I’m falling for him, hard,” she admits, “and I’m terrified.”

“This is different than anything I’ve ever felt before. I’ve been in love, but this is something else entirely.”

She sighs.

“He makes my heart hurt, in a good way. It’s like it’s so full it’s about to burst. He gives me much more than butterflies. He makes eye contact with me and I feel like I’ve been set on fire. I find myself looking for him everywhere.”

“I’m scared out of my mind. But honestly, I don’t think that it’s love if it doesn’t scare you.”

—  I’m falling for him, hard.
Called It

A YouTuber AU SnowBaz fanfic for the Carry On Countdown


Simon Snow’s first YouTube video is one of my favourites.  It’s as painfully awkward as any other YouTuber’s first video.  He sits up too straight in his chair, he smiles and laughs too mechanically, and the film quality itself is poor, with half of his words lost to shoddy editing. Yet despite all this, it’s adorable.

           And of course, it’s the origin of the biggest OTP on YouTube, SnowBaz.

           “Hi guys,” Simon waves at the camera, his hand going all pixelated at the movement.  “Welcome to the first video on my channel!”  He’s inserted a sound effect of people cheering.  I have to laugh.  It’s so damn cringe-worthy.

           He goes on for a few moments, trying to make jokes and jump-cuts that work, when finally, it’s everyone’s favourite part.

           “What are you doing, Snow?” comes a voice from off-camera.  My heart turns to mush.


           Simon’s new flatmate, or at least he was new at this point.

           “Making my first YouTube video,” Simon grins up at someone behind the camera.  “Come say hi!”

           “-bleep- no.”

           Even the censor sounds old, like it was stolen from the year 2007.

           Simon looks a bit panicked, like he’s realizing that he’ll have to edit out the swear word.  A door slams somewhere out of the shot.

           “That’s my new flatmate,” he tells us.  “His name is Baz.  He’s kind of a prat.”

           “Just you wait,” I whisper at my computer screen. “Just you wait.”


           Simon and Baz do not get along.  At all.

           That much is clear from the first video, but it become increasingly obvious as Simon posts more frequently.  He often films in the living room, which drives Baz insane.

           “Why don’t you film in your own room?” he says, audibly annoyed.

           “The lighting in there is terrible,” Simon protests.

           “Well, I’d like to be able to walk around my own flat, if you don’t mind.”

           “Go ahead, no one’s stopping you,” Simon shrugs. “Besides, the viewers keep saying they want to see you.”

           “Well, who wouldn’t?”

           Good old Baz.  Sarcastic and full of himself.  They don’t appear to realize it, but the two of them balance each other out perfectly.

           Little by little, Baz begins to make his mark on Simon’s channel.  At first we only hear him from off-screen, offering his two bits about nearly everything Simon has to say.  Many of his comments are admittedly quite mean and uncalled for, but Simon never edits them out.  Baz is the invisible heckler.  Viewers begin to latch onto this weird relationship of apparent hatred and, as YouTube viewers are wont to do, turn it into a new ship.  “SnowBaz” they call it, and before long the comment sections on all of Simon’s videos are full of things like “I ship it” and “OTP”.

           I try not to fall victim to this shipping trend myself.  It feels insensitive to me, shipping real live people that I’ve never even met like they’re objects of sorts.  But even I can’t deny that the two of them would be cute together.  Provided they stop hating each other.

           Then Baz appears onscreen for the first time.

           He’s on the couch in the background, facing away from the camera.  All we can see is long black hair.  He only moves when he’s shouting ridicule at Simon’s words.  Once he turns his head further to make himself heard, and we catch a glimpse of the light brown skin of his face.  This time the comments are all “is that Baz?” and “OMG BAZ”.

           After that he starts to appear more often. Sometimes he’s facing the screen, looking down at his phone or a book.  He’s tall, and his hair reaches his shoulders.  The expression on his face goes between concentration and a sneer, that latter of which he reserves for his heckling.  It doesn’t take long for people to start commenting on how attractive he is.  Still Simon leaves all the footage of Baz in his videos, not hiding a single rude comment from his viewers.

           Once, Simon tries to get Baz to join him for a “meet my flatmate” video.  Baz responds simply by flipping Simon off in the background, which Simon has to pixel out. He’s gotten better at editing at this point.

           Sometimes Simon posts daily vlogs on days when he does things that he considers exciting.  The things that Simon finds exciting are too cute for words.  They tend to be little events like going to a coffee shop, things that are almost mundane but for some reason they excite him. He does this thing where he dances when he’s excited.  He’ll bob his head cheerfully as he walks, glad to just be out.  He’s gone to the grocery store with Baz a few times in his vlogs.  Those videos are some of the best ones.  They bicker about everything from which kind of milk to get to who gets to carry the baskets.  Sometimes we can see Baz’s mouth quirk like he’s trying not to laugh, like all this bickering is just a game for him.  Of course, this sends the SnowBaz shippers into a frenzy, the idea that maybe, just maybe, Baz doesn’t hate Simon as much as he lets on.

           But there’s one video on Simon’s channel that is the absolute bread of life for anyone who ships the two of them.  Simon is doing a Q&A, and as usual Baz is sitting and reading in the background.

           “This question is from Twitter,” Simon says, reading off of his phone.  “They ask ‘Are you in love with anyone right now?’”

           And if you look closely, you can see Baz go rigid.

           “Well,” Simon leans in close to the camera, “I have been messaging with someone quite a lot.  I don’t know who the person is, but we’ve gotten really close and I’m starting to think -”

           “Could you keep it down, Snow,” Baz pipes up, his voice tight.  “I’m trying to read over here.”

           Simon doesn’t speak of it any further, but Baz sneaks glances at the back of Simon’s head more than once before the video is over. I don’t know how Simon could have not noticed it.  Certainly every single one of his viewers did, which is to say over a million people. Perhaps love is completely daft.


           When I arrive home from work on a particularly rainy day in October, I am delighted to open my computer and find that Simon is in the middle of a livestream.  Comments flow constantly from the sidebar and I settle in to join the party.  He’s in a different room this time, one with a neatly made bed on which he sits, and I gather that it’s his room.  It looks so clean, but I wonder if there’s a disaster hiding behind the camera.

           Simon leans towards us like he’s trying to read all of the comments and questions as they flood in.  He gets a lot of I love you’s and he grins in response, trying to return as many of them as possible.

           “I’ve got to go soon,” he tells us and I sigh in disappointment, “but I’ll answer a few more questions first.”  He’s quiet for a minute as all the viewers catch up with the stream.  “Here’s one: ‘Did you find out who was messaging you so much?’”  He pauses before answering.  “Funny you should ask, because yes, I did, and that’s a perfect segway into what I wanted to talk about.”  He shifts on his bed.  “I have a bit of an announcement -”

           His door opens behind him, and Baz in all his glory appears in it.

           Comments start flying in of “BAZ” and “OMG”

           “What are you doing?” Baz asks without a hint of a sneer in his voice.

           “Just filming a live show,” Simon tells him. He seems… nervous?

           “A live show, eh?”  Baz strolls over and – wonder of wonders – sits down on the bed next to Simon.  We’ve never seen him this close to the camera, and his eyes are this lovely mix of gray and green.

           We’ve also never seen him this close to Simon before.

           My heart kicks up a notch.  I’ve fallen down the slippery slope and now there’s no denying that I ship it completely.  I grab a pillow to hold to my chest and go into fangirl-mode, overanalysing every inch of their proximity.  With a click I maximize the screen, blocking the other comments from my view.  I want to see every pixel of this.

           “I was just going to make that little announcement,” Simon says, staring at his hands in his lap.

           “Ah,” Baz nods, apparently understanding.  “Go on, then.  Carry on, Simon.”

           Did he –

           Did he just call him Simon?

           He never calls him Simon!

           “I can’t do it if you’re here!” Simon protests.

           Baz gives a shrug.  “Then I’ll tell them.”

           He takes Simon by the collar and kisses him.  

           I scream into my pillow.

           Simon and Baz are kissing, right now, in front of millions of people.

           I can practically hear the collective aneurism that the fangirls are currently having.

           They’re still kissing, and Simon is grinning against Baz’s mouth.  It’s the most genuine smile he’s ever graced the internet with, and it’s not even for us.

           I’m tearing up, I’m so happy for them.

           Baz lets Simon go and turns to smirk at the camera. “That one’s for all you SnowBaz shippers out there.  Don’t think we don’t know.”  He winks. He fucking winks.

           And then he leaves.  

           Simon turns back to the camera, his cheeks red and his lips puffy.  He grins sheepishly.

           “Um, yeah,” he stammers, “that’s what I was gonna tell you about.”

           I tap the comment box.

           pennyforyourthoughts: Called it.

prince-hanamakin  asked:

RFA's reactions towards MC suddenly run their hands under their s/o's shirt to give surprise tickles on the stomach. (whatever MC's intention is, this can be SFW or NSFW hahah)

A/N: Slight NSFW warning! No spoilers!


  • Poor baby is so jumpy all the time.
  • You decide to make your surprise attack when he’s half-way asleep.
  • Just when he’s about to doze off, your cold hands go under his shirt, causing him to scream and jump off the bed.
  • His scream scared even you. SO SHRILL.
  • Yoosungie scooted away, tears in his eyes. Little Yoosung whimpers are enough to break Jumin Han’s heart.
  • “Why would you do that? ;___;”’
  • You have to calm down your little pupper by spooning him. 
  • His back is facing you because he doesn’t trust you for the rest of the night. He’s pouty. 
  • Definitely doesn’t like being tickled. It’s almost painful for him. 
  • Unfortunately for him, you think it’s funny when he reacts like that. 
  • It’s a good training tool to get him to study/do chores. 

More under the cut!  ↓ ↓ ↓

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That’s Christmas To Me: PART ONE!

for the past four years, you had been on the road of recovery from a broken heart. On December 4th, four years ago - James Buchanan Barnes had broken your heart. Now it was December third, you find yourself in a cab on your way to a secluded romantic location - for none other than Steve and Natasha’s wedding. Pleading to stay through the holidays, you were packed for any occasion - but not for Bucky Barnes. Throughout the motions of being the Maid of Honor - you do your best to ignore the fact that the very same man who broke your heart, was the best man. Will you find a chance at love again? or crumble under the pressure of lost love?

Notes: Slight Cursing, Mentions of Smut.

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Space Doesn’t Burn Red

2 parts, 2700 words total

Part I. Taako thinks about how much he loves Kravitz

Part II. Taako tries his damnedest to parley this information to Kravitz

Part I.

“I love you.” The words taste foreign and almost dry on his tongue, and he’s thankful he’s speaking them in practice to his reflection in a mirror and not to his actual boyfriend. “I’m in love with you,” he tries once again with feeling and comes off a little less ham-fisted but no more confident than before. “Kravitz, I think I love you.” Still blunt. Still hard. Still unnatural.

How do people do this? How did Merle do it – how did Magnus do it? How did Carey do it? It’s got to be easier than this, right?

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anonymous asked:

RFA (+V and Saeran) reacting to holding their newborn child(ren) for the first time? (Seven has twins and V *not blind* has triplets)

A/N: This one made my clutch my heart. Dang, this really just pokes at the feels haha. THE RFA DESERVES THIS PUREST FORM OF HAPPINESS. Name reveal/secret ending spoiler warning!


  • This is the day he has been preparing for since the two of you got married.
  • He’s read the books, watched all the videos, and listened to a thousand of his mother’s lectures.
  • However, he was no where near prepared for this moment.
  • Yoosung didn’t anticipate how fragile and tiny the baby would be.
  • When the nurse handed your son to him, he was terrified.
  • “MC…He’s so tiny…I…I don’t want to hurt him…”
  • He walked incredibly slow, sitting down on a chair…just staring.
  • Amazed, spellbound, incredulous—no word could describe the feeling.
  • He was speechless.
  • The moment your son opened his little eyelids, Yoosung had to choke back a sob.
  • He had his father’s purple eyes.
  • It finally hit him that he was now a father.
  • “My son…my baby…my little boy…”

More under the cut!  ↓ ↓ ↓ 

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25 Days of Christmas: Snow [Day Three]

In the twenty five days leading up to Christmas, Newt Scamander and the reader stumble their way into admitting their love.

Day Two

Apologies for the later posting but weekends mean work unfortunately. Also, just to let you all know that I won’t be tagging any new people after today, sorry!

Newt had enchanted several habitats in his case for different creatures that had different needs. He had gathered a rather magnificent collection of creatures on his travels and all of them were from different countries, meaning that they needed different conditions to survive and thrive. He had been through so many different types of weather and lived through every extreme that was possible and sometimes he forgot that not everyone had.

As a result of this, he was considerably surprised when he saw Y/N’s elation at the first fall of snow.

It was the beginning of December and it was quite unusual for snow to be falling already, but it had been uncommonly cold and Newt had a suspicion that the snow would not stick to the floor and create the perfect picture of a winter wonderland that many would be hoping for. However, that did not stop him from letting his friend pull him outside to get a closer look.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen snow.” She said wistfully, tossing her hair out of her eyes as it fell forward to cover her view of the whiteness before her. Newt didn’t watch the snow falling before them as he could see that simply by going down the stairs and into his case but he did not voice this and instead watched her.

“Did it not snow last year?” Newt asked. He had not been home for last year’s Christmas, a fact that had saddened him immensely when he realised that he would not be able to give Y/N the gifts he had gotten her: a souvenir from each country he had visited that reminded him of her. Looking back on it, however, it was probably for the best as he would not have been able to give it her without becoming a stuttering, blushing fool or maybe even admitting the intense love he felt for the woman who was supposed to only be a friend.

“It did but it’s not the same when you don’t have your best friend with you to abuse with snowballs.” A cheeky smile was on her face and Newt tilted his head back with his own grin as memories of snowball fights flashed through his mind back from their school days.

“Ah, yes, but if I remember rightly it was you that was getting abused.” He returned and she simply rolled her eyes and looked away from him.

“Your memory must be going then.” Was all she said in reply and Newt couldn’t stop the burst of laughter that escaped him. Y/N didn’t say anything but he could see the small smirk on her face and couldn’t resist the nudge he gave her. Though the push was slight, it didn’t stop her from landing in the direct path of the snow.

“Newt!” She screamed, although the laughter she was emitting could not be completely hidden. She quickly ran back to Newt’s side and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Merlin, it’s cold.”

“Y-You can have my jacket.” He offered and moved to pull it from his shoulders when she shook her head and instead stopped closer to him.

“No, then you’ll be cold. You’ll have to share your heat with me.” She said and wrapped her arms around his waist, her hands moving to touch his back underneath his jacket and setting his whole body aflame at her touch despite the coldness of her hands. Newt’s hands faltered in the air behind her for a second, unsure as to where exactly he should place his hands and he eventually settled for the safety of her back. His chin reflexively rested on the top of her head, Y/N’s soft hair acting as a cushion. “Sharing’s caring, after all.” She giggled and he didn’t bother to hide his smile.

“It’s a good job I care for you a great deal then.” He told her quietly, unsure if she would actually hear him or not but hoping that she would and that she would understand the deeper meaning behind what he said without him having to put it into words.

“You better, I don’t just freeze with anyone, Newton.” She said and Newt’s eyes closed, enjoying the content that he felt by having her in his arms and the happiness that she had unknowingly given him with her words. “Should we invite Tina, Queenie and Jacob so they can enjoy proper English snow?”

“Not just yet.” He told her and she didn’t say anything else. Newt couldn’t feel guilty for his selfishness to keep it just him and Y/N for a few more moments. He was too happy to have her so close to him and he didn’t want anything to ruin it as he feared it had been ruined only days ago after the mistletoe fiasco. He had wanted to confront you and admit all of his long kept feeling for you but your words of the kiss not meaning anything to you had broken his heart and leaven him without any feeling whatsoever. When he had finally gained movement, it had been to receive a sharp kick from an irate Queenie.

“You’ll never get the girl if you carry on like this, honey.” She had said.

With you in his arms and snow falling around you, he felt like maybe he hadn’t lost his chance with you after all

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The lovely @loosedart sent me the original post from @snowystater and i fic’d it! Sorry not to reblog the original post but the formatting was weird as it’s not a text post. Enjoy!

“It’s been an hour. I want to see my husband,” Jack announced to the mostly empty rink. When no one seemed to take him seriously he continued, “w3eOkay but really…” Jack frowned, “He’s like less than a mile away. Why can’t he be here?”

“Brahski! Brosef! Jackers!” Shitty drunkenly skated over, nearly crashing as he attempted to stop next to Jack, “We went through this already. It’s your bachelor party! You gotta celebrate with your friends!”

Jack’s frown deepened and the lines it created pulled his whole face down.

“Eric is my friend. Also, my friends are his friends. And I’m skating! He’d love to skate.”

The frown turned into a pout and Jack tried changing tactics, “It’s just like with all the wedding planning and my away games and his work and stuff I don’t even seen him ever. So wouldn’t it be great if I could see him AND we could hang out with our closest friends? That’d be swawesome. The swawesomest.”

Tater skated up next with Ransom hot on his heels.


“Yeah man,” echoed Ransom, “It’s skating time!”

“I wanna see Bits!” Jack had firmly moved into whining territory and he didn’t even care.

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The Art of Relaxation.

Lafayette stood at the entrance to Alexander’s tent, watching the other man as he scribbled something on a piece of slightly crumpled parchment. The sun was dipping low beneath the trees and tent tops of Valley Forge. The few birds that remained over the winter were tweeting, their songs echoing through the woodland. Apart from them and the distant shouts of men, the only other thing Lafayette could hear were the sounds of Alexander’s quill as it scratched across the page. He shifted slightly from foot to foot, anxiously fiddling with some hair that had escaped his ponytail.

“Alexander? Mon ami?” He said, keeping his voice hushed so as not to startle his friend. He walked into the cluttered tent slowly as though he were approaching a frightened animal.

“Lafayette, how can I help?” Alexander didn’t look up from the thing he was writing.

“I had my uniform refitted and repaired today, though I think there may be a hem loose at the back. I tired looking at it in a mirror but I can’t find it, would you help?”

“Ah, I’m a little busy right now, perhaps Laurens could?” Alexander had not once looked over at Lafayette, he felt his stomach drop with disappointment.

“John is riding to Gates’ camp; he will not return till tomorrow. Had you not noticed?” Disappointment turned into concern as Lafayette took in his friend’s state properly.

“What do you mean? John doesn’t leave until tomorrow.”

“Alexander, mon ami, when was the last time you left your tent?”

“The eighteenth, I went to deliver The General some letters. Laf, I’m sorry but I really do have to get these done.” Alexander waved his hand to try and shoo Lafayette out of the tent.

“Alexander, it’s the twentieth today, you’ve not left your tent for two days. No wonder Washington asked me if you were ill. You must relax, the letters do not need to be done this instance-”

“No, Laf-”

“Non, laisse-moi prendre soin de toi.”

He took Alexander’s hand and turned him around, his hands moved to Alex’s shoulders; they rested there as though they had belonged there forever. He guided Alex to the small camp bed, taking off Alexander’s coat and waistcoat as they went. Lafayette took the tie out of Alex’s hair, letting the curls spring loose down his back.

“Lie down, rest; let me take care of you, Alexander.”

He stood back as Alex lay down on his front, his arms crossed under his head. His face was turned towards Lafayette, his eyes drifted closed; his lips were cracked open and his breathing slowed. Lafayette allowed his eyes to drift down the curved lines of Alexander’s body. Alex’s shirt hung loose around waist and shoulders, it dipped low at the back of his neck. The shirt had come untucked from his breeches, something Lafayette did nothing to combat. Instead he looked around the tent for candles, the sun having moved below the horizon and the night having moved in around them.

Lafayette stripped out of his coat and left it on John’s unused bed. Before he moved to Alex, he straddled the smaller man, and ran his hands over Alexander’s body. At last he could feel the hard lines and sinewy muscle under his fingers.

“Laf, you don’t-”

“Je souhaite, mon ami,” he said, leaning forward to whisper the words in Alexander’s ear.



He massaged the knotted muscles with deft fingers, feeling Alex’s muscles give way to relaxation. He could hear Alex relaxing, hear his breathing slow and deepen; every now and then, he could hear a sigh of contentment.

“Relax, Alexander,” he said, after he could feel the other tensing.

“No, Lafayette, you don’t understand- I can’t-”

“Alexander-” he didn’t finish before Alex turned and shoved him off.


“Alex, please,” Lafayette said, stumbling backwards, tears threatening to spill.

“Lafayette, it’s not right. I’m not- I can’t-”

“Let me show you. It’s alright, let me show you,” Lafayette said, bringing Alex towards him, tangling his fingers in the others hair.

Alex’s hand came to rest on his chest, the other on his hip. Lafayette leant down and brought their mouths together, lips meeting, warm; like coming home. Their noses brushed, and their breaths mingled together. They split, only when their lungs started to burn.

“Okay?” Lafayette asked.

“Bien,” Alex said, gasping slightly for breath. He looked up at Lafayette, his eyes searching his face; gleaming from the light of the candles.


Lafayette awoke to birdsong, and the sun creeping in through the gap in the tent flaps. He looked down to see Alexander curled under his chin.

“Alexander, I have to go, Washington will wonder where I’ve gone.”

“Stay, it is early yet,” Alexander mumbled.

“And I still need to wash and dress,” Lafayette chuckled.

“I s'pose,” Alexander said, moving to let him go.

The morning was chilly, so they got dressed hurriedly. They could hear the rest of the camp getting ready. After they dressed, Lafayette drew Alexander close to him, his hands low on Alex’s waist.

“Careful, Lafayette, wouldn’t want to ruin your new uniform,” Alexander smiled.

“So considerate,” Lafayette chuckled, before leaning down and kissing Alex.

A/N: so I wrote this because @halpdevon and @lozeyart made me trash for this ship. (The last few sentences are based of one of Ollie’s drawings). I hope this is ok… lemme know if you guys want me to delete it.

In Dreams 6

Chapter 1...Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5

Rating: Gen



The road disappears under his tires and he imagines that behind him, nothing exists anymore, as if the world is being devoured the second he passes.

The persistent throbbing in his head is only outpaced by the thrumming ache in his chest.

There is but one thing on his mind: her, her, always her.

He presses the gas a little harder as if he might be able to simply physically get ahead of the pain and let it sink into oblivion somewhere in the black void in his rearview mirror. The effort is in vain, of course, but at least he will get there that much faster.

He reaches blindly and manages to shake a couple Tylenol from the bottle with one hand. He throws them back like a shot of tequila and swallows them dry.

I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming…

Exhaustion hangs around the edges of everything like a fog. He’s been afraid to close his eyes, terrified of how he will watch her die this time. Sleep deprived, he’s driving with the windows down, depending on the frigid wind to help him stay alert. He blinks and sees her smiling. He blinks again and sees her laughing, an impish crinkle around her eyes. He blinks and suddenly feels weightless, like every bit of fear and anxiety is floating out the windows and freezing in the cold night air.

The roof of the car caves in with a garish crunch as the car rolls. He opens his eyes and realizes, much too late, that he must have fallen asleep. There is a cacophony of breaking glass and screaming metal all around him. The car barrel rolls again and again and comes to rest in a deep ditch. He wonders, as he dangles from his seat, if he will ever see her again. He can hear the wheels spinning and smell gasoline and antifreeze all around him. His head is swimming in a whirlpool of pain and confusion. He closes his eyes and sees her laughing, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. She looks so happy, like she’s lit from within. He smiles and lets the warmth of her wrap around him. She is the last thing on his mind as the nothingness catches up.

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anonymous asked:

Could you please write a Drabble either for the one where Lexa gets cold or the one where she needs to try and a lot of clothes for an Arcadian celebration?

Clarke shifts from foot to foot, lip caught between her teeth.

They’re both not saying what they’re clearly both thinking.

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[(For Mileven Week 2016 Day 6: December 3rd – Upside Down) An extremely fluffy AU oneshot in which the Bad Men never arrive at the school to interrupt Mike and Eleven’s sweet moment.]

“I’ve never been, but I know you’re not supposed to go with your sister.”

Okay, that had been a little hard to admit, and his stomach was still doing flip-flops because he’d actually asked her to the Snowball, but this was El. She wouldn’t care that he’d never been to a school dance in his life. She didn’t think he was a wastoid.

“No?” she asked, shaking her head, still looking confused.

He sighed. “I mean, you CAN, but it’d be really weird.” REALLY weird. El was the farthest thing from a sister he could think of. How was he even supposed to say that?

He went on, his words coming out sounding robotic and stilted. “You go to school dances with someone that, you know… someone that you… like.”

There. He’d said it. He felt like he just might throw up, but he’d said it. And then she smiled and all that confidence he thought he’d had just left. His heart started beating faster because, well, that happened every time she smiled.

But then she asked, “A friend?”

She asked so sweetly and he almost nodded because yeah, she WAS a friend, definitely, but she was so much more than just a friend! She was so… important.

She was so good and kind and amazing and sweet and –

“Not a friend, uh… uh…” Was that all he could say? “Uh”? He couldn’t even think straight. She was looking at him with her brown eyes and she still looked so confused which made sense because he wasn’t doing a very good job answering her question. He STILL hadn’t answered her question, but how was he supposed to tell her that she was the most wonderful and important person and that he cared about her more than anyone else in the world?

Was there even a word for that?

She was still looking at him, squinting, like she was trying to figure out what he was saying, but HE didn’t even know what he was saying so he didn’t blame her for being completely confused.

“Uh, someone like a…”

He sighed. This was ridiculous. Just say it, Mike!
Say what? He looked into her eyes, which was a huge mistake. They were big and brown and beautiful and really distracting. His mouth had gone dry and his mind went completely blank.

Except for one crazy thought.

No. No WAY. That was nuts! It was stupid. It would be so stupid. To… to kiss her. It was absolutely crazy!

… Wasn’t it?

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anonymous asked:

You suck at gym class and coach assigned me to be your partner, seriously dude, you can’t even kick a ball // Fugaku/Minato? :o

They’ve been at it for almost half an hour now, and at this point even Minato’s smile is starting to look a little strained.

“I don’t understand,” he says, the next best thing to plaintive as he pauses, eyeing the ball between them like it’s the enemy. “You’re an Uchiha.”

Fugaku grits his teeth. The only thing keeping him from throwing something at Minato’s head is the knowledge that it would probably hit Kushina behind him instead, and then Mikoto would very literally eviscerate him. “Not everyone in my family,” he bites out, “is a sports freak.”

“Ah, well, I don’t particularly think that—”

“What Pretty Boy’s trying to say,” Kushina butts in cheerfully as she heads for coach, “is that basic hand-eye coordination doesn’t make you a sports freak, Uchiha, it just makes you normal.”

Fugaku definitely should have let the ball hit her, Mikoto’s wrath be damned. Mikoto would be failing Chemistry without his help; surely that’s leverage enough to keep his skin intact.

“Just—throw the damn ball, Namikaze,” he snaps, folding his arms over his chest.

Minato hesitates for a long moment, then sighs. “This isn’t baseball,” he says. “We’re trying to kick it. And standing like that you’re never going to get anywhere.” Before Fugaku can bristle, he crosses the space between them and slips right behind Fugaku, putting his hands on Fugaku’s shoulders. Fugaku stiffens, and Minato huffs. “See? If you go for a kick like this, you’ll either miss the ball or fall over. Just relax. Uncross your arms and try to balance yourself. I’ve seen you carrying around that huge horn thing for orchestra, and you haven’t fallen and broken it yet, so you must have some sense of balance.”

“Horn thing—it’s a bassoon,” Fugaku splutters, entirely offended. “A woodwind, not a damn trumpet!”

“Right,” Minato says sheepishly. “That thing. Okay, arms down, then stand like this.”

There are hands on his hips. Hands on his hips and breath on the back of his neck and this is starting to look terrifyingly like some of Fugaku’s more explicit dreams about the football captain.

In desperation, he jerks free of Minato’s hold and aims a blind kick at the football. His foot connects, and the ball flies in a direction that is more assuredly not straight, pegging Coach Jiraiya straight in the back  of the skull. At the same time, Fugaku overbalances from the force and lands square on his ass.

Over by the water fountain, Kushina and Mikoto explode into hyena-like laughter, and Fugaku groans.

With a sympathetic smile, Minato offers him a hand up. “At least you managed to kick it that time. Try again?”

Gym is the worst class ever, an nothing will ever change Fugaku’s mind on that front.

Some belated katsudon birthday boy headcanons: 

  • Viktor is horrible at remembering things. It’s his tragic flaw, his downfall, the plight of his existence. Ever since he and Yuuri got together, Yuuri has found himself constantly reminding his boyfriend where he left his keys, yes we have dinner reservations tonight, please call your mom today she is waiting to hear from you. Honestly, Yuuri wonders how Viktor survived before him. 
  • So Viktor is forgetful, but this year is the first time he will be celebrating Yuuri’s birthday with him, so he is DETERMINED not to forget. He will remember. Yuuri deserves to have an amazing birthday and he will not forget to give him one. 
  • He puts reminders on his phone, on his laptop, on his tablet. He writes it on sticky notes and sticks them all over his room. He knows how he is and he is not going to forget his boyfriend’s birthday. 
  • So Viktor plans it all out. Gets them reservations at a restaurant he knows Yuuri loves, buys them tickets to a show Yuuri has been dying to see for ages, wakes up early and cooks Yuuri an elaborate breakfast to serve to him in bed. 
  • He sets the tray of literally every breakfast food Yuuri loves on the nightstand, and wakes up up by posing dramatically on the bedspread next to Yuuri in lacy lingerie he bought especially for this occasion, and poking him awake.
  • Yuuri blinks his eyes open to Viktor’s grinning face and his boyfriend shouting “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DO YOU LIKE YOUR PRESENT?” *gestures to his lingerie clad body and winks*
  • Yuuri stammers out a thank you and his cheeks start to flush because his boyfriend is in his bed wearing lingerie like rip in pieces Yuuri. But then he frowns in confusion because:
  • “Thank you, Viktor… but what day is it today?”
  • “November 28th! Your birthday! I didn’t forget! :D” 
  • “…”
  • Viktor’s face falls in an instant. Yuuri looks happy, yes, but he didn’t miss that one moment where Yuuri bites his bottom lip. “What is wrong Yuuri, you don’t like it?”
  • “No, no of course I like it!” Yuuri says quickly, scooting over and throwing an arm around Viktor’s neck, smiling softly. “Thank you, Viktor.” 
  • He kisses Viktor, who is more than happy to participate, but as soon as Yuuri pulls away he asks “why did you make that face then? What’s wrong?”
  • Yuuri sighs. He’d find out anyways, eventually, so he guesses there’s no point in pretending. 
  • “Viktor… my birthday is November 29th.”
  • Viktor: *freezes*
  • Viktor: “…”
  • So Viktor proceeds to wail and apologize profusely because “I MESSED UP YUURI I’M SORRY DARLING” 
  • Yuuri assures him that it’s okay, kisses him and tells him that he doesn’t mind… because it means that they can spend the whole day together just the two of them, and they can do family stuff tomorrow. It’s like a pre-birthday birthday! A boyfriend birthday!
  • Anyways, Yuuri manages to convince Viktor it’s a good thing, that he doesn’t mind that he got the dates mixed up, and they can celebrate a day early. What matters is that he gets to spend it with Viktor. 
  • Then, finally, he indulges on Viktor in his lacy lingerie and all the food Viktor cooked. 
  • It becomes a yearly thing. Viktor plans two birthday celebrations for him–the pre-birthday birthday and the birthday on the 29th that he plans with Yuuri’s mother.

(my anime blog: @viktorkatsuki)

Sherlock knows its been a rough day at the clinic by the way John climbs the stairs at the end of his shift.  Tonight the footfalls of those steps are slow and heavy.  Sherlock knows it has been a rough day,

He pushes his chair back from the table, leaving his experiment behind and gets up to immediately start water for tea. He can hear John sigh as he enters the flat and shrugs out of his coat hanging it on the hook,  

He listens as John toes off his shoes and pads towards the kitchen. Sherlock’s back still to him and it’s when Sherlock is reaching for the mugs that John wraps his arms around Sherlock’s waist and tips up on his toes to press a kiss on the nape of his neck.

“It’s the little things like this that I love about you.  The fact that you can tell before I even make it into the flat that I need a hot cuppa.”

Sherlock turns around in John’s arms and presses a soft kiss to his lips.  “It’s a husband’s job to know these things.”

John chuckles, “say that again, I’m still trying to get used to that word.”

“Husband.” Sherlock repeats with a smile on his lips.

nekoma headcanons

> kenma and fukunaga have a snapchat streak going where every day they send the most Hideous selfies from the most Awful angles.

> nobuyuki is the “go-to” guy when it comes to needing a mood boost. it’s not often the team comes to him with their personal problems, but he makes it known that if anyone needs him to flood their messages with cat pictures or inspirational quotes, he’ll be there.

> no one has been successful in beating inuoka in an eating contest. he literally can just eat non-stop like a machine. eventually, they all learned to stop trying.

> the team takes turns doing laundry duty while away at training camps. whenever it’s lev’s turn, yaku reminds him several times to wash his uniform separately to avoid color-bleeding. 3 pink libero uniforms later, it was unanimously decided that lev could no longer participate in laundry duty.

> kuroo once wore a beanie during the colder months and no one was able to recognize him for the first few hours of school. even kenma had to double take.

> yaku is always low-key training shibayama, even off the court. at the table, he will randomly wad up a napkin and toss it to shibayama to see how quick his reflexes are.

> lev loves all animals, bugs, insects, etc. his instagram is full of pictures of stray cats, squirrels, beetles, and literally any animal that will sit still long enough for him to take a picture. he once found an ant on his nightstand and made a video of it crawling around, and he captioned it “new friend”

> yamamoto once had computer troubles and called kenma over for help. while fumbling around with the computer settings, he saw “how to talk to girls” in yamamoto’s google search history. he took a picture for safekeeping, and then moved on. 

> kuroo has the hardest time getting kenma to study. he has a “no phone” rule where kenma has to turn his phone off and then kuroo keeps it in his pocket until he is done helping kenma study. it’s the most Annoying thing for kenma, but he knows kuroo means well.

Imagine John and Sherlock walking home from Angelo’s, both very tipsy indeed. And then, it starts to rain and John looks up at the night sky with a gaping mouth, as if it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen, Sherlock snorts.

“Yeah, this is rain, John,” he says with the tiniest of slurs, voice quivering with giggles. “Shocking, I know.”

John just glances at him with a sly grin. And then, with a great leap and bound, he ends up swinging on a lamppost, singing fit to burst: “I’m singing in the rain…!”

Sherlock doubles over with laughter. In his wine fuelled thoughts, he is sure all of London can hear them, but he couldn’t care in the slightest.

He tugs John off the lamppost and they set off again, hand in hand, weaving across the pavement only ever so slightly.

As John warbles on- “The sun’s in my heart and I’m reaaady for loooove!”- Sherlock does a tiny ‘tap-step-ball-change’ for the sheer joy of it.

Hammered as he is, John still notices, his face lights up (pretty damned smart, that man).

And that is how Sherlock tells him about his old tap-dancing lessons, and how the walk back to 221B ends up being half of an old choreographed routine between the two of them. They are truly ridiculous men.

It rains all the while, but neither of them thinks of calling a taxi. On this sort of special night, the cold could never reach them.