surprising. He’s already said the words once, while Nursey was asleep in his arms, so he know it didn’t count, but he’s thought them dozens of times. They’ve felt natural almost since the day they got together, so there’s really no reason why he’s waited this long. He guesses it’s because they always seem implied, with Nursey - it’s different with him. Everything they do for each other, every note they leave, every movie night in together, every morning waking up next to each other feels like an I love you, so why say it?

Now that Nursey’s said it, though, he gets it.

“Well, I love you,” Nursey repeats, and Dex would carry him to the ends of the earth, if Nursey asked him to.

“I love you, too,” Dex replies softly, and just so we’re clear, it’s Nursey who kisses Dex.

Clara’s just gonna have to deal.

Asylum - Part 2

Word Count: 2396

Pairing: Eventual Dean x Reader

Warnings: bloody ghosts, language 

Tagging: @letsgetoutalive @aprofoundbondwithdean @pb-5minutefanfiction @spnfanficpond @desiringspnimagines @blacktithe7

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You went off on your own, making an appointment with Dr. James Ellicott, a local psychiatrist. You were seated on a couch in the empty waiting room, absentmindedly flipping through a magazine when the office door opened. “Y/N Y/L/N?” The doctor asked.

“That’d be me.” You replied, putting the magazine back where you found it and standing to walk toward the office.

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anonymous asked:

Doctor!sterek please??

Here you go!   -Emmy

Originally posted by head-vs-feelings

Accidents by countrygirlsfun

(1,780 I Teen I Complete)

Derek is standing at the nurses station down in the ER. It’s his turn to be on call in the clinic and he’s been grateful for such a quiet night so far. Quiet in the sense that they haven’t had many patients, but that’s the only way it’s been quiet because Suzanne has been harping on him from behind the desk for the last ten minutes without letting him leave.

Well, it’s more he shouldn’t leave, he needs to stay ready in case something happens and he’s needed. Oh boy, does he wish someone would come through those doors and need a doctor.

From Beginning to End by Nival_Vixen 

(2,736 I Mature I Complete)

Derek has good and bad days. His good days begin with Stiles, and involve seeing the kids at work smiling and happy, playing and laughing with each other, and usually end with Stiles. His bad days can sometimes begin and end the same way, but the in between part is what utterly destroys him. He loves the kids in the paediatrician ward, wishes he could make every single one of them better, but he knows that logically, it’s not possible. Sometimes bad things happen to good kids, and try as he might, Derek just can’t change that. He’s a doctor, not a wizard.

Houston, We Have a Problem by ImpassionedWriter 

(3,828 I Explicit I Complete)

Stiles has trouble getting off. Derek… fixes it. [Doctor/Patient AU and Softcore Porn]
(Did you really expect anything else from me?)

Let Me In by IdontlikeIobsess

(4,112 I Teen I Complete)  *single parent!Stiles, doctor!Derek

Derek is tired of being woken up at 4 AM every single night by the baby living next door. He could help, if only his neighbor would let him talk.

Thorough Examination by Viet_joker 

(5,086 I Explicit I Complete)

Stiles accidentally injured his muscles in his back thigh. He said it was fine, but Scott and his father urged him to at least get it checked out at the clinic.

Well, he did get it checked out, but it was more than just his thigh.

Little Talks by Vendelin 

(5,387 I Mature I Complete)

“Your favourite is here,” Danny says, smirking. “I tried to steal him away by giving him some extra attention, but he just looked uncomfortable.”

 Stiles snorts, though he’s secretly pleased by his regular rejecting Danny. “He always looks a bit uncomfortable. I bet he’s married with a kid and a permanent guilty conscience when he’s here.”

 It had been quite the surprise for Stiles to realise that he had a regular. A pretty young, hot regular, on top of that.

In which Stiles is a stripper, and Derek is the always-polite regular at the club where he works.

The New Intern by Ladynight 

(5,434 I Explicit I Complete)

Derek’s a great doctor who gets assigned with an annoying intern. A chatty, annoying intern that has  big long fingers and a gorgeous, amazing pink mouth.
Derek. Is. So. Screwed.
“Ok, Stiles will be your intern Derek.” Isaac walked the same path he came by, looking over his shoulder with a sarcastic smile “I’m going to let you two work now.” And he was gone. He knew how much Derek hated working with other people, which was weird as shit because he was, in fact, a doctor.

Isaac jerks off on his misery. Son of a bitch.

“How old are you?”

Stiles actually took a few seconds before realizing that the question was directed at him, since Derek asked while looking at some piece of paper. “Oh, I’m twenty-six.” Derek couldn’t mask the surprising expression that took over his face, because shit, the guy looked like a teenager. “Surprised Doctor Hale?”

Fight Me! by JR Granger (JR_Granger) 

(5,690 I Explicit I Complete)

Stiles has a… zoning out problem and his mom makes him get tests done - even though he’s totally //fine// - and in the process meets a very cute nurse. Or is he a doctor? Stiles has no idea; he just knows that Derek is really nice. And did he mention attractive?

No Words Left Unsaid by countrygirlsfun 

(7,776 I General I Complete)

Derek makes the appointment himself. That in and of itself is a big deal for him.

It’s been ten years since he got his family killed. Six years since he let Laura, his sister, get killed, leaving only himself as the sole survivor of the Hale family.

And it’s been five years, eleven months since Derek has spoken.

Mend My Heart by lucianowriter 

(12,352 I General I Complete)

Stiles is a single father to a toddler. Life is complicated and messy as it is. When his father has a heart attack, Stiles watches as Derek Hale enters his life and complicates it even more. However, this grumpy doctor may just surprise Stiles in the end.

Might as Well Give In by Hepzheba

(14,600 I Explicit I Complete)

Derek thinks that moving across the country and start at a new job would be the most drastic changes he could make. Then he meets Stiles, and even though he suspects Stiles is a patient that has escaped the psych ward on the tenth floor he can’t help but be intrigued by the teen.

Just a Good Time by Dexterous_Sinistrous 

(36,042 I Explicit I WIP)

Stiles was used to getting called at, most of them men offering him money for sex. He had even accepted a few times, pinched for cash while having a stone-hearted landlord meant that he didn’t have a lot of options.

Deep down, he knew he could always go home—that despite the fight, his dad would always let him come home, even with James. That was why he hated himself more every time he accepted the cash.

(Or, the one where single parent Stiles strips and prostitutes himself out to feed his kid.)

Dive In By alexxxford

(40,358 I Mature I WIP)

Hollywood has never been kind to its young stars and Stiles Stilinski was no exception. After a long downward spiral of self neglect and alcohol Stiles finally snaps. The result: court ordered rehab.

Derek Hale is a junior doctor who’s had a tough ride. Perhaps specialising in alcoholism wasn’t his smartest decision. He’s learnt not to become attached to his patients and with one more case to get through he can finally finish those 7 torturous years of training.

Stiles and Derek butt heads immediately, with personalities that couldn’t be more different it’s certain to be a painful 3 months for all involved.

Hold Me Tight (Within Your Clutch) by est_in_manus 

(85,636 I Teen I Complete)

 In the last year, Derek found his life had taken a complete turn for the better. There were ups and downs, sure, but most of all he found a family. Of course Derek has always had a family, he was even lucky enough to be born into a big one. His parents, his sisters, and even his uncle Peter had special places in his heart.

 But this family? This was Derek’s, and he found it all on his own.


 In the last year, his entire life changed for the better. He wasn’t alone anymore, his nieces had a strong male figure to look up to in the areas that Stiles may lack, and Stiles had a strong male figure in his-

 Never mind, that was dangerous thought territory to go down when he was already running late.


As Derek handles his transition from being a Nurse to a full on Pediatrician, Stiles handles his own personal situations at the high school. Their families are so happy they found each other. Though others are out to try to ruin them.

Hopefully Scott remembered the rings to his own wedding…

An Artist’s Personal Statement by howl-to-the-wind (greenleaf) 

(87,818 I Explicit I Complete)

Being the middle child of five siblings, Stiles was used to taking the backseat. He was twenty-one years old, mouthy, pale skinned, and twitchy, and was probably the most overlooked in such a talented and good-looking family. Not only that but more often than not, he was bullied, teased, exposed (in a literal sense) and also ended up getting banged up and bruised. Thank goodness, there’s Dr. Hale to patch him up after all is said and done.

Just a monster of a fic with doctor!Derek and artist!Stiles, complete with a couple more Stilinskis and a gang of well-meaning friends running around trying to hook them up and keep them together.

for Joanna who still loves me despite the fact that I enjoy writing meta that makes her cry *laughs nervously* I hope you like this even if it’s not exactly what you asked for because apparently I’m kinda bad at following directions, ops ily~

follow me through the dark | ao3 

He was beyond exhausted. His neck and shoulders ached from the constant tilting of his head to look at the evidence laid down on one of their work tables and his ribs were still tender from the chase he had given an hour ago. Serial killers were slippery bastards but after four weeks of non-stop brain-storming and letting him slip between their fingers, Bellamy and his team had cracked his profile and correctly predicted his next victim. They had rescued the girl in time (unlike the previous attempts to stop the serial killer) and Bellamy himself caught the murderer when he tried to shoot Raven and make a run for it.

His keys clacked in his hand as he pushed his front door open. Home sweet home.

Bellamy’s uniform was dirty and his shoes left wet prints on his wooden floor but he couldn’t care less. He had barely slept for the past forty-eight hours and he had been running himself haggard for the past one month. God, if it hadn’t been for Clarke’s sticky notes in his apartment and occasional messages to his phone to eat and rest, he would probably have tried to survive on copious amounts of caffeine and sugar.

Seeing the yellow sticky note from three days ago still handing on the mirror in his hallway – There’s food in the fridge (it can work for breakfast too!). Call me when you get home ♥ – Bellamy fished his phone from his pocket and fired her a quick message of his success and plans on hitting the shower and then the bed.

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