which way is the front line from here


Momma Hale x Derek

“Momma my kits not clean!” Isaac yelled as you tried to sift through the huge pile of paper work that you needed to send to Mr Whittemore that afternoon.

“Momma I have to have a packed lunch for my trip not money!” Erica yelled as she ran past while Liam growled and snapped at the twins.

“Derek!” You sighed franticly but your Alpha was too busy with Boyd.

“Make him stop!” one of the twins hissed while the other shoved Liam who stumbled back into the tv.

“Oh great, idiot!” Erica yelled at him while Isaac started fighting with the twins.

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Fandom: Moana
Words: 2,400
Category: Gen
Relationship: Moana & Maui

Summary: As the mortal who restored Te Fiti, Moana’s fairly accustomed to receiving gifts - anywhere from bowing and scraping to feasts thrown in her honor. She’s even come face-to-face with gods intent on displaying their gratitude. But this offer? This one’s new.

Shoutout to @paperjam-bipper and @procrastinatingbookworm for inspiring this idea! Look, I have to write fluff sometime, and this idea was just too good to pass up.

So, with no further ado, Godmarked.


“Anything in this realm,” says the godly figure in front of her, kneeling atop the waves. He’s got little whalefins flapping along his ankles that help a lot for holding off the revelation that Moana is talking to a major god. “I’m afraid I cannot offer you anything from the other realms. Pulotu, for example, is outside my domain.” He eyes Moana with a hint of amusement curling up his cheeks. “Though knowing what I do of you, mortal Chief, I daresay that a beast of Pulotu would interest you little.”

“Yeah,” Moana agrees, nodding her head. “No scaly beasts for me. So just to clarify, this includes, like…magic powers and all that.”

“That is within my ability, yes.”

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Just Friends

Originally posted by taedamn

Genre: Fluff/Angst/Suggested Smut ;)

Word Count: 1,434

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

“He was too close to you Y/n!”

”You aren’t even my boyfriend Tae why do you care if he was too close!”

Masterlist ♥︎


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2 A.M

A/N: So this is the second installment of my apparently new A.M series that I didn’t even knew I needed on my blog. You can read Luke’s version here

Pairing: Y/N/College!Michael

Rating: PG-All

Request: No

Words: 6.000+

Summary: Y/N’s and Michael’s hate for each other won’t get any better when they’re paired up for a science project. And when a thunderstorm appears and Y/N isn’t safe to walk home she has to stay at Michael’s dorm against her will

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anonymous asked:

Junkrat, McCree, 76 and Reaper consciously (or unconsciously) trying to impress their crush during combat and thinking that no one else has caught on (but literally everyone can tell).

Junkrat: probably yells out “Hey! (Name)! Watch this!” and explodes many, many things unnecessarily in front of them, until someone pulls him aside to have a talk about he’s 1. wasting supplies 2.  putting everyone in danger for no reason and 3. not impressing anyone (It’ll probably be McCree, cuz the cowboy understands.) In the end, he’ll probably drag them to see some crazy display he set up that’ll like, explode a trail of gasoline into a flaming “DATE ME” sign under the guise of pulling them away from a mine he’s planted.

McCree: isn’t as reckless as he is easily distracted, and will go out of hi way to get flashy kills in front of them. It bothers everyone how he’ll say some snappy old Western movie line after every shot, which he says is part of his ‘American charm.’ When he really gets out of hand, he’ll recede into his usual flirting style (which is summed up in the ‘Hey….you come here often?’ cliche.)

Soldier76: He’s probably the most subtle with it out of all of them, though that’s no saying much. He’ll end up frustrated every time they don’t notice when he makes a good shot or something, but will just take that anger out on the mission. That’s what everyone will notice- that he’s more aggressive than usual. When someone pulls him over and asks him to calm down, then he’ll admit what he’s doing and beat himself up over it a little bit over being such an idiot. At heart, he’s a nervous little teenager whose just more used to being chased than being the chaser. 

Reaper: Oh man. He tries so hard to impress everyone, all the time. It’s hard to tell who he’s aiming to impress at any given moment, but if his crush or s/o is on the battlefield, he changes the game. Instead of trying to impress them with extra flashy maneuvers or making it seem like flashy maneuvers are just his norm, he’ll try to downplay all his kills so that each one isn’t a big deal, but he rakes in a lot of bodies. Everyone will notice that he’s trying harder than usual but without bragging or making some awful Grim Reaper jokes about it, the silence will be disturbing. It’s honestly just as try-hard if not more try-hard than his usual edgy ways, but all he wants to do is seem like the effortless cool guy murderer in front of his crush in the hopes that they find it endearing.

Title: Developments
Fandom: Marvel
Word Count: 1,880
Characters: Warren Worthington III x Reader
Reader Gender: Female
Warnings: Swearing, arguing
Notes: Request from anon for “Hey!! Could you write a thing with Warren?? Cause hell yes that boy. OKAY… BUT FAKE DATING AU PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE, like you’re amazing and i will carry this trope with me until i die and end fluffy ily rax” // ily2, nonnie ♥ This is my first time writing a fake dating fic, so hopefully it doesn’t suck.

Originally posted by spernoodles

It was widely known that you were a friendly person. Still, no one expected you to befriend the brooding, winged blond when he arrived at Xavier’s. Warren Worthington III was an enigma: at least mildly rude to everyone, hated sharing things about himself, disliked people in general – except for when it came to you. He was always nice to you, he told you everything about himself, and he was always willing to hang out with you. It was unsurprising that people began to assume you were dating, but you both were always adamant that you two were just friends. Well, until your ex-boyfriend arrived at the school.

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so like your guess is as good as mine when it comes to what this is. Again it’s kinda different, kinda ceo!Luke and I kinda don’t hate it.

You worked hard to keep your cool, eyes scanning the passing scenery, trying to let the occasional flash of bright light that cut through the darkness soothe you. You had to remain calm otherwise your father, sitting next to you in the back of the chauffeur driven car, would see through you in no time. And you couldn’t have that. As the car slowed to a smooth stop, you took a deep breath, getting your head in the right space for what you were about to do.

Years of being trained on how to exit cars gracefully came into play as you followed your Father, managing to keep your dignity from being stolen by the constant bright flashes, the press obviously having been alerted that two members of one of the most powerful families, and businesses, would be at the club belonging to another of the city’s most successful citizens tonight.

This one, however, was significantly younger than your CEO Father despite having power and wealth to rival his. Both men were smart, obviously given their status, and had met long ago - knowing how useful it was to keep your biggest competitors in your good graces. Not that this meant they were friends, every time they interacted there was an undercurrent of tension. Neither got to where they were today by being nice to everyone and that attitude ran so deep in them both you’d argue it was probably ingrained in their DNA. But tonight was just a friendly visit, for your Father - who also happened to be your boss at the multi-million family business - anyways. For a change it was you that had come with the agenda, having no issue with recommending you both pay Luke a visit, stressing the importance of nurturing valuable alliances.

The loud music washed over you as soon as you were ushered inside the club, not even bothering to glance in the direction of the queue that stretched along the block knowing no one would dare kick up a fuss about you gaining instant entry. People like you that carried weighty names like yours didn’t wait. Nor did they mix with those that weren’t on their level, again there being no question about where you were headed as two large men dressed in black led you up a staircase and away from the packed, sweaty sea of people below. This wasn’t your first visit to the club in any sense, you’d come here purely for pleasure on several occasions - Luke was no idiot and he hadn’t amassed his riches from owning half-assed hole in the walls, the place was dripping in exclusive luxury. And it rubbed off on everyone who entered, regardless of where they came from for the hours they spent there they were able to experience what it was like living as the other half. But you didn’t have to queue for hours and pay an extortionate fee to get in here, which was why you were being lead to the balcony reserved purely for the owner and his personal guests. That’s where you belonged.

His eyes were on you as soon as you took the last dainty step, trailing his gaze slowly from the tip of your sky-high shoes all the way up to where your hair sat in a sleek bun atop your head, drinking in every inch of you. He smirked from where he sat comfortably on a large couch, expensive bottles lining the table in front of him, associates and scantily clad girls crowded around him. However as you and your Dad approached he cleared them out with a wave of his hand, just his security remaining. You paid no attention to the jealous glares that were being shot at you from every angle from the ladies he’d just dismissed, walking as confidently as always, the fact that you knew they had nothing on you making him grin in approval. Equally he managed retain a cool exterior as he caught a few of his business friends rake their eyes over you - knowing exactly what companies he’d be pulling his investments from come tomorrow morning.

While his business relationship with your Dad had reaped countless benefits for him, they were nothing compared to the benefits he’d received from his secret relations with you. You’d met several times, you being the deputy at the company and so being at many of the meetings he was at, both of you finding it difficult to focus on the figures being thrown around, hyperaware of the other’s presence from the very first introduction. It was inevitable really. You were both similar ages, attractive and accustomed to the same kind of lifestyle with neither of you having time to be tied down in a relationship. Not to mention the possible blow his investments in the business world - and most likely his pretty face, too - would take if one of his most valuable friends found out he was banging his daughter. But the risks involved combined with all the aforementioned factors, plus a generous helping of the allure of two people in power in such a fast paced, cut throat profession made it far too enticing for either of you to resist. None of it was ever planned, no pressure being put on either of you to feel anything. They were merely secret trysts, spontaneously dragging the other into deserted offices or conference rooms and allowing the overpowering lust to take over.

And now you were here, wearing a dress that made his head spin and looking immaculate as always, on his turf for once. But this time accompanied by the one person that made your game that little bit more difficult, although he had to admit that he was excited for the challenge. Except you weren’t here for that this time. You were going to try something far riskier.

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heatherdanyel  asked:

Riarkle/60. “Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…” :)

Lovely ask. I was going to write fluff, but apparently the closest thing I’m capable of is fluffy angst. Sorry this took so long, I was just caught up with my other riarkle fic, Sparkles.

More prompts here, and really any others that you want to send me would be appreciated.

Title: “You Cut Me Off”

He’d called Riley no less than 20 times since she’d run off, but he hadn’t gotten a single text in return. He knew he deserved it, but he was in deep shit.

It hadn’t come out the way that he’d meant, and he wished that she’d let him continue before running off. If he was lucky, she might still cry at his funeral.

It had been the day after her 16th birthday when he screwed everything up.

He’d gotten her a thoughtful gift, one that he’d been planning for months leading up to it. After he’d given it to her, she’d gone on and on about how thoughtful it was, how she’d loved it, and he basked in the attention.

The day after, she’d cornered him and told him what a great friend he was, how much she valued his friendship, with her big brown eyes nearly full of tears. She’d said, “I love you Farkle, you’re the best friend anyone could ask for,” and it was too much.

He couldn’t take it, he didn’t want to be her friend. Not only her friend, at least.

It wasn’t just her either. All day, people had been coming up to him the day of and the day after to tell him what a good friend he was. Mr. Matthews, Topanga, and a few others had all said something to the effect of “I’m glad that she has you as a friend.” It was driving him mad.

When she’d come to him the day after, he’d snapped. Not in an explosive way, he didn’t yell. Farkle just couldn’t be just her friend anymore.

“Riley, I can’t. I can’t be your friend, not - I can’t just be your friend.” As he said it, he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. Farkle felt so much shame at how greedy he was being. He had her already, wasn’t that enough?

He was about to apologize, but she spoke first. “You… you don’t want to be my friend?” Somehow, she’d developed selective hearing, because she hadn’t heard the ‘just’. Then again, it wasn’t your average romantic declaration, and he wasn’t exactly being clear.

He tried to jump in, “No, Riley, I meant -” but was cut off.

“Oh, I - I understand, Farkle. I know I’m a lot, I just thought that maybe… But that’s fine. I’m just going to - I’m gonna go.” He was struck dumb at how easily she took the blame for what she thought she’d heard.

By the time that he realized what she was saying, she was gone. He ran after her, but couldn’t see which way she’d turned, and felt himself groan in anger. He was an idiot. An imbecile. She was enough, she was more than enough, but he’d never been good at saying what he meant.

When his phone finally rang, He dove for it, hoping to see her smiley face on his caller ID, but it wasn’t. Maya’s candid glare stared back at him and he sighed because he should have known that this was coming.

He answered the phone, not even trying to feign cheerfulness. “Hey, Maya.”

Farkle, I’m coming over.” He sighed, not at all surprised at her blunt, angry tone.

“All right, I’ll see you then.” He tossed his phone into the corner of the room and threw himself down on the bed, trying not to dwell on what was coming.

After twenty-three minutes - he’d watched the damn clock - his bedroom door swung open, making a cracking sound against the wall. He heard her thunking footfalls, but she said nothing.

When he sat up to look at her, she fisted the front of his shirt and hauled him up so that he was just below her eye level. “Farkle, you’re going to tell me the truth, and that truth is going to be so magnificent that I’ll let you live after I what I saw.”

He swallowed hard and tried to keep his voice from shaking. “What exactly did you see?”

Maya’s eyes narrowed at him in a way that he could only classify as dangerous. “Riley in tears, so bad that she couldn’t even tell me what was wrong. The only thing that I understood was ‘Farkle’, so you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on.”

His eyes widened in shock as he tried to stammer out a response. “B- Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…”

She released her hold on him and he slid down to the floor. “Then get to the damn point, Farkle!”

“I tried to tell her something, and she ran away from me before I could finish.” He stared down at his fidgeting hands, waiting for her to start throwing punches, or call Lucas to do it for her.

Maya looked at him sympathetically and slid down to the floor next to him. If there was a chance that he hadn’t been trying to hurt Riley, she was going to try to give him the benefit of the doubt. “What were you trying to tell her?”

He took a breath and started, “That I -” but she cut him off.

“No, no no. What did she hear?” He withered under her measuring gaze, knowing that despite his intentions, he had hurt Riley.

“All that I managed to get out was that I didn’t want to be her friend anymore, because - well it doesn’t really matter because she just steamrolled over me and started explaining why she didn’t expect me to be her friend. I tried to - but I’m an idiot.”

Maya looked at him with consternation written all over her face. “Why did you say that then? What were you building up to?”

He looked her in the eyes, trying to convey his sincerity. “I love her Maya. I’m not good with words, and I screwed this up, but I love her. Now I’ve missed my chance, and I’ve lost her.”

Maya snorted and stood up. “I’m not going to kill you, but I’ll get you for this.” She walked out of the room but looked back at him. “Farkle, you know that you could never lose her. She jumps the gun, and she’s insecure, but she’s not someone that you can lose.”

With that, Maya was gone, and he was more hopeful than he’d been in years. He took out his phone and started tapping out a message before deleting the whole thing. This needed to be in person.

He barely had to think about which lines to take to get to her house. He knew the way there almost as well as the way to his own apartment. The trip gave him more time to think than he’d like, more time to imagine how everything could end horribly.

He spent the whole walk from the subway station rehearsing what he was going to say, but once he was in front of her building, it all flew out of his head.

Farkle pressed the buzzer and heard the cheerful voice of his history professor. “Matthews residence?”

How much did he know? “Mr. Matthews, I’m here to speak to Riley.”

With hardly any hesitation, he heard a sharp “No!”

He leaned back against the door and sighed. It never would’ve been that easy.

The buzzer sounded again, startling him. “Farkle, come on up, I need to talk to you,” came the softer voice of Riley’s mother. He yanked the door open before the lock engaged again, and made his way upstairs.

When he got to their apartment, he braced himself for the rage that might be coming toward him. The door was open before he could make the third rap of her knock, and Mr. Matthew’s not-so-friendly face greeted him. “Go, I know Topanga let you up, but you did this!”

Farkle raised his hands in surrender. “I know, sir, but I’m here to try and fix it.”

Mr. Matthews nodded his head solemnly. “You’ve got one chance Farkle, one chance before you go bye-bye, and I go off to big boy detention.” Farkle held back a furrowed brow, and nodded, not quite sure why he’d worded it that way, though the message was clear. The ridiculous wording in no way detracted from the serious tone of his message.

He walked back to her bedroom and knocked on the door. A muffled “Go away!” made its way through the heavy door and he sighed.

“Riley, it’s me” He heard nothing, but within moments, the door opened to Riley’s tearstained face.

When she took in the look of Guilt on his face, she stepped aside and let him in. She looked up at him hopefully. “Did you - Why are you here?”

His face lit up when he saw her bright, hopeful eyes, even if they were tearstained. “You cut me off, you know. You never let me finish, Riles.”

He took in the prominent wrinkle in her forehead. “Why should I have let you continue, just so that you could say all of the reasons you didn’t want to be my friend anymore?”

“I wasn’t saying that I didn’t want to be your friend, Riley. I was trying to say that I wanted to be more. I know that I’m selfish, and I know that your friendship is enough for me.” When she said nothing, he started rambling. “Can you give me a chance? I’ll take it back if it makes you uncomfortable. I just need you in my life”

Her expression hadn’t changed from the blank mask that she’d donned, and he couldn’t take much more of it. “I wouldn’t have told you, but I owed you the truth, and I haven’t been honest with you in a long time.”

He turned to leave, having said his piece when she caught his arm. “I should hate you, you know. I should hate the fact that you’re standing here, looking at me like I’ve hurt you. You hurt me, remember?”

Farkle sighed, resigned to losing his best friend. “I’m sorry, Riley. I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

“Why don’t I hate you? I don’t understand, it would be so much easier if I could.” She wasn’t quite smiling at him, but at least her face wasn’t cold anymore.

He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t when she leaned up to kiss him. It was a sweet kiss, not chaste, but not desperate either. It searched, explored. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, but she pulled back. “We’re going to talk about this later.”

Farkle didn’t much care what her stipulations were, as long as she kept kissing him. Hell, even if she didn’t kiss him anymore, he just needed her there.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a hug. “I’m glad you don’t hate me,” she smiled up at him.

He cupped her cheek in his hand and stared down at her lovingly. “I would have been sad, Riley, but there’s nothing in this world that you could do to make me hate you.”

Riley leaned up to kiss him once more before taking his hand and walking him away from the door. “I don’t think we’re ready for that right now, but do you want to sit with me? We could watch Star Wars?”

He grinned at the hopeful look on her face. “I’d love that.”

When her parents checked up on them later, they found the room washed in the light of their daughter’s laptop, and Riley, covered up to her shoulder, being held in the arms of a fully clothed Farkle, who had dozed off on top of her blanket.

Even Cory Matthews didn’t have the heart to wake them up, but Riley would soon find that she no longer had a door.

That was another story.

 I hope you liked it!

RE: The End photo *Spoilers*

Regarding the Endverse Photo hanging suspiciously in Mary’s POV.

Everything you see in a movie or a TV show is generally meant to be shorthand to communicate to the audience because film is a language and everything in and out of the frame is (when the creators know what they’re doing and care) meant to give information. SPN uses this language constantly because it really likes foreshadowing and it really likes cramming information into silent background stuff. Even if it’s not always the most straightforward and sometimes the utilization can be problematic.

I don’t think this instance is problematic or them being lazy. I think it’s blurred a little so we remember it and to cast light on that picture’s symbolism. The reality of this photo was blurred up until this point. The reality of the Endverse was blurred up until this point. This shot wants you to consider this picture and the reality it represents. I don’t think they wanted to show this picture with Dean because it’s connection to him is too direct. They needed a second, detached character whom we know little about but still has historical context to see the picture. They also needed someone with a strong connection to both Dean and Sam. Mary is unlikely to bring up the picture directly, but because this scene exists and the camera is on the photo so long, the audience is given superior positioning and gets to see the bomb before it goes off so to speak. 

This team puts obsessive time and money into the photos and pretty much every object they use and I really don’t think this was a mistake considering Jerry Wanek’s track record. I think this was the director demonstrating his Show Don’t Tell prowess.

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smileswithgrace  asked:

Prompt: Gaby is really attached to the ring Illya gave her in Rome on their first mission, so when she suddenly can't find it she starts to panic and gets upset but it turns out that Illya took it to a jeweler that day so that when he asked her to marry him, it would be with a real pearl at the center. Pls? :D

“No, no, no.” Gaby’s hands are pushing papers everywhere. The small coffee table is a mess with their latest assignment, only she’s looking for something else. Her fingers comb over the sides of the manilla envelopes before she turns her attention to the small couch. Her fingers dive down between cushions and she starts pushing the pillows out of the way and onto the floor.

“No,” She whispers pulling cushions off of the couch next, looking under them for any signs of jewelry. The ring on her left hand is gone. She’s lost it sometime in the night while discussing the latest mission with Solo and Illya both. Of course she had drank just enough too that she can’t remember when she took off the little fake ring from Rome. The transmitter in the pear died a long time ago, but Gaby kept the ring. It was still pretty and it gave her a sense of security – a reminder that Illya had been a good fake fiance before their relationship ever took off.

Throwing down the couch cushion, she stalks off towards the bedroom, pushing open the door with an irritated sigh leaving her lips, “This is not happening.” She’s talking to herself as she moves for the bedroom side table, fingers skimming along the edge of the photo frame that sits there. It’s a snapshot of Illya and herself in Prague from a few missions ago when he finally kissed her. The small sentiment made her heart skip a few beats as she searched over the nightstand and then moved the pillows on the bed.

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Who Said an Angel and a Demon Couldn’t Have a RomCom Moment?

Character: Crowley

Reader Gender: Female

Warnings: Some swearing, sexual references/implications, and usually Crowley antics, but other than that, none!

Word Count: 2256

Summary: While the reader may be hopelessly in love with Crowley, when their kind shouldn’t even love, they know that he’ll never love them back, until they finally get the moment they had only ever dreamed about. 

Author’s Note: Hey guys! Another fic that’s not a request, sorry about that! Now, this may seem a bit OOC, but hey, just let me indulge, okay?! There’s not many romantic Crowley x reader fics, (honestly there’s only smut) so I decided to write one, even if it is vaguely unrealistic! Also, the reader is an Angel in this, since I thought it kind of fit.  

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saessenach  asked:

Do you think Lucien is aware of the toxic thing between him and Tamlin? Sure, he's afraid and wary of him, but does he categorise these things as bad-fucking-bad? I mean, he doesn't exactly have that much experience with healthy relationships?

@saessenach Sorry this took eons to answer it was something I spent a long time mulling over but I’m actually really, really glad you brought this up because I think Lucien’s arc has been really well done and really well considered and this is something I absolutely want to talk about.

The short answer is no. No I don’t think he’s aware of how toxic his relationship with Tamlin is. The long answer (because of course there’s a long answer; this is me) is something that actually has a huge amount of depth and weight and is something that’s glossed over quite a lot? We all talk about Feyre’s relationship with Tamlin; and Lucien and Tamlin’s is in a lot of ways more complex on this front and less explicit (as everything is told from Feyre’s POV so we only ever see what she sees/notices/thinks which makes this more between the lines but I think it’s absolutely there within the text)

I think Feyre and Lucien’s pasts both play huge parts of how they respond to Tamlin and how they end up in the relationships they’re in with him but also how they find their way out of them (or not in Lucien’s case) I’ve mentioned this in more detail elsewhere but I’m honestly losing track of all my metas on this subject so I’ll vaguely summarise here.

Feyre and Lucien have a few similarities in their pasts I think which made them more susceptible to Tamlin’s abuse. There’s actually a really succinct quote of Feyre’s in ACOMAF that sums it up incredibly well for me:

“I’m thinking that I was a lonely, hopeless person, and I might have fallen in love with the first thing that showed me a hint of kindness and safety. And I’m thinking maybe he knew that—maybe not actively, but maybe he wanted to be that person for someone.”

This is very patently about Feyre but it could also very easily have come from Lucien. When Feyre accidentally slips into Lucien’s mind one of the things that she identifies in his pattern of thinking is how hopeless he feels. And given what his father and brothers did to him and the way his brothers treat him in ACOTAR Under the Mountain I don’t think it’s a huge stretch to say that Tamlin killing one of Lucien’s brothers after he crossed into Spring Court land and taking Lucien is was the first hint of kindness and safety that Lucien had seen too.

So those are the similarities between their pasts and the reasons, as Feyre so neatly described, that they both ended up with Tamlin and why they ended up so loyal to him. Both Feyre and Lucien put themselves in scenarios that Tamlin shows himself unwilling to enter in to for them. They both put themselves in danger, they both suffer pain, they both risk themselves over and over and over again for him and he refuses to do the same to him (Under the Mountain is all the example you need for both of them); in a lot of cases refuses to even acknowledge their pain and trauma and offer them the support he should were they in a healthy, mutual relationship. Neither of them are.

But what I want to talk about now are the differences because I think they’re very important to understanding Feyre and Lucien’s abuse but also their responses to it and their responses to each other (I’m sorry; I know you only asked me about Lucien’s situation and that will be the main thrust once I get into this but I find these parallels helpful to contrast and show what SJM is doing with their situations and why it can be hard for Lucien and the reader to notice Lucien’s situation for what it is)

So, Feyre and Lucien both had drastically different childhoods and upbringings. Neither of them can exactly be described as fun but I think they both build into the way they react to Tamlin and the situation they find themselves in at the Spring Court.

Feyre has been providing for her family and essentially being their sole parent (her father has barely lifted a finger to support/care for them in years) since she strode into the forest at the age of fourteen. This definitely wasn’t an enjoyable experience but it gave her something that Lucien I don’t think ever had growing up in the Autumn Court: independence. Feyre was in charge of her family; the way she warns Nesta away from Tomas Manderly; how she instructs them what to do with the meat and the money from the pelts before she leaves, she takes control of the situation and she deals with it.

That’s what she did with their poverty as well. She stepped up, she used her brain, she was resourceful, she taught herself how to hunt by watching others in the forest and figured out how to shoot and how to make snares and the like to help her family survive. She shows a huge amount of independence here and survivor instinct, to look after herself and those she cares for.

This is what Tamlin strips away from her so drastically in ACOMAF; she becomes a pet and a doll and a plaything, she’s reduced to picking out pretty clothes and attending parties and sitting beside him as little more than a trophy and a symbol of peace and it grates on her because it’s so drastically different from what she’s used to. She responds poorly to this firstly because of the fact that it triggers her PTSD from what she endured Under the Mountain but also because it smothers her instincts, the instincts that kept her family alive and fed for all those years. Feyre needs something to do, Feyre needs a purpose, Feyre needs that independence it’s an incredibly important part of who she is and being without it I think contributes to the depression that she falls in to.

I think once she’s taken out of her situation and has that perspective and then once it goes too far for her with the moment that Tamlin actually forcibly locks her up inside the manor she’s able to realise that this is wrong. I think she has that perspective both from Rhys and her time in Velaris but also from own past, her own experiences that she can look back on and think that this doesn’t feel right.

Lucien doesn’t have that. As you pointed out he definitely hasn’t had a lot of experience with healthy relationships. I think Lucien moved from one abusive relationship and then fell into another one. I don’t think it’s a huge stretch to assume that if Beron brutally murdered the female that his son loved and wished to marry in front of him and ensured he was forced to watch to stop him from disobeying him/leaving his court/doing something he thought inappropriate that he and Lucien had a particularly positive relationship or that he was any less controlled in the Autumn Court than he is in Spring.

This presents two problems for Lucien in recognising how toxic his situation is: Firstly he doesn’t have that difference that Feyre does that allows her perspective, hasn’t had that independence that is his right or time in Velaris that he can compare against his present situation.

Secondly I think that, whatever Tamlin does to Lucien, he is nowhere near as bad/brutal/abusive as his father and the Autumn Court were. Which means that Lucien’s perspective becomes even more skewed; not only does he not have something positive to judge against but because the situation he’s in now is more positive than the one he was in it looks positive overall.

I’m going to talk about these a little more in depth (or as much as I can, a lot of the Autumn Court stuff is implied but strongly enough that I feel pretty comfortable talking about it, even if there isn’t a lot of material to pull from quote wise) The saddest thing I think about Lucien’s story, and I’ve said this before, is that he doesn’t realise how bad it is.

a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless

“He would probably shred them for disobeying his order to stay away.”

A brush of ice slithered across my nape. “He would be that brutal?”

Lucien studied the wine in his goblet. “You don’t hold on to power by being everyone’s friend. And among the faeries, lesser and High Fae alike, a firm hand is needed.”


When Feyre accidentally slips into Lucien’s mind one of the things she notes about him is his hopelessness. (the other things are worrying too: those things being the overwhelming things she notes about Lucien’s mind are not normal and not healthy in the slightest – another indicator of his situation but again something he probably doesn’t considered out of the ordinary) With that quote it’s not difficult to see why: he thinks this is just the way that life is.


Lucien is used to brutality. Lucien is used to violence. Lucien is used to having aggression used to control him through fear. Lucien considers Tamlin being willing to physically harm someone for disobeying him (and coming to help him no less; that’s the kind of disobedience they’re discussing there) as normal.

Tamlin says that his father was as bad as Lucien’s (which I’m mentioning because we know slightly more about Tamlin’s father and his kind of brutality and the regime he operated under) Lucien’s father was the same. Lucien grew up under these conditions, Lucien has lived his entire life under these conditions, lived with the shadow of violence hanging over his head (and likely suffered a good deal of it himself) every single day since he was born. It’s become normalised for him. This is just the way the world is. This is just the way that High Lords are. That kind of violence is just something that’s to be expected.

With this in mind I don’t think it’s difficult to see how Lucien fell so easily into Tamlin’s abusive household and why he hasn’t made any attempt to leave it or make something better for himself: he likely doesn’t believe there’s anything better out there. He thinks this is the way that the world works. He thinks this is the way that all courts operate. And it’s actually incredibly upsetting if you think about it like that? Lucien is miserable, he’s potentially if not likely depressed, he’s being physically and emotionally abused and he’s not doing anything about it.

But I think it also makes a lot of sense with what we’ve seen from Lucien? Lucien fights for other people. Lucien fights for Tamlin; Lucien fights for Feyre; Lucien never fights for himself. Which makes perfect sense when you consider this? He doesn’t think he has anything to fight for, he doesn’t see the point in fighting to make things better for himself because he doesn’t think that that’s possible. The situation that he’s been trapped in for centuries is one that’s become so normalised that I don’t even think he considers trying to escape from it because escape to what?

To swing back to that second point I made which does build on this one but also explains Lucien’s behaviours with Tamlin. A lot of times, like that quote about needing a firm hand to hold on to power and brutality being not only the done thing but the necessary thing from what he’s been taught, Lucien actually makes excuses for Tamlin’s brutal behaviour. He does it an awful, awful lot in ACOMAF, he justifies what he’s doing and explains it away to Feyre which I don’t think is him being complicit I think it’s just him telling her how his work looks. This is the way things are, she just has to find a way to survive in it the way he has.

But I think the biggest thing here is that Tamlin saved him from his family; Tamlin took him away from his first abusive situation. So it’s going to be incredibly difficult to see the second situation as abusive as well because Tamlin saved him from his family. So not only is nothing Tamlin does ever going to be as brutal as Beron’s rule or as harsh and upsetting as his murder of Lucien’s first lover but Tamlin also appears as Lucien’s protector; as he does with Feyre.

That’s one of the most difficult things about Tamlin. His abuse is founded in protection. That’s how he justifies it. And protection tends to be something that we generally view positively (especially if; like Lucien and Feyre; you’ve never had anyone to protect and look after you before)

“As emissary,” I began, “has he ever had dealings with his father? Or his brothers?”

“Yes. His father has never apologized, and his brothers are too frightened of me to risk harming him.” 

On first blush there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with this quote or the intent behind it. But I think it’s the same thing as Feyre. Tamlin’s protection is twisted and it very quickly transforms itself into abusive control and it does the same thing here. The surface of this is I protect Lucien from his abusive brothers but the undercurrent is that I am the only thing standing between Lucien and his sadistic brothers brutally murdering him. Which is a lot less healthy because Tamlin is aware of this fact and Lucien is aware of it as well.

Lucien I think views this as a continuing protection on Tamlin’s part, something positive always not negative. Tamlin continues to stand between him and his brothers isn’t he great? Only no, he’s not because he uses the debt that that incurs to hold over Lucien, to compel him to return to the place where he was abused and no doubt suffers from returning to (which also reminds him exactly what Tamlin is protecting him from. This is the only thing you have to go back to if you leave me) This protection I don’t think is a chip that Tamlin has that binds Lucien to him. Lucien can’t leave; he has nowhere to go, no-one else who will keep him safe from his brothers. But Lucien also continually owes Tamlin for keeping up this protection. Which is an incredibly unhealthy way for him to live because it essentially makes him incapable of refusing Tamlin.

So here we can see again: Tamlin has stripped Lucien of his choices; the same way he did with Feyre. Lucien does not have a choice here. He has nowhere to go and the kind of relationship that Tamlin has set up with him compels Lucien’s loyalty and obedience through the continued protection he seems to be offering against Lucien’s family.

This is another form of control through fear which Tamlin uses a lot. The outbursts of violence and Lucien’s avoidance of triggering them (that repeated ‘don’t push me’ line and the conditioning effect that comes from Tamlin’s rages and punishments) are one such but this is another one. Lucien is afraid of Tamlin, but he’s more afraid of his past; he’s more afraid of his father and his brothers. So by comparison Tamlin looks like a benefactor.

We can see how incredibly unhealthy Lucien and Tamlin’s relationship is because we have an outside perspective and we can see (as Feyre sees through her perspective of her own past and then Velaris) that their dynamic is imbalanced, not mutual, controlling and abusive. Lucien can’t. Tamlin I think appears as a protector to Lucien; it’s kind of like the lesser of two evils? But Tamlin is such a lesser evil compared to the Autumn Court that he doesn’t look evil at all. He’s what’s protecting him from that evil.

And yes sometimes he’s brutal, sometimes he puts Lucien down, refuses to validate his opinions and emotions, sometimes maybe he even hurts Lucien. But all High Lords do that; it’s just the way things have to be so Lucien doesn’t hold that against him. At worst they become neutral characteristics, things Lucien likely blames himself for (based on Tamlin’s views on accountability; punishment is not his fault, it’s his victims; because they did something to mean he had to punish them, he doesn’t have any responsibility for that violence or aggression; Lucien likely parrots this)

Lucien’s scenario is actually incredibly upsetting and tragic. He is trapped in this relationship both because he has nowhere else to go if he ever left Tamlin but also because he likely doesn’t see he’s trapped. He likely doesn’t see the hold that Tamlin has over him. I think it’s a case of Stockholm Syndrome really (though I’m not a psychologist or anything like that, I mean that in the loosest, broadest of terms) but Lucien empathises with and defends his captor because he mistakes a lack of the kind of aggression and violence that he’s used to as kindness and he views Tamlin’s form of control as protection.

It’s incredibly damaging to see Lucien as anything other than a victim because that’s what he is. It’s incredibly damaging to say that he should have done more to help Feyre because Lucien is trapped in exactly the same if not slightly worse scenario than Feyre was. And he is incapable of getting himself out of that scenario; he’s incapable of even seeing that scenario is wrong, as something that he should escape from; he’s incapable of seeing that he deserves better than this; that he can have better than this; that he doesn’t have to live this way because he thinks this is the way everyone lives. He has normalised and thus accepted his own abuse.

He needs help. He needs Feyre to help him out of this situation, explain to him why it’s wrong and help him to form healthy bonds with people. And I think the biggest thing that gets me about Lucien is that he has never become his abusers. Lucien is not brutal, Lucien is not aggressive or violent. We very, very rarely see Lucien display any of the typical kind of Fae male aggressive behaviours, snarling, territorial behaviour it’s only when he’s pushed into it (when talking about Ianthe approaching him and after Elain is taken are the only two times I think he ever displays it)

Lucien is actually incredibly gentle all things considered, he is largely kind I think, he does his best to help Feyre Under the Mountain and at the beginning of ACOMAF (often risking himself to do so) He’s framed as a warrior but I think he’s also framed as a protector; he gives Feyre blades for protecting herself for example and I can’t actually think of him harming anyone (and the only mention of it is him killing his brother; which was self-defence)

Lucien has endured nothing but violence and brutality since the day he came into the world. He was raised in one of the more cutthroat courts in Prythian, his father butchered his lover and made him watch; his brothers hunted him down; and he’s been trapped in a physically and emotionally abusive relationship for centuries. But he himself shows very little leaning towards violence or aggression. He’s a cocky, arrogant eejit with a sharp tongue but that’s the sharpest, harshest thing about him.

So yes, to reach a kind of TL;DR summary: Lucien has been raised in controlling, aggressive, abusive situations his entirely life. He has no healthy baseline for relationships. Tamlin showed him some little kindness and safety; something he had never known from his previous home and gave him a place. Nothing Tamlin does will ever be as bad as what his family did to him; no threat that Tamlin poses will ever be as great as the one his family poses. He may be afraid of Tamlin and his rage but he makes excuses for it because, scared as he is of him, he’s more scared of his family who would slaughter him were they not in turn afraid of Tamlin.

So Lucien views Tamlin as a saviour, as someone he is continually indebted to. He forgives Tamlin his controlling, aggressive behaviour because he continues to show little kindnesses to him, like keeping his brothers too afraid to harm him. Lucien I think is incapable therefore of seeing his relationship with Tamlin for what it is and I just pray that someone in ACOTAR 3 takes him out of that situation, explains why it’s wrong and helps him learn to form healthy, mutually beneficial relationships with people because he very badly needs and deserves that chance.

Why does Snape feel like such a personal character?

It’s been said a number of times, but I find it fascinating that a lot of people have picked up on how “personal” Severus Snape’s character seems to be for JK Rowling.  There’s a lot of emotion there, a fierceness and protectiveness that she has when defending his character against people.

But I think I’ve figured it out.

Now just a caveat here, this is fan theory, so don’t get bent out of shape if you don’t agree.

I’ll be honest.  I read the first couple HP books when I was in junior high/high school.  I was really emotionally abused and neglected (and kina treated like inferior by my parents for being female), so I REALLY heavily empathized with Harry.  Anyone that Harry hated, I disliked.  That included Snape, who often felt to me like the stereotypical strict teacher.  I had a couple of those.  As people they were generally not so bad, but in the classroom they oozed strictness.  

I remember OOTP really clearly because it came out while I was going to junior college and I was living in this tiny room at the back of my grandmother’s house.  I remember reading it in one night and feeling like it was the most claustrophobic book.  Literally the whole beginning where they’re cleaning out Grimmauld Place through Umbridge’s horrible rule of the school all the way to the end, it feels like you’re being stifled and constrained.

But I confess that I fell off the bandwagon with the last two books.  Other than the iconic line of “SNAPE KILLS DUMBLEDORE” back from the early 2000′s troll website 4chan, which did not impress me at all, I kinda just forgot about the series.

Until…it’s kind of silly, but ok, here goes.  So I started taking my kids to the children’s library to get books to read to them before bed time.  They’re really young so mostly picture books.  But there are these posters at the front doors to the children’s library that are the actors from the HP movies holding books and encouraging people to read.  It was like a subliminal message!  After a few months of going to the library, I suddenly wanted to read all the books again.  Starting with the first one.  So I did.  I slowly worked my way through all of the books and it was really cool.  Reading it from an adult’s point of view was rather illuminating in many ways.  I still heavily empathized with Harry (obviously!), but I also began to pay attention to a lot of the subtle behaviors of the adults characters in the books, and that was the first time I started thinking “ugh, Dumbledore is so manipulative and gross even though he thinks he’s doing the right thing” and when I started looking at Snape and being like “holy crap on a biscuit, he gets a raw deal.”

And even as a kid, I kinda recognized Snape’s behavior, but I didn’t really empathize with a lot of it until after I became a parent.

So, ok, many people on this site may not be parents or have experience parenting, but I’ll be honest with you.  As much as I love my children, the 24/7ness of it and the constant nature of the role is utterly soul-draining and exhausting.  The isolation from others makes you hyper sensitive to things, especially noise.  If you suffer from anxiety, children will make it a thousand times worse because they basically run towards certain death giggling all the while and acting like they know what they’re doing goddamnit stop trying to rain on their parade.

Now, if children learned better the first time, it would be somewhat manageable. But most children do not.  In fact, it often takes them a ludicrous number of times being reminded that, no, do not stick metal objects in the wall socket or no, you do not run into the street because in both situations you will GET HURT AND DIE.

To me, Snape seems like the sort of guy who’s basically forced every year to teach completely ignorant babies how to work with really dangerous stuff THAT CAN KILL THEM but instead of listening to him, they keep doing shit like sticking forks in wall sockets.

I mean, maybe the first couple of years, he could have felt a little bit like “ok, I can kinda understand, they’re young, etc etc etc,” but there’s a point in teaching and in parenting when you just have to look at your child and go “oh my god, can you be any more of a fucking moron this is the fiftieth time I’ve swooped in before you nearly beheaded yourself good fucking lord it was in a locked cabinet how the hell did you even GET to it?!”

Now, before anyone accuses me of abusing my children either verbally or physically, know that the majority of this is inner monologue.  You will not believe how many times I’ve had to turn around to disguise massive eye-rolls.  Or when I’ve had to stand and let them hurt themselves mildly (like, they’re climbing on a box that I’ve told them not to climb on because they’ll fall over, but they don’t stop doing it and so I’m like, fine, learn the hard way).  I’m fairly strict.  Food does not go in the bedroom.  You clean up after your stuff or your stuff goes away.  ETC.

But I’m also fair.  Part of me feels like a good amount of Snape’s character comes from that dark pit of frustration and snark that you develop when you’re forced day in and day out to deal with people who don’t want to listen to you but then turn around and whine and cry and demand to know why you didn’t just shout over them until they listened when they were refusing to listen earlier. You get to a point where you either start snarking and cynically observing things: “Oh, yes, it is very hard to be a baby, so difficult to be fed and clothed and carried around” as a coping mechanism because otherwise, the human race would cease to exist because no children would survive childhood after having been thrown out to fend for themselves.

That frustration, that boundless rage that must be controlled carefully at all times is something you see in that character, and it’s a huge part of parenting, especially with small children.  How controlled he is except in very specific situations.  How certain characters actively TRY to provoke him while others try to be as unnoticeable as possible.  

A part of me feels like this is one of the big reasons why Harry named his second child (not his first) Albus Severus Potter.  Because with your first kid, you’re super idealistic.  You’re going to be the Fun, Perfect Parent.  You’re going to have adventures with your kid every day.  You’re NEVER going to yell at your kid or give them punishments!  You’re going to hug them and kiss them every moment and you’re not going to be like Those Other Parents.  And for awhile, it’s like that.  In fact, perhaps it’s like that for about six months or so.  But then the sleep deprivation begins to mount.  You find that no one wants to see you anymore.  You’re not really doing much more than working and coming home.  And your spouse and you feel like you’re basically just tag teaming to keep the exhaustion from completely overwhelming you.  Maybe you’ll be lucky and have a grandparent or two that you can count on, but you might not.  And even a weekend or two isn’t going to save you from what happens when you just don’t sleep or you don’t get adequate sleep because you’re dealing with baby problems randomly at night.

Oh, and did I forget to tell you?  Having a child is kind of like having a random alarm that could go off at any time.  Sometimes the alarm goes off once per day.  Sometimes it goes off ten times per day.  The sound of the alarm is the same loudness for a minor emergency and a life-threatening emergency.  But you never really know when it’s going to go off and so eventually, it makes you really anxious and neurotic all the time because you think it might just go off right now and you have no way of knowing if it will and OH GOD WHAT IF IT IS AN EMERGENCY…..

So not only are you dealing with that, but then….you’re dealing with shouting all the time.  Shouting and screaming and whining.  And half the time it has a reason that can be addressed.  The other half of the time…it’s just there because.

So I can see Harry getting through his first year or two as a dad and being like OMG WTF I take it all back this is fucking hard.  And then Ginny’s pregnant again and he’s like “oh my god, if this is even a fraction of what other people have to go through year in and year out….”  And then he thinks of Dumbledore and how many years he was a professor, and he thinks of Severus as well because he didn’t even WANT to be a teacher and he was forced to do that for years and years…it’s almost as bad as being forced to be a parent against your will.

So anyway, I know I’m rambling a bit, but here’s the point: Snape’s character is all about control and loss of control.  Being a parent is a lot like that.  You have to deal with a lot of ugly, unsavory feelings.  Sleep deprivation and stress and anxiety from being a parent and dealing with child behavior as well as societal bullshit and lack of social networks all contribute to a feeling of helplessness and makes it easier to be on a hair trigger.  Sarcasm often goes over children’s heads, anyway, so it’s often a viable thing you can use until a certain age just to get yourself through the day.  Because, at some point, your child throwing herself on the floor because she wants the purple shoes instead of the pink shoes but she put the purple shoes in one of the fifty different purses she has for some reason because people keep buying her purses no matter how much you tell them to stop doing that and she refuses to stop putting her goddamn shoes in random bags and then squirreling them around the house for some secret reason she refuses to share with you…well…you either have to scream or you have to laugh wryly and think of something witty to say to keep yourself from going mad.  Because when you’re an adult, the color of your kid’s shoes is not a crisis.  It’s ridiculous to dissolve into a screaming prone figure bawling on the floor because of it.  If you were to do something like that, you’d be carted off to the looney bin.  But to her, it’s a huge problem.

You will read stories of parents who hurt their children, who abuse their children who spend every day saying hurtful things all the time to their kids.  This is sometimes just because that parent was a bad person to begin with.  But a lot of the time, when it happens ever so often (and often when the children scream so often that you have to scream and shout too just to be heard), it’s because that darkness, that vicious desire to slap your kid for biting you out of nowhere that you must hold yourself back from engaging in, that feels very personal to me.

And it’s something that I see in his character and can empathize rather strongly with. And, to some extent, I feel like that’s at least partially where JK writes him from- from her own deep, dark pit of mom rage.

anonymous asked:

Playing Mario Kart with Daichi+Kuroo+Kenma+Oikawa and their s/o?

So I have only played mario cart on a DS, so if it’s about Wii n stuff. I don’t know, except that rainbow road is satan pure hell road. 

Daichi in the rainbow road level and instead of competing each other now to get first place, it’s instead playing together to see how they can pass the course in the first place. They take turns trying to find new ways to get through the road and in first place along with some yelling here and there when the other “players” use items against them when they’re so close to winning. Gaming with Daichi is fun and fluffy

Kuroo its the final lap there’s one special item box right in front of him but as he is approaching it, his s/o crashes into his side and takes the special item box from him just as he is about to get it which helps them by crossing the finish line first. He can hardly believe how he were defeated. Gaming with Kuroo is a experience of lots of silly comments and yeh

Kenma teaching his s/o how to play Mario kart, showing them the basics for about an hour and letting them play some races on their own, his s/o starts getting really good and when they win their first race and gets a trophy they get excited and shoot up from the couch as they cheer and softly high five each other. Gaming with Kenma is actually really relaxing and cute

Oikawa all about that competition. It’s fun right? Loser has to buy dinner but the thing is that after each time there’s a winner, none of them want to go out for dinner so it goes from being “Best two out of three” to “Best twenty out of twenty one” and so on. Gaming with Oikawa is a competition of fun, lots of laughs and sassy comments

anonymous asked:

I really enjoyed the Vietnam War Claire and Jamie! Would you consider continuing it? :)

Vietnam AU

That night, as she sweat under the scratchy blankets of her lumpy cot, watching the moldy blades of the ceiling fan slowly sweep around and around in a failing attempt to cool the room – Claire’s skin still burned from Captain Fraser’s touch.

From Jamie’s touch.

It had only been seconds – he’d snatched his hand away when footsteps approached his bed.

“Nurse Randall!” Mary Hawkins had briefly turned to glance at Jamie on the bed before coming to a stop directly beside Claire. “There you are. We just got the call – choppers are coming. Better scrub up now, we don’t know how many wounded there are.”

Claire had nodded absently, pressing her lips together. “Thank you, Nurse Hawkins. Tell the doctors I’ll be right there – just finishing up something on Captain Fraser’s chart.”

Mary, bless her, had been oblivious to the obvious tension, and with a quick nod had turned on her pretty heel and swished back down the aisle of beds toward the OR.

Claire had taken a deep breath and shifted her eyes to meet Jamie’s.

They were so blue – the pupils dilated wide in awe.

And desire?

She then cleared her throat. “I must be going.” Her voice was quiet – but she bravely met his gaze.

He had licked his lips, and then spoken again in Gaelic.

It didn’t matter that she hadn’t understood a word – for she knew exactly what he was saying.

*Thank you. Be careful. I’ll be here when you’re done.*

She hadn’t stopped by to say goodnight – not even after four hours of back-breaking surgery. Two brave men had died on the operating table tonight. Their wounds were far less extensive than Jamie’s – but then again, they didn’t all have his stubbornness or his iron constitution.

*Stop it, Beauchamp. You *can’t* be thinking this way. No way in hell can you develop feelings for this man. You’re married, for Christ’s sake.*

She hadn’t stopped by to say goodnight because she was afraid that, even in her sweaty, blood-spattered scrubs, she would want to just sit by him, watch him sleep, and listen to him speak in that strange, beautiful language.

Four feet away in the next cot, Nurse Graham began to snore.

Claire curled onto her side, kicked off her blanket, and dug the cool, hard metal of Frank’s wedding ring into the side of her arm.

Forcing herself to remember her promises to the man she hadn’t seen – hadn’t thought of – in months.

Forcing images of mist-filled mountains, cool pine forests, and rustic log cabins from her mind.

Over the next three days, she had visited him once in the morning and once in the evening. Updating his chart, refilling his morphine drip, checking his wounds to ensure that no infection was brewing.

Just the same level of care as any other nurse would provide.

But why did she insist on making all of his checks? Even if it meant she also had to check on the injured men resting beside him – the type of work she’d always shied away from in the past?

It was his genuine joy at seeing her, every single time.

How he said her name – with such reverence.

How he said thank you (*Tang do-it* - she’d been able to decipher that much) – every time.

And, if she was being perfectly honest – how he’d always reached for a small, quick touch.

She normally preferred pants – but hadn’t worn them since he’d arrived.

She hadn’t encouraged him – but then again, she hadn’t exactly *discouraged* him. She’d made it a point to check on him with her left hand, so that he could see Frank’s small, gold band. But she’d never brought it up – and she certainly couldn’t understand what he was saying, had he tried to ask her about it.

There was no telling how long he’d be here at Chu Lai – his back was still so fragile that the risk of transportation was too great. Unlike most of the other soldiers, who could be med-evaced out to another location farther from the front lines, he couldn’t. Which was why it had taken so long for the neurologist to chopper in all the way from Saigon for an exam.

All the way from Saigon, Boston Joe had said. No way the Marines would spring for that for just anybody.

Who *was* James Fraser?

And why did he make her feel more – more excitement, more simple happiness, more like a woman – than Frank ever had?

But she pushed all those thoughts from her mind as she finished her checks on a dozing Corporal MacKenzie and finally stepped around the next bed to greet Jamie.

He had heard her checking on Angus – a man with a dour disposition and a number of broken ribs, having been hit by a projectile that he swore was Charlie’s poor imitation of a cannonball – but couldn’t turn to face her, as his back was still covered in bandages. She knew he knew she was there – he had been fidgeting, hands clenching as they hung off the bed.

“Good morning, Captain Fraser.”

Such formality was imperative in the presence of the other men, especially when they were awake. But she so wished it wasn’t necessary.

His head tilted so that he could meet her eyes – teeth flashing in a broad smile. “Maddin math,” he rasped, voice rough with sleep.

“Any discomfort during the night – more than the usual?”

She picked up the chart hanging from the foot of his bed and leaned over to check his bandages.

She knew he would reach to touch her knee – and he did.

Warm. Gentle.

“It’s scabbing over nicely – and there’s no drainage.”

His fingers started to caress the tender skin behind her knee.

“I think we can take the bandages off in a few days – I’ll need to make a full examination of the skin, make sure that there’s definitely nothing left in there.”

Fire raced up her leg – warmth flooded her chest.

She rested one hand on the top of his arm as she sat in the creaky chair beside him – not caressing, but just touching.

“Claire,” he whispered.

She swallowed. “You’ll be here for the foreseeable future – it’s too risky to move you, with your back the way it is. It’s so hot and humid and there are so many tropical diseases you could catch. And then there’s the matter of your speech.”

He spoke – it sounded like a question.

“There’s a doctor coming all the way up from Saigon today to check you out. Apparently what’s happened to you is extremely rare – the guy coming is an Army neurologist. He’ll probably want to do some tests.”

She slid her hand down his arm and bravely took his hand. Her thumb ran over the bumpy knuckles, then caressed the callouses on his palm. So he was a soldier – but also likely a farmer.

He laced their fingers together. So confident.

Now was her chance.

She glanced behind her – Private Coulter was still asleep.

Her heart clenched – ready to be broken.

“Jamie – I – I can’t do this.”

His eyes widened in fear. “Claire – ”

“It’s not you – it’s me. I’m married. I can’t allow myself to feel anything – I can’t feel anything for you.”

“No!” he hissed.

Shocked into English?

“No. No, Claire,” he repeated.

Then more Gaelic – urgent, deliberate. Their fingers squeezed so tightly that she feared he would break one of her bones.

She shook her head – no longer feeling the need to breathe. For she had to put this fantasy to an end.

“I wish I could understand you,” she whispered.

“Claire,” he beseeched. “Claire.”

“Jamie – ”

The door at the other end of the ward slammed shut – then bootsteps in the aisle.

Quickly she rose and dropped Jamie’s hand, turning to face –

“Nurse Randall? Dr. Ned Gowan. I understand you’ve been caring for someone that I would very much like to meet.”

Jealous Boyfriend (Changes pt. 2)

Author: theweirdymcweirderson

Characters: Dean Wincheste, Reader, Sam Winchester, Creepy Vampire

Relationships: Dean Winchester×Reader, Sam Wincheter×Reader (brother/sister kind of relationship)

Word count: 7k more or less

Warnings: Smut, Teasing, Fluff, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex, lip biting, Grinding, Light Bondage (It’s actually just the reader tied to Dean’s bedpost), Jealous Dean, Possessive Dean, Make up sex (kind of), Creepy vampire, Dry humping on a chair, Vibrator, Sex Toys, dom!Dean

Summary: Dean and the reader step still hiding their relationship from Sam, and while on a hunt, Dean gets jealous about the reader flirting with a guy to get information. + imagine Dean’s face when you crawl up his bed wearing his shirt (it was something along this lines *akward smile* the gif was on DirtySupernaturalImagines)

Find previous parts here:



Keep reading

i missed you the most (luke hemmings one shot)

somehow you find the other half of your soul in your cheesy, weird best friend luke


it’s been a year and your best friend luke is back home and you’re kind of in love with him

“There’s a twig in your hair.”

Keep reading

Hot Water (Part 3)

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~Later the same day~

You trudged your way back down the street. Your interview had been a bust. The manager had only been doing interviews as a courtesy; you knew the moment you walked in when his daughter walked in for her ‘interview’ that no one else was getting the job. You kicked a rock with your sandal, “Aish!” you exclaimed as your toe smarted. It began to rain as you neared YG. The straps on your sandals rubbed small blisters on your toes and heels and your hair curled in wet ringlets, dripping lines down your silk blouse, which was surely ruined. You stomped into YG, determined to dry off before going home. Jinwoo would still be here somewhere. He practiced way too much for his own health; maybe you could pry him away with the promise of food and coffee and he could maneuver a ride home from some friend of his.

No one was at the front desk now that it was past 5pm so you just followed your footsteps from earlier. You bypassed the empty meeting room and moved down towards where you thought the practice rooms were. You heard music playing from a partially closed door, “Jinwoo-oppa?” You questioned as you knocked lightly. The door opened and you gaped at the precision with which the two men moved. They were in their full performing glory as GD and TOP moved to High High. The song ended and the men looked over as they noticed your presence.  You could see your own reflection in the mirror. You were sopping wet with smudged mascara, your hair fell in snarled curls, your blouse was hopelessly water stained, and you held your shoes in your hand as angry welts glowed on your feet. You looked, and felt, horrendous. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I thought I heard Jinwoo-oppa” You bowed and went to leave. “Wait.” To your surprise it was GD who spoke. “Here” He said and tossed you a spare towel. “Stay for a bit, Seung-Hyun will take you home later.  Jinwoo’s dongseng, right?” You nodded sheepishly and rubbed the towel in your hair. You sat on the floor against the wall as they started practice again. Seung-Hyun had looked at you when you came in, but you could feel his heavy stare in the mirror as he danced. You finished drying your hair as best as possible and a shiver ran through you. You wrapped the towel around your shoulders to fight the chill. GD ended practice and you stood to exit with them. GD smiled and exited quickly to the changing rooms, leaving you alone with Seung-Hyun. The tension in the room warmed you several degrees as you played with your hair and looked at the floor.

A heavy leather jacket smelling of man landed softly on your shoulders and, thankful for its warmth you slid your arms into the too long sleeves and wrapped the front closed around you. You smiled warmly at Seung-hyun who just smirked in response. He wore ripped jeans that hugged his hips deliciously and his t-shirt had the sleeves removed to excellently showcase his biceps, still slick with sweat from practice. He grabbed a tote next to the door and motioned for you to follow. He led you to a parking garage attached to the building and beeped open a sleek looking sports car. You sidled in to the passenger’s seat after he swung the door open for you. Once comfortable, you looked around in awe. The car started smoothly with little sound as Seung-hyun pulled out of the garage. The air felt too warm, but the cool air conditioning coming from the vents left goosebumps on your legs. Your knee was suddenly warm and you looked down to see Seung-hyun’s hand resting on your knee. You suddenly couldn’t breathe. “I need to do something before I take you home, is that all right?” His thumb traced a pattern of circles on the outside of your knee. It was so scandalous you turned pink, but it felt so good to have the contrast of his heat on your skin. You didn’t even realize he had stopped until the warmth was gone and your door was opened.

Seung-hyun was done controlling himself. He reached over you and undid your seatbelt. You watched him in confusion. He grasped your hand and hauled you out of the car, pressing you against the back end as his hand tangled in your hair and his lips found yours. “Seung-Hyun-oppa!” You gasped between breaths. “Shh” came the command, the rumble in his chest vibrating through the hand you had resting on him. His lips moved gently down your jaw to your neck to latch in the hollow above your collarbone. He nibbled hard enough to bruise and you squeaked. You could feel his smirk against your skin as he rose from his stooped position. Without a word he pulled you through a door and up a flight of stairs. You were in a well-furnished apartment with white walls and large windows covered with gauzy light blue cloth. The jacket he lent you somehow ended up on the leather couch as he ran his warm hands up your arms to rest on your shoulders. “Let’s get you warmed up.” He gently found yours lips with his own again as his hands went up and down your arms to warm them. All the while he was backing you up slowly across the wooden floor. Your bare foot hit tile and you turned briefly to realize you were in a grand bathroom. “What, where?” You questioned as Seung-hyun paused to twist the dials above the tub. “I’ve been thinking of this since I first saw you” he breathed down the back of your neck as he wrapped himself around you to unbutton your blouse. You grasped the edges back together nervously. You had wanted this too, T.O.P. was one of your ultimate fantasies, but you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Jinwoo would kill you if he knew.

You let out a nervous chuckle. Seung-hyun looked at you concerned for a moment before stripping himself of his shirt. “You only have to say stop and I will” he said, but you already knew you wouldn’t. You stepped forward to trace his defined abdomen with feather light touches of your fingers. You looked into his eyes, “I want this” and his lips came crashing down on your own. He stripped you down expertly and swiftly removed his own garments. He stood in the tub, steam rising around him and beckoned you to him. You stepped in to meet him; his member was at half-staff, rubbing gently against you as you molded yourself to him. He turned you around so that you were facing away and gently lowered the both of you into the scorching heat of the bath. His strong hands massaged your shoulders and back while his mouth found every sweet spot on your neck. Soon you were mewling aloud as his mouth worked its way down your back with his fingers. One of his hands snaked around to glide up your waist and fondle your breast. Your own hands clenched at his muscular thighs surrounding you as a tingle went from your chest to where you could feel his hard length rubbing teasingly against your opening. You maneuvered your head to lean back over his shoulder so that you could turn your face in for a kiss. His tongue snaked into your parted lips without hesitation and his teeth tugged on your bottom lip. You lifted yourself up out of the water enough to turn around, placing you knees on either side of him as you proceeded to follow a similar path to his own down his chest with your hands and teeth. A groan of appreciation came as you traced around his nipple with the tip of your tongue, blowing gently on it and teasing with your teeth. Seung-hyun reached between you with long fingers to find your wetness. You nearly collapsed on top of him as one finger massaged your clit and another found its way inside of you. His other hand found your neglected breast and you perched over him, half kneeling as the sensations of his mouth and hands overwhelmed you. He entered a second finger and moved them in and out of you in a slow tortuous rhythm. You nearly slipped again and his hand was removed, you whimpered in response. He chuckled deeply and slid you forward and up until he was lined up with your entrance. “Look at me” he commanded when you tried to close your eyes. He stared you down with that same dark stare he kept trained on you during practice as he sheathed himself inside you.

“Mm!” A sharp pinch let you know that he was there and he gasped as he grasped the situation. You smiled sheepishly at him and his startled and slightly horrified expression, “Don’t worry, I want this”. His gaze grew dark again at your words, “Are you ready?” You shifted slightly to ease the unusual pressure you felt and nodded. He began to move slowly beneath you, not removing himself much until you began to feel a warmth in your belly. As you grew accustomed to him, he stood, still inside of you to lay you on the bath mat. His large form loomed over you as he moved. You squirmed as his now cold hand moved to caress your body and Seung-hyun hit a spot inside that left you reeling. You bit down on his neck as he continued to find that spot, light and dark flashes clouding your vision as a tension continued to build. You could hear yourself becoming more vocal as Seung-hyun’s own grunts became less controlled. An explosion of sensation flooded over you just as you began to think you couldn’t take anymore and you let out a shriek of pleasure. Seung-hyun smothered your scream with his mouth as he continued to move inside of you. His pace became jagged as he worked you through the after waves of your orgasm and followed with his own. He collapsed on top of you for a moment, breathing heavily. You panted beneath him in a haze of warmth and comfortableness. As he pulled himself out of you, you could feel that soreness begin to set in, but it was a good soreness, one that made you smile. Seung-hyun smiled lazily at you in contentment. You could see the exhaustion on his face, but he picked you up and set you back in the bath water that was soon to be tepid. You couldn’t help but smile and giggle as he took his time bathing you and washing your hair. Seung-hyun wrapped you in a large fluffy towel and robe as he drained the tub. You followed him into a dim bedroom as he pulled out dry clothing for you to put on. You eyed the bed tentatively. “I can always tell Jinwoo-oppa I won’t be home tonight” you spoke before you thought. Seung-hyun turned to you and raised an eyebrow questioningly. “There’s always hot water here if you need a shower.” You met him at the edge of the bed and fell in a tangle of sheets and towel as he began making sure you would need another shower.