#sir i know it's been a rough patch since your divorce but my GOD sir

[jtownraindancer]

pairing this with a sermon I heard Sunday called "The Unholy Power of The Tongue"

Just passed a church sign that said “the most powerful position is on your knees”. Hm.! Curious

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Midterm Madness

Luke Hughes x OC

"Babe?" His rough, sleep-filled voice mumbles, rolling over in our bed. "What are you doing up?"

"Oh God, did I wake you?" I answer instead, dulling the screen of my laptop that sits in front of me. "I've been trying so hard to type quietly." Okay, that wasn't the answer Lu was looking for, based on how adorably confused he is right now, curls everywhere.

"It's- two in the morning Baby, why aren't you asleep?" He tries again, pulling the textbook off my lap, "And what is this?"

"I have a midterm in the morning, I was just studying now since I didn't have a chance to today at the hospital and then I got home with barely enough time to make dinner before you and Ja -"

"I wish you would have told me Baby," He interrupts, rolling on top of me and preventing any further studying. "I don't want you to feel like you have to cook for the Jack and I when you spend the night here, especially after a shift or on an exam night."

"But I enjoy it, it's like sitting down to family dinner and I don't get those when I go home," I can't help but remind, because it's the truth. He was there during my parents divorce last year when my sister left for school and made them an empty nester. He knows what was lost, and the Hughes family did their best to fill it in.

"How can I help with..." Are the next words out of his mouth, his strong arms pulling my back into his chest, holding the textbook in his hands as if he were reading. "Biochemical reactions?"

"I appreciate your efforts baby but you have practice tomorrow, and-"

"And nothing. Come on, if you're up, I'm up, and we're going to overnight this like when we were in Michigan," He demands, moving from the bed and taking all of his warmth with him. Throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, he tosses me his hoodie, my favorite one, and holds out his hand, taking my books and computer from me. "We're going to make some tea, settle down at the dining table, and get this shit done, okay?"

"Okay, I can agree to these terms," I can't help but agree, seeing the soft smile he's using on me, pulling his sweatshirt over my head and throwing my hair up. "We've got this."

"Hell yeah we do," Lu assures, leaving me to follow him as he exits his room, sprawling all of my things across the table, only pausing when another male voice interrupts the silence of the room from the couch.

"Moose? Mayday?" Jack's voice is the one to call, his head ducking up over the back of the couch, game controller in hand and brows in the sky. "What are you two doing up?"

"Mae has a midterm in the morning so we're going to study for it," Lu answers, turning to me, "Want to grab the snacks and drinks? You need fuel if we're going to survive this."

"Yes sir," I answer with a mock salute, wandering away with the boys chattering in the back ground. It's on my return that I pause, seeing both boys sitting at the table with their noses in my textbook. "Boys?"

"Can't have my future sister-in-law bombing an exam now can I? Who else is going to patch me up when I get into another fight?" And while it's a joke, you can see in his body language how much he does care.

"What fight? I thought that brawl with Aho wasn't a fight?" I can't help but chirp, his eyes rolling and Luke laughs, pulling me down to sit next to him, his lips meeting my forehead.

"Yeah, you think you're so funny Doc, now tell me, what's the golgi apparatus?"

[itsnewstome]

#4 ("God, you're pretty) for the prompt list! (and i love your writing so much its the best k thx bye)

send me more prompts

MUHUHAHAHAHAHA

So you didn’t gimme a pairing, so it’s Gen. Sorry? im not sorry i like how this turned out

Rating: g

AU: theater au! they’re in a production of falsettos, it’s dope

  “Okay, start again. Dave, for the love of God, try to look less gentlemanly, and more like you want to just eat him.”

  Davey frowned at Jack. “That doesn’t help me very much,” he noted dryly.

  Sitting at the table, the chess board between Davey and Race, Davey felt inexplicably tired. They’d been trying to get this scene down for the better part of an hour, never even getting through the entire Chess Game song before Jack was getting on their asses, saying that they weren’t doing something right.

  He had decided that Davey was too cold. He thought that his gaze was leering instead of smoldering. Forget the fact that Act I Marvin is mostly a leering asshole, Davey isn’t selling the passion enough!

  “Let’s just try it,” Jack said. “Here we go. Go ahead, boys.”

  “From where?” Race asked. His hands were folded together and stuck between his thighs, looking ready to work, to learn. God, how was he not tired of this scene by now?

  Jack hummed, making a little face. He shot a look to Elmer, who was at the grand piano at the edge of the stage. They had a small, silent conversation before Jack turned back to Davey and Race. “Your move the pawn,” he said finally.

  Race nodded firmly, and sat up just a little bit straighter, looking proud of himself. Davey leaned his elbows onto his knees and put his steepled hands up to his mouth, looking like he was contemplating particularly hard about the chess pieces in front of him.

  “Move the pawn,” Race sang, prodding Davey along with a little lift of his brow. All teasing and fleeting expressions. Davey didn’t budge, so Race moved to mirror his pose, leaning on his knees. He pointed to Davey’s immaculate line of chess pieces with his index finger. His finger poked in his direction with every word he sang. “Move the pawn.”

  Davey sighed, flicked an unimpressed glance to Race, but he didn’t move.

  “Take my hand.” Davey softened his eyes and took Race’s offered hand, his fingers trailing over Race’s palm. Race flipped Davey’s palm in his hand and put it over one of the pawns, sliding it forward two spaces. “Play the game.”

  Davey took barely a pause, flipping his hand to hold Race’s again. He leaned in even more, his eyes on Race’s mouth, tracing down the slope of his neck. “God, you’re pretty,” he sang.

  Race rolled his eyes, pulling away. “More’s the pity-,” Davey looked like he withered as Race pulled away, crossing his legs and taking his hand from Davey’s. He crossed his arms across his chest, sizing Davey up “-since you need a man-,”

  “What?” Davey jolted up.

  “-who’s brainy.”

  Davey rolled his eyes and glared at Race. “Or witty,” he said. It was as if accusing Race of being anything but. “Move,” he commanded.

  Race looked back down at the board. “What should I do now?” They went through the lyrics effortlessly, Davey seeming more than a little peeved at Race and at how unable he was to grasp the concept of how chess worked. “Chess ain’t how your boyfriend thinks!” he snapped.

  “This game stinks.” Davey looked at Race plainly, letting him read between the lines as he wished.

  After a second, Race bit his lip and looked back to Davey. “Let me win?”

  Davey put up his hands. “Yes, sir.”

  “Please?” he batted his eyelashes, and Davey nodded.

  “Yes,” he sighed.

  Race’s grin was unreal. “Thanks!” He began shifting the pieces on the board, and Davey tensed, opposing. “Whizzer wins!” Race declared, grinning with a childlike excitement. He picked up Davey’s king, waving it in front of his nose. “Whizzer wins! Checkmate.”

  The two of them twisted in their seats until they faced the audience. “Life’s a sham and every move is wrong.” Davey didn’t need to spare Race a glance to tell that he was still smiling, still high off of his cheated win. Davey dug his fingers into the knee of his jeans and kept his eyes straight ahead. They sang the last line together before Davey stood up. He bit the inside of his cheek and did his best to look pissed off as he walked away from their table, and away from Race.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Race called after him. Davey could just see him gaping.

  He reached the end of the stage and and turned around. He watched Race play with the black king, twisting it in his fingers before slamming it down on Davey’s side of the board. He sighed in an exaggerated motion, his shoulders slumping. “Marvin!” he yelled to the ceiling.

  Davey took a breath and shook out his shoulders before marching back on stage. He didn’t have the physical suitcase with him, but he mimed putting it down anyhow. Race looked between Davey and the invisible suitcase, understanding and hurt showing on his face.

  And then Jack Kelly bursted their little bubble, getting out of his seat so he could climb the steps onto the stage. “I think we’re going to stop there today,” he said.

  Davey tried not to wither, but he wasn’t too sure how he did. He moved to sit on the back edge of Race’s seat. Race twisted around in the little space given and grinned at Davey.

  “I thought we did a lot better,” he said quietly between them. “You didn’t look like you wanted to eat me, but I could actually believe that you wanted to kiss me that time.”

  “Yeah,” Davey murmured. “Honestly, no offense-.”

  Race patted his knee. “I get it. It’s not me, it’s you. Literally. Your aro-ace ass hurts me deeply, Davey.”

  Davey snorted. “You’ll recover,” he told him flatly.

  Jack pulled his cardigan closer around him and consulted his clipboard. He was really fitting the Theater Director Aesthetic, Davey thought. The skinny jeans and glasses instead of contacts were fine, but the cardigan and the clipboard-easily-swapped-for-an-iPad really cemented the look.

  “So, Dave, I want you to come in just a little bit earlier when he yells ‘Marvin,’ okay? Maybe already be walking out by the time he says it. It just drags on a bit long and I’m not about it.” Jack scribbled something on his paper and hummed. Davey made a mental note, nodding to himself.

  “Marvin,” Race said quietly, amping up the whiny tone in his voice before smirking sideways at Davey, who snorted in amusement and knocked his shoulder with Race’s.

  “Davey,” Jack went on, “I liked it better this time around. It’s starting to get the same energy as Thrill Of First Love. Good job. Keep at it, alright?” Davey bobbed his head. “There were a little rough patches in the music, too. Race, you’re going flat at times. Please, for the love of God, be practicing those parts. Meet Elmer and I after and we’ll go through them.”

  “Got it,” Race said.

  “Davey, I liked your high notes.” Jack kissed the tips of his fingers, reminding Davey of Spot’s Italian grandmother. “Good shit, my friend. It’s like when JoJo goes high on-,” he sucked in a quick breath, straightening his shoulders, “-and still the bastard divorced me!” Jack’s face contorted and his pinched together fingers twisted in the air. His voice was almost a screech, and he wasn’t on pitch, but Davey knew what he meant. Race stifled a laugh into the top of his hand. “You know? It’s Good, I want to cry and bottle that sound up to give to my mother-in-law for Christmas.”

  Davey laughed. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Jack grinned at him. “And I think that’s it. Y’all pack up and head home.” He looked to the front row behind him to the five others in the cast. He gave them all pointed glares. “Take care of yourself, you heathens. Get some sleep and work on the notes I gave you.”

  Davey heaved himself up from his chair and exhaled deeply. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Race.” He smiled at the man, who grinned back.

  “See you later, man. I’m off for consultation.” His eyes widened in mock horror as he stood up and began to walk away.

  Davey snorted. “Good luck!” he called after him. Davey was quick to gather his things, and he met his little brother Les out in the aisles of seats. “Was it convincing?” he asked Les after they told everyone their goodbyes and began to leave the theater.

  Les paused for a second, thinking. He nodded, glancing at Davey. “It was better,” he said finally. “Needs work.”

  Davey laughed and ruffled his brother’s hair. “Come on. I’ll take you to that sushi place you like.”

  Davey was graced with a larger-than-life smile and an excited pair of brown eyes.

[urwarriorangel]

just friends (stiles stilinski au ft derek hale)

National Suicide Hotline (USA): 1-800-784-8433

Hotline Masterpost

I love you all. I’m sorry times are tough, and I hope you see clear skies and rainbows from here on out. I hope you see a beautiful snow storm and a nice cozy thunderstorm with a cup of hot tea in hand.

Plot: Feelings don’t come in to play until you realize that what could’ve been is being threatened by what is.

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader, Derek Hale x Reader

Warnings: attempted suicide (graphic and emotional), language, protective!Stiles

A/N: sorry about the drought, the lack of writing! this is an old piece that is redone to fit Teen Wolf Characters. Stiles is a jock in this, Derek is a tatted punk turned jock, and Scott McCall is the angel that he’s always been. I really hope this isn’t too bad. I love y’all and I”m sorry I have writer’s block. Let me know what you think! XOXOX (no gifs are mine!!!)

Damn it! I knew this would happen. It's your best friend's first college football game and you’re already running late. You promised him you’d be there early, but noooo! You had to take a nap and snooze your damn alarm. Screw it. You brush on some mascara and toss on some skinny jeans with your school sweater before running down, phone in hand. Thankfully, your dorm was a five minute walk from the football stadium.

You made it to the field just as the choir finished performing the national anthem. Stiles was looking around before his eyes finally landed on you and he heaved a sigh of relief. You smile widely and wave at him as the teams make their way onto the field. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Stiles’ girlfriend Leslie holding hands with another player. You shake your head and brush the negative thoughts out of your head, thinking that maybe that’s her brother or really good friend. Stiles and Lydia have been together for a few years; she wouldn't cheat on him. You shrug and focus your attention on the game.

As part of your ritual, you send Stiles a good luck text and tell him you love him. This has happened in someway shape or form for about the last ten years before every game of his. You’ve been friends with the dork since you were five and he was six. He was a few months older than you and teased you about it every chance he got. You lived right next door to each other all throughout middle- and high school. Stiles was always the popular bad-boy jock that all the girls drooled over, and you were his nerdy, semi-popular semi-depressed, counterpart. You two managed to remain friends through the years & prove to everyone that brunettes actually have more fun. And now, here he was, paving his way to greatness in his first college football game of his career. You couldn’t be prouder of him.

A couple years ago, Stiles was going through a rough patch. It was your sophomore year and his parents were going through a divorce. You helped him through it and he managed to pull himself out. Although he claimed that Leslie was his light at the end of the tunnel, I think he was doing perfectly fine himself.

A loud whistle brings you back to the present just as your team scores a touchdown! Stiles is the quarterback and he tossed the ball straight to the wide receiver who ran to the end of the field and scored your team six points. The crowd’s gone wild, you’re jumping up and screaming for Stiles as the group of guys next to you pull up their shirts and reveal “NOTRE DAME” spelled out on their stomachs. Derek Hale, the dreamy receiver who scored a touchdown, does a little dance and makes the crowd cheer even louder.

The game went on and at the end of the fourth quarter, you were neck-to-neck. Notre Dame was up by three points and your enemy aka the University of Indiana had the possession. There were 12 seconds left and Indy was 10 meters away from a touchdown. Everyone was at the edge of their seats as the seconds ticked by and Indy's quarterback let the ball fly. You held your breath as one of their players seemed set to grab it, but you were all joyously taken by surprise when your cornerback intercepted the ball as the clock ran out. Everyone got on their feet and screamed in both shock and happiness. You laugh and make your way down the bleachers to see Stiles, only to be stopped as you reach the field. You look up and are met with a familiar face smirking down at you.

You smile back up at Derek. He looked oddly familiar. Sure, you saw him around campus a few times as he was a star football player, but you had never been so close to him. Holy hell, were you missing out.

"Hey there!" He smirks at your obvious staring as he yells over the crowd's cheering. "Did you enjoy the game?"

"Hey, Derek," you blush and look down slightly, almost peering over his shoulder to look for Stiles before looking back up at him. "I very much did enjoy the game. That was a great catch, by the way! Indy didn't see you coming!"

"Thank you." Now it was his turn to blush. "I didn't know a beautiful girl such as yourself followed our games this closely."

"Oh, I’m Y/N,” you smile and hold your hand out for him to shake, which he quickly accepts. “I won’t miss any regular season games. My best friend is on the team, Stiles?"

"So you're the best friend he asked us to stay away from! Is he keeping you for himself, or?" He looks at you, questioningly as his eyes widen in realization.

"No, he's dating Leslie," you chuckle and smile, removing your hand from Derek’s. "He's just super over protective of me. Speaking of the rascal, where is he? I ran here for him!"

"He probably went to the locker room with Leslie to get some post-game action." Derek laughs and shakes his head as you gag.

"I don't need that image. I see it enough already!" You laugh and nudge him as the player who caught the interception walks over and eyes you up and down.

"What do we have here?" He winks at you and you shake your head.

"Just because you helped us win our first game doesn't mean that you get a pass with that comment." You give him a teasing glare as he raises an eyebrow. "No passes, but that was a super cool catch, a life-saving one actually."

He blushes and smiles widely, dimples popping out in both cheeks. "I'm Scott. Scott McCall."

And before you’re able to respond, Stiles comes out from behind them and engulfs you in a hug.

"STILES OH MY GOD!!!" You squeal as he laughs and spins you around, obviously moving you away from his two teammates.

"Did you see my throw?!" Stiles puts you down and becomes really passionate as he speaks about the one thing he loves the most: football. "I didn't think I would make the pass, but then I remembered your text and I just threw the ball and BAM, Hale with the touchdown!"

"I did see your throw! It was a beautifully executed throw with a solid catch by Derek," by this time, Derek & Scott have made their way over to you and they're both blushing wildly.

"Bro, why didn't you tell us your best friend was so beautiful? And into sports?!" Scott punched Stiles lightly in the shoulder as he slightly tenses, trying to keep his cool composure as his teammates drool over his best friend..

"Because you buffoons would react exactly like this." Stiles forces out a chuckle and smiles at his friends.

As he and Scott continued their talk, Derek walks over and looks at you, just staring before something clicked both in his head and in yours. You knew he looked familiar! Derek opens his mouth to say something, but you grab Stiles before he has a chance to.

"Alright, goodbye boys. Stiles will see you in practice and I will be at your next game." You smile at both of them and leave with your best friend, trying your best not to look back.

Crap that was too close.

You pull Stiles away from Derek and Scott, leaving him slightly confused but still very happy. Once you reach the university campus, you slow down and look up at your best friends cute smile.

"I'm proud of you, Stiles," you smile and wrap your arms around him as you walk through campus.

"Thank you, Y/N." He smiles and kisses your forehead. “I’m sorry for leaving you to deal with the knuckleheads after the game.”

"It’s okay. I heard you and Leslie got in some quick action after the game," you chuckle and wiggle your eyebrows at him as you near his dorm.

"We got in some quick but very good action in after the game," Stiles smirks, swiping his ID and letting you into the building. You two walk past the RA and into the elevator; Stiles lived on the third floor but you were feeling lazy. "You're staying over tonight, right?"

"Yes, sir. Unless you want to kick me out to get some more action?"

"No, I think I could get some action in with you." Stiles playfully slams your back against the elevator wall and stands over you as you look up at him, rolling your eyes and trying your hardest not to blush.

"Please, babe. That’s not possible,” you pull away just as the elevator dings and the doors open, dragging him out by his hand. "Let's go to your room so we can sleep. I have an early class tomorrow."

You walk into Stiles’ dorm, using your spare key to open the door and trying to push down any unwarranted feelings for the doofus. You close his door and head to his bedroom to look for any clothes you may have left over previous times. You frown when you don't see anything of yours around.

"Stiles!" I stand in the middle of his bedroom with my arms crossed, more from confusion than anything.

"Yes?!" He runs in and cups your face, checking for any injuries. "What happened? Did you hurt yourself? Is something wrong?"

"No! No, I'm okay!” "I'm sorry. I just got scared,” he smiles and wraps his arms around you, oddly worried.

“I’m fine, I promise. Now, come on. Find me a shirt because I can't find any of mine." He laughs and kisses your head, pulling away .

"That's because I'm doing laundry. Actually, my roommate is. Hale’s doing laundry." Stiles reaches into a drawer and pulls out an oversized t-shirt. "Here you go."

"Wait... Derek is doing your laundry?! I had underwear here!" You blush and groan, covering your face as Stiles chuckles.

"Don't worry, he won't do anything. I've warned them all!"

"I think you want me to die alone." You pout and head to the bathroom to change, Stiles’ laughter ringing through his room.

You change and step back into the bedroom, only to find him sound asleep and in his boxers. You turn off the lights and lay next to Stiles. He cuddles close and moments later, you begin to drift off.

Flashback in a Dream

You graduated last week, top of the world and happy as can be. Of course, your happiness doesn't seem to last. It was like you had everything but wanted nothing. You were so tired of yourself, of all the burdens you carried around. You couldn't even wear your favorite dress to graduation because your stupid arms and legs were covered in scars. You hated yourself. You wanted this shit life to end. And what better place to end it than at the lighthouse? It was around seven in the evening, a nice chilly summer night. You told your parents You’d go for a quick walk and be back. They both smiled and asked you to get home quickly, little did they know you wouldn't make it back at all. You had a bottle of wine in your bag and a razor in your pocket. You chuckled sadly and ran the razor across your arms and legs and stomach, each cut an angry thought. You looked at your phone to see Stiles calling you for the fifteenth time. You shook your head and let the phone ring. You loved him, and that’s why you couldn’t--wouldn't hurt him. He couldn't know about this.

"Hello?" You heard a voice behind you and turned around. He was tall, and he was so so handsome. He had tattoos up and down his arms and across his bare chest, his green eyes were narrowed as he took in your crumpled appearance.

You quickly (drunkenly) hid your hands as he walked closer, feeling yourself dim out slowly. "What's up?"

"Why are you here by yourself? And why are you hiding your hands?" He reached back to grab your arms and you let out a soft yelp.

"Ow!" You whimper and pull your hands out, slurring your words as your emotions get the best of you. "I'm fucking depressed. I'm suicidal. I hate myself. Is that what you wanted to hear?!"

He quickly shakes his head no as you black out.

You keep drifting in and out of a daze for what seems like days before you finally wake up. Your eyes begin to adjust to the dim lighting and you see someone asleep with their head on the side of the bed. You softly nudge the person and he looks up, alarmed. It was the guy from the other night. Which meant... you weren’t dead.

"D-did you save me?" You whisper, your voice hoarse from the lack of water in your system. He notices and hands you water before answering.

"I- I just brought you back here. I didn't know if you'd make it, but--oh my god. OH MY GOD." He exclaimed, looking at you as though he'd just realized that you’re awake. "You're alive!" He laughed and leaned down to pay a celebratory kiss against my forehead.

"Why did you save me?" You whisper the dreaded question, managing to stop his celebrations as he looked at you, both confused and angry.

"Did you expect me to let you die?! No. Hell no,” He shook his head, barely able to look you in the eye. “You deserve a second chance. This is it. Life is fucking hard, and believe me I know it. I'm upset when I have no right to be. I'm given everything and I want nothing, but I will not die. I will not let my depression beat me. And I sure as hell won't let it beat you, Y/N." He looked at you, almost reiterating your own speech to you as you stared at him in awe. "I checked your ID, that's how I know your name."

You nod slowly and begin to sit up. "T-thank you..?"

"Derek. My name is Derek." He smiled at you as he realized that his words registered.

"As you know, my name is Y/N," you held out your hand and he shook it. "Thank you for saving my life."

"Not a problem. I don't want you to be like this anymore. Please promise me. No more."

"No more." You smiled at him, tears brimming in your eyes as he held out a pinky and you hook yours with his. You lean forward and press a shy kiss against his lips. "No more."

Dream Ends

You jolt awake and pant heavily, double and triple checking your arms for any cuts, relieved when you find none there. It's been three months and there are no more cuts. Three months since you’d last seen Derek. Three months since you opened up to Stiles. You promised Stiles, but you also promised Derek. Derek who spent one night with you and then flew back home. Derek who you didn't recognize until today. Stiles stirs in his sleep and looked up at you, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Everything alright?" he mutters sleepily and looks up at you.

"Yes, babe. We are all good. Back to bed." You smile as he holds his arms out to you and you gladly snuggle against your best friend, falling asleep in no time.