and then he makes this big sigh which sounds very cute sobs

Daddy sowwy

Awwww. Daddy harry makes me wanna cry! Here’s a cute fluff where Harry shouts on his little bub, which makes her go mad. Hope you lke it. Feedbacks are appreciated.

You woke up with sun shinning on your face. The golden rays were peeking through the white curtains of the window. With a sheepish smile, you turn to your left to be face to face with your husband. Seven years since you’ve been together and still he gives you the same butterflies when you see him.

“Starin’ beautiful?” He mumbled. His voice thick and raspy.

“Nah. Just admiring” you said tracing his lips outline with your index finger. He puckered his lips and kisses your finger ever so lightly.

“Very good.” He chuckled leaning in to he a taste of your lips which you gladly allowed. You turned on your back with Harry on top of you as his lips magically worked on your. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he wasted no time in exploring his mouth with his tongue. Your own was busy in exploring his delicious one.

You both were so captivated and Into the moment of making out, that you didn’t hear the bed room door open until you felt Someone’s presence standing beside you.

You broke from the kiss and saw your daughter Rose standing in her unicorn night suit with her Mr. Penguin in her hands.

Harry rolled of you blushing as you sat up.

“Mornin’ sugar plum” you cooed opening your arms for your 3 years old daughter, inviting her for cuddles.

“Mornin’ mumma” she said as she climbed on your lap with legs either side on your waist, cheek pressed to your chest.

You smiled and ran your fingers through her chestnut hair. They were soft and fluffy just like Harry’s but we’re not curly, instead they were straight like yours.

“Where are daddy’s cuddles monkey?” Harry asked poking the side of Rose’s tummy. She whined and pushed his hand away.

“I mad a’ daddy” she mumbled snuggling more to your chest.

“Bu’ why sugar plum?” Harry asked with a pout as he clearly was a bit sad. He loved Rose more than he loved anyone. Might even a little bit more than he loved you.

“You shwouted at me” Rose said. Tear welling up in her green eyes as she remembered what happened last night.

*Flashback to night before*

“Mommy!!!! When dadda come?” Rose asked jumping on the couch. The whole day tiny toddler kept asking when her dad will come.

“Soon bubba. And don’t jump on couch poppet. You’ll get hurt.” You said looking from the kitchen where you were preparing dinner.

Harry has been pretty busy lately. He had a lot of work to do. Sign of the times was out and was already a big hit. You couldn’t be more proud of him. Stepping into the industry alone was a big step and he was very nervous about it, but he always said that you and rose are his strength.

Nowadays, he just leaves with a kiss on your head and a kiss on Rose’s who is fast asleep in the early dusk of the mornings. Usually he’s to do the interviews that are in morning and after that he has to rush to the office for the meetings regarding promotion and other stuff. So he barely sees Rose now. And little did he know, the little munchkin of his missed him a lot.

“But when mumma?” She whined tugging on the hem of your shorts. You sighed and peered down at your little baby who was staring at you with those eyes which she got from her father. Just as bright and filled with innocence like Harry. You smiled and picked her up.

“You miss dadda a lot. Don’t you?” You asked pinching her nose making her giggle. She nods and rests her head on your shoulder.

“Yes mumma. I wove daddy.” She said.

“More than you wove me?” You asked and she nodded. Kids never lie. She did loved her daddy a lot. They always had a moment which you never understood. Maybe it was the way Harry made her feel special or the way she made Harry’s world special.

You smiled and leaned in to kiss her forehead when you heard door bell ring.

Grinning, rose eloped from your arms and ran to the door with her small legs which had lot of cute rolls. You giggled and followed her to open the door.

“Daddy!!!!!” Rose squealed as she wrapped her arms around Harry’s legs which was just an inch above Harry’s knees.

“Monkey!” Harry chuckles picking her up and kissing her lips softly. He pushed some hair away from her face and kissed her forehead removing his shoes and putting his wallet and car keys in the bowl.

“Hello sweetie.” You said softly walkinh to him. Harry smiled and put rose down softly to let her run to her room to get her dollies.

“Elo’ baby ” he said wrapping his arms around your waist. You reached up to caresses his cheek with the back of your hand. He looked tired. He was tired. You tip toed and pressed a chaste kiss to his dry lips. He kissed back instantly. No matter how tired he’d be, he never denied your kisses.

“Dadda!! Dollies here. Play with meh!” Rose chirped jumping up and down interrupting you guys. With a groan Harry pulled away.

“No’ now peaches. Daddy’s tired. We will play tomorrow.” Harry said crouching down to her level. She pouted and shook her head and stomped her feet.

“Now ! Pwease?” Rose pleaded and gave Harry her best puppy face. And there he melted. Rose was Harry’s weakness and he could never say no to her.

“Okayyyyyy” Harry said picking the little girl up and tickling her belly. For the first time today, the house filled with cute laughter of hers.

Soon you guys had dinner. He whole time rose was stick to Harry. Blubbering about her day. How she watched Moana and even sang you’re welcome for Harry. She was so adorable and cute and was a huge fan of her daddy so she even sand sign of the times. God, you wished you knew how god managed to create such an amazing baby with the love of you and your husband.

“Cmon rose bud. Time for bed honey.” You said taking rose from Harry’s arms.

“No mommy. I want daddy!!! ” she cried.

“ you’ll see him tomorrow peaches. He’s at home the whole day tomorrow.” You said.

But little one kept crying and weeping. She really did missed Harry and seeing her crying broke Harry’s heart.

“Le’ i'be baby. She can be with me in study. I’ve some work t'do.” Harry said getting up from the couch and lifting rose in his arms and setting on his hips.

“Y-you sure ?” You asked. You weren’t sure because his study had a lot of expensive CD’s and labels and other stuff. All of his awards were in there.

“Yes baby. Don’ worry” Harry said pecking your lips and walking upstairs.

You smiled at them and decided to watch TV for a bit.


“Rose. Baby sit Down quietly please”

“Rose don’ touch tha’ honey”

“Baby please stop jumping”

Harry was tired. He already had a big day and now his hyper toddler was tiring him up more. He honestly was at the verge of losing his temper when he heard a loud thud and then breaking noise.

His head snapped up in the direction of the sound and saw Rose standing quietly, arms behind her back-looking down at the broken record. It was one of the Beatles limited edition and she broke it.

Harry lost it now.

“HOW MANY TIMES I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH ANYTHING?!! Why don’t listen t'me???!!!

Harry roared. He loved the record dearly. It was a gift from one of his close friends who wasn’t in this world anymore.

Scared, Rose ran down the staircase crying. She hugged you and sobbed endlessly. The whole night little one spent crying.

*End of flashback*

Harry closed his eyes as guilt flooded his mind and heart. He yelled at his baby. It was just a record and she’s only three.

Harry gulped the guilt and sat up straight taking Rose from your arms going against her shrieks and whines.

“Daddy sowwy baby” Harry said making her look at Harry, holding her chin. She pouted her lips.

“You too loud daddy” she said as she wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck, forgiving him. Harry nudged her nose against her small small one and kissed all over her face making her giggle.

“Daddy’s so sorry baby girl.” Harry said again.

“It’ okay dadda” she said kissing Harry’s lips softly and hiding her face in his neck. Sighing happily, Harry pulled you in family cuddle as well. What a good and a pleasant way to begin the day

My Sun, Moon and Stars

Originally posted by wonhontology

Reader x Wonho
Word count: 1.7k

A/N: Alright, so I decided I wanted to delve into the Monsta X fandom, so I started with something for Wonho. The premise of this imagine is basically the reader being jealous/upset at false rumors about Wonho being in a secret relationship with a mysterious woman, and they get “caught” having a “date” which leads to misunderstandings and a fight.

Anyways, hope that if you read this you like it okay byE!!

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Word Count: 1470

Genre: fluff, a bit of angst, very very domestic parent!phan

Warnings: denied adoption (not explicitly mentioned, but strongly hinted at)


Thomas knows something’s up with his parents. They had forgotten his bedtime story the last few days, so he goes to their room to ask for one, and is instead confronted with the sight of his Papa comforting a crying Dan.

A/N Don’t worry, this has a happy ending, I promise.

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🔷 The Notebook

Originally posted by myloveseokjin

Summary: Jimin finds your notebook in the train which is very important to you. He tries to give it back and also help you. 

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: angst (mention of blood, drugs and depression ) / fluff 

Words: 3 511

A/N: Hope you like it. I apologize for any grammatical errors.

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qvoro  asked:

"You’re under arrest."

Also posted on my ao3 account under the title: Bonus Points.

My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here.


“You’re under arrest.”

“Excuse me?” Rhys looked up from the sandwich he was eating with Vaughn and into the face of one of Hyperion’s police force.

He’d finished an incredibly difficult coding issue and had been eating the celebratory meal in relative relief and peace. Vaughn had even offered to treat him to ice cream when they were done there.

“Did we do anything wrong?” Vaughn asked, which in retrospect was a stupid question, because no one working at Hyperion was squeaky clean.

“Not you, just him,” the man said as he was still looking at Rhys. Or at least, Rhys thought he was looking at him. It was hard to tell through the helmet.

“Uh….what did I do?”

“Please don’t make a scene, sir.”

Rhys gave Vaughn a fearful look as his mind ran through everything he’d recently done and what might have been found out. He rose on shaky legs before the man, and Vaughn stood as well.

“Not you. Just him,” the officer told Vaughn pointedly as the shorter man sat back down.

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yoonjin moments compilation post #runera

so as the run promotion era ended, i really want to make a post for anything yoonjin that has happened because whoa.. i kinda surprise because apparently there’s quite a lot or maybe it’s because i got to talk and have an intense discussion about yoonjin with a bunch of lovely little shits from @yoonjin-network so we got to catch a lot of their moments recently–not to mention our I.F.L.M.M.B.L.D.T.F.Y. session. if anyone wondering, it stands for “I Fucking Losing My Mind But Let’s Do This Fuck Yeah!” where we usually do an impromptu yoonjin scenario because these little shits just can’t hold theirself sometimes *sigh*

so i dedicate this post for you guys. just to summarize what’s just happened in the spare of 2 months. we can’t let the moment be forgotten.

this post contained a lot of photos and gifs so I put this under the cut

^that^ is me after finishing this post btw


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Taming the rage

TITLE: Taming The Rage

Original Imagine: Imagine Odin tells Loki he has to marry and its you. You’ve hated him for years. Every time he sees you in the palace he chuckles knowing all the duties you will have to perform as his princess, making you cringe. He isn’t fond of you either but can’t help looking forward to the challenge.


Author: Lokilover9

Notes: Comments and likes are much appreciated. Thank you!

The next day she went to Janes for lunch. Upon receiving a tour she was in awe at the size of their chambers. Twenty rooms in all including a hot tub and a small private pool. Thor was swimming with Junior. Erika thought he looked so cute in his little floaty chair. “Hello Erika.” Never seeing Thor with his shirt off before she was a little in awe of him too. She smiled. “Hi how are you?” He came to the pools edge handing Junior to mommy. She wrapped him in a towel scooping him up into her arms. “Look who’s here to see you today!” Junior and Erica smiled at each other. While the servants prepared they decided to eat on the balcony. Erika sat with Junior on a big spongy blanket while they played with his toys. “I have never seen him take to anyone the way he has to you.” Erica blushed. “I’m in love with this little man already.” When she picked him up and kissed him on the forehead he instantly nuzzled his little head into her neck. “Awe! What have I done to make you like me so much little one?”

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Find Her

Fandom: Supernatural

Character/Ship: Reader, Sam, Dean

Warning: Kidnapping, Light cursing?, Smiting a demon, pregnancy, giving birth

Writer: Cas

Words: 2412

Requested by: Someone on an imagine page. Maybe thefandomimagine or imaginesofeveryfandom

Summary: Being the sister of Sam and Dean and your daughter is kidnapped by a demon

Author’s Note: This took literally 2 weeks and I’m so happy. It’s so long oh my god

Originally posted by malasorte-malavita

Originally posted by hallowedbecastiel

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My Queen and Princess

Originally posted by benkotuyumyasen

“Morning Ni.” You sigh, seeing Niall sitting in front of his laptop at the mini bar that was used for small parties at the Horan household. A few small rounds of morning sickness and not having a good night’s sleep was very evident on your face, as you quietly yawned. With the 7 month pregnant belly you were sporting, sleep didn’t come easy for you. It’s been impossible to lie down in a comfortable position at night, and with the constant pushing against your bladder and mild nausea becoming worse when the moon was out, sleep was the last thing Cara let you do.

“Morning Princess.” He smiles, but doesn’t turn around from his laptop he was working on. He had been like this for some time now. Being distant and nervous. You could understand the nervous part. It was just a few more months until his first child would be born into the world and he would become a father. This meant that he would have another life in his hands. This meant he would now have another person that would have his eyes and your hair. This person, a combination between the both of you, would count on him to come a quiet her down every other time when she either needed a changing, a feeding, or just a warm cuddle from her father. This meant that he would have to protect her from everything up to the small ant she would scream to “get away”, to the boys that she would meet in her middle school years who only thought hot girls, having their pants below the waistline of their boxers, and Buffalo wings were the only important things that mattered in the world right then. But what you didn’t understand was the distant part. It started at 6 and a half months. He would rub your swollen belly at every chance he was given anymore. Long, passionate “good morning” and “goodnight” kisses turned into small pecks that were sometimes forgotten. Snuggling during when you could get some sleep peaceful turned into, “Sorry, I probably won’t be home by the time you go to sleep’s”. Sometimes when you did have the energy to stay awake until he got home he would give you a quick greeting with a small kiss and rush upstairs. When you got up to your shared bedroom he was already asleep, leaving you feeling cold and alone. You wanted to ask him about his actions, but you feel that asking would just make it worse.

“Do you want to hear about the appointment yesterday? Cara was sad that you weren’t with us yesterday. She wouldn’t kick or anything.” You joke, hoping he would say yes. He hadn’t gone to the ultrasound appointment with you. Or the one before that. Or the one before that. Or the one before that. You had let it slide because he had important things to do. Interviews or appearances were apparently more important than the health of your baby. You had tried not to show any emotion when he gave an excuse, and it was hard. It almost seemed like he didn’t want anything to do with Cara, and that scared you. You couldn’t do this alone. You needed him and so did Cara.

“I would love too, but the boys and Sophia are coming over remember. Maybe you could tell us all together, yeah? They’ve been dying to hear about Baby Cara. Especially Sophia. Liam keeps texting me questions from her at least 6 times a day.” Niall laughs, and despite your glum mood, you let out a small giggle too.

“I should go and get dressed then. Don’t want to look like an old hag now, do I?” You joke.

“You do not look like an old hag. You are the most beautiful thing on the planet Earth.” Niall says, as he presses a kiss into your forehead, making your heart flutter.

“Now go and get dressed, while I make breakfast. Eggs and bacon okay?” You nod, mouth nearly watering at the sound of food.

“Sounds amazing.” You groan, as he smiles and starts to get out the food to make for breakfast. As you walk up the stairs, your thoughts go to Cara. She had been kicking a lot lately, and you had been having little pains throughout areas on your stomach, but you didn’t think much of it. It was getting closer and closer to the due date, and you thought it was just her way of showing that she was ready to make her appearance in the world. Hopefully you were right…


“You’re looking as lovely as always, Mrs. Horan.” Harry smiles, walking through the front door of your friendly, inviting home, pressing a friendly kiss into your forehead. You smile, closing the door behind him. He was the last one to arrive, being fashionably late, as always.

“He’s right, babe. I hope I look as good as you when I’m pregnant.” Sophia’s voice echoes through the semi empty hallway.

“You will.” You smirk, but then wince when Cara gives a particularly hard kick. Both Harry’s and Sophia’s eyebrows furrow, looking at you with worry filled eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Harry ask, lightly gripping your elbow. You look at him briefly, before softly rubbing his forearm, letting him know that you’re alright.

“I’m fine. Cara’s just been a little more active the past few days. I promise.” You smile at him and Sophia, but they still don’t look convinced, which made you drop your shoulders and sigh.

“I’m really am fine. Her due dates is just a few months away, and the doctor said that they get more active as the due date gets closer. Trust me.” You finalize, and they not dare argue, though they wanted too. They knew you should never argue with a pregnant lady. Ever.


“So here’s her head, her feet, and her body.” You says, pointing to each one as you say it. You were all standing close to the couch, hovering over the picture everyone was excited to see.

“That’s amazing.” Louis breathes out, Liam, Harry, and Sophia agreeing with him. You loved how they were so fascinated with her. Sometimes more than Niall, who was in the bathroom at the moment.

“How excited was Niall at the appointment?” Liam giggles, expecting he was about to hear how he was basically jumping up and down, with fat tears running down his cheeks. None of them knew that he hadn’t gone to the past few appointments, let alone engaged with your swollen belly.

“Um, actually he didn’t go. He hasn’t been to last 3 to be honest.” You say, tearing up. Looking down at the picture of your tiny, unborn baby, scary thoughts coming back to your mind.

“Hey, don’t cry, love.” Sophia coos softly, slipping next you.

“I can’t help it. I’m just scared that he doesn’t want anything to do with her. He hasn’t been treating her the same. Half the time he doesn’t want to hear about what the doctor said, and when he does, something comes up and he has to leave.” You sob, tears starting to pour out of your eyes. Everyone was stunned. Hearing that Niall was acting like this was surprising, considering the way he had acted earlier in the pregnancy. Hands never leaving your belly unless forced too, and he somehow always got them back to where they were resting, despite Lou’s request to come back and sit in the chair so his hair could be finished.

“He’s probably just nervous. I mean, I would be if I was going to be a father.” Harry sighs, if anything a little upset with how Niall has been acting.

“But-” You start, but get cut off by a throbbing pain between your legs, making you nearly scream out. Looking down, you see flashes of red just running down your legs. Your knees give out, causing both Liam and Harry catch you on either side. Your eyes start to pour out more tears, as you see a blurry Niall rushing up to you.

“Oh, my god! Princess, what’s wrong?!” He ask, tears now falling from his eyes.

“I-I don’t know! Somethings not right, Ni.” You sob, as you see Louis calling an ambulance out of the corner of your eye. All you can hear is your heavy breathing and Niall’s voice. Everything seems hazy and like a nightmare. Noises that you know you would pay attention to are as loud as ever right now. The dial tones as Louis calls help, the big grandfather clock ticking on the wall.

“I need you to breathe for me, okay?” Niall says. But you can’t. Somethings wrong with Cara. Somethings wrong with your baby. She may not make it. You might not make it. You become very lightheaded, and the last thing you remember is falling into your husband’s arms.


“I feel like a douche. You needed me, and I was too worried about whether I was going to be a good enough father.” You hear someone sob. Opening your eyes, you let out a small groan, catching the attention of the person in the room.

“Princess?!”Niall rushes over to you, and crouches down next to your hospital bed. You hold his hand, as his head falls onto the bed and he lets out loud sobs. But then you remember why you’re in this uncomfortable hospital bed, and start to notice the pain in your abdomen.

“Niall…” You tearfully whisper. His head raises at the sound of his name. He looks into your teary eyes, and knows why your about to burst into tears.

“She’s alright, love. She’s a fighter. She wanted to see her Mummy and Daddy a little too early, and some of her organs were under developed. Mainly her lungs, but her heart is a little smaller than it should be. She’s getting treated and helped out right now, and god, you were so brave. I’m so proud of you, and you did so well. You both did. She couldn’t cry much because of the lung problem, but I did hear a few whimpers, and let me tell you it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard.” Niall tearfully laughs, after catching you up on everything. You felt like the world was lifted off your shoulders.
You were okay.
Cara was okay.
Hopefully it would stay that way.

“Niall? Do you mind if we come in? I hear more than one voice in there.” You hear a deep voice say from the other side of the door. Niall looks at you questioningly, not knowing if you were okay with anyone in the room at the moment, considering you had just woken up. You nod at him, wanting to see a few other familiar faces. Niall hesitates before calling out an answer, but not taking his eyes off you.

“Come on in.” The door opens slowly and you see a long haired head peeks into the room. His face lights up, as he sees that you’re awake and okay.

“Hey, love birds.” A smiling Liam, Sophia, and Louis appear behind Harry. You laugh slightly, ignoring the slight pain, seeing that Liam, Louis, and Harry have at least 6 balloons and stuffed animals each.

“What’s all this?” You ask as they fill into the room, setting down their gifts, and walking over to your hospital bed.

“How are you, love?” Liam ask, sitting on the other side of you, rubbing a light hand on your leg, causing you to smile.

“Right now, fine. But, is it possible that I could see Cara?” Niall, nods before paging to get a nurse to help you all.

“She’s beautiful. Just like her mother.”


“Just be very careful.” The nurse says cautiously, before gently handing over the little bundle that you and Niall had created. With you in a wheelchair, just waking up from an emergency C-Section, and your little one hooked up to all of these tubes and wires, you could understand why. As you feel her being put into your arms, you gasp. She was gorgeous and so small. One of the smallest things you’ve ever held.

“Niall… We made her. She’s ours.” You cry, feeling Niall lightly wrap his arms around you.

“I know, Princess. Or should I say queen.” Niall chuckles, seeing Cara’s little hand move to grasp your pointer finger, which just makes you want to cry even harder.

“Why Queen?” You ask, not taking your eyes off of the wonderful creation before you both.

“Because now, Cara is my Princess, and you are now my Queen.” He explains, pressing a soft kiss into your hairline, before rubbing a feather like stroke on Cara’s little head.

“I love it. I love her. I love you, Niall James Horan.” You smile, looking up at him and smiling, before looking back down at your baby girl, and pressing a kiss on her head.

“I love you too, Queen. And I love you, Princess.”

Word Count: 2176


title: The Name Game

pairing: nalu

a/n: fluff<3 

the name game explained: okay, so basically the Name Game happens in the beginning of the semester, and it’is where the teacher picks on some lucky S.O.B. who get off SO easily by only having to say their name to the class. 

That’s it, one and done. 

Easy pickin’ from there on out for them. THEN, the kid beside them has to introduce the kid that just went, and then their own name. And so on and so forth. Ultimately, the process keeps repeating itself until the last kid to go is reciting the names of EVERYONE in the room (which can be anywhere from low teens to in the 30′s depending on how big ur class is) ((this is typically an icebreaker, so this is the first time the kids have ever met each other and makes it even more difficult for the poor sap stuck going last)). 

Natsu loathed the name game. 

After all, for Christ’s sake, he was in college. He expected the embarrassing ice-breakers to be left behind in high school, not carry over into his English 1010 course at Uni. 

And to his terrible luck, fate always seemed to make it so that he was the last one to go, which meant he’d made a fool of himself on numerous occasions because he could only ever remember a handful at best. 

Today, he was doing pretty bad… even for him. The only one he’d managed to remember was the cute blonde a few tables over. 

Long braid, cute smile… and the biggest brown eyes he’d ever seen. 

Everyone’s attention shifted to him as the boy to his left finished reciting the entire room with perfect memory, exceeding expectations. People were looking at Natsu expectantly. 

Some sympathetic, while others looked excited; ready to see if he’d be the first one to screw up. Bastards. 

Natsu felt his face flame up. The tinge of his cheeks was undoubtedly giving the shade of his hair a run for its money as he heaved a heavy sigh and slid down in the cheap, plastic chair. 

The dude beside him have him an encouraging thumbs-up, but to Natsu it seemed sarcastic. 

Okay, I’ll definitely remember your name, Natsu grumbled internally. King Dickhead.

A week had passed since then, and still Natsu knew next to no one. 

Out of habit, his eyes lifted to the corner of the room to search for the blonde, but she wasn’t there yet. He tapped his pencil against the leg of his jeans, mindlessly staring into space as he willed the remaining five minutes to speed by so class would start. 

It almost made him physically hurt to think like that. It was so wildly different from his high school inner dialogue, but college was proving to be a whole other ball park altogether. 

He was used to being a socialite, but so far he hadn’t really put forth the effort to put himself out there. Natsu normally liked to pride himself on being a people person, but it was kinda hard to buddy up to someone that he knows he’ll probably never see again after the semester ends.

Except for that one guy near the front of the room. 

Natsu sees him on an almost daily basis when passing through the courtyard. 

He should probably stop and say something to him at some point, but the dude always looks pretty preoccupied with his tightrope routine.

It’d be rude to interrupt. 

The teacher walked in then, breaking the boy’s train of thought by immediately starting class. Natsu sighed and touched his pencil to a clean sheet of paper as the professor launched into the lecture. 

He was still finishing off his first line of notes when the door opened and in stumbled the cute blonde. 

Her hair was windswept and wild–not like it was styled that way on purpose– and she was breathing hard, like she’d just sprinted through the parking lot and up the three flights of stairs. The books in her arms were clearly weighing her down and proving to be a burden, but before she could take a step towards her table, the teacher dismissed her. 

Natsu eyes widened, stunned. Even King Dickhead looked a little shocked.

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Written for the wonderful Audrey since she was my 200th follower, yaay! She wanted sick Jean being coddled by Eren and Marco, I loved to deliver. Thanks again for the prompt, hope you like it!

As was always the case, finals had taken their toll on all three of them again. The first week had been relatively civil with them sorting the material and making plans how to tackle it.
But as time went on and their plans didn’t work out, the cramming and with it the slow descend into madness started.

Marco constantly forgot to eat, all holed up in their bedroom with notes and books scattered around him, barely speaking to anyone except to babble theorems and formulas. He had to be dragged out to the dinner table by Jean almost every day, then be forced to eat and take part in a conversation that didn’t involve topics from his books before the other two could send him off to the bedroom again.
Eren wasn’t fairing any better. He wasn’t going full hermit mode, didn’t have the resolve for that, but his mind was still all over the place. It was mostly his fault that their apartment was drowning in chaos after a few days since he always lost some important paper or another and was quite rigorous in searching for it. When he completely ruined one of his textbooks by taking it with him into the shower – he had somehow forgotten why that was a bad idea – and was having a minor mental breakdown at two am, Jean found him another copy at the library.

Marco and Eren didn’t understand how he could manage all that, provide food for the three of them, keep their place habitable and execute superb crisis management, all on top of studying for his own exams, but they were both beyond grateful.
Jean was their backbone during finals and they loved him for taking care of them. Even though it was hard to show their gratitude while desperately shoving information into their brains.

It was a horrible and wonderful thing that Jean, every semester without fail, fell terribly sick after they had taken their last exam. Horrible because he had been working the hardest at keeping them all healthy while also doing his best in his finals and he didn’t deserve this in the least. Wonderful because this was their chance to pay him back in kind for all his care.
Thus, the first week after finals was traditionally spent under heaps of blankets in their bed, Marco and Eren taking turns making more tea or cooking soup or omelet or doing whatever it was Jean needed them to do. This semester was no exception.

Marco had taken his last exam on Wednesday, two days after his boyfriends had been through and the very next morning they had woken up to a shivering, sneezing and overall cranky Jean hogging all the blankets he could find. It had taken them until the weekend to lower his fever to a somewhat normal temperature but come Saturday night he was still far from feeling well again.
Marco was just slicing up ginger and lemons to make another big pot of tea when Eren slid into the kitchen and hugged him from behind, burrowing his face between Marco’s shoulder blades. He let go of the knife to hug him back as much as he could like this, hands curling around wiry forearms.

“Everything okay, babe?” The answer was a long, low sigh during which Eren relaxed, resting his weight against Marco who easily supported him.
“Yeah, sure. Tired … where did we put the Disney movies again?” Eren’s voice was almost too muffled to understand but Marco could make the words out just so. He wiggled a little and managed to turn around in Eren’s grasp so he could put his arms around the smaller boy.
They had reorganized their movie collection some weeks before finals and still had not gotten used to it. Even though it should be easier to find everything now. At least that was what Jean claimed.

“Why don’t you ask Mr. Blanket Burrito?”
“He doesn’t remember…” That was unfortunate. Jean was the one who had come up with the new, better system and neither Marco nor Eren really understood what it was. To them, it had looked like their boyfriend had thrown various genres and titles into different drawers and called it a day. It wouldn’t be as much of a problem if their combined collection wasn’t as big.
“Hm, which one does he want?” Marco pressed a kiss to Eren’s scalp, burrowing his nose into the chaotic fluff that was his hair.
“Mulan, of course.”
“Got that one on my hard drive. Go set it up, I’ll finish here and join you in a few.” They shared another kiss, Eren whispering thanks against his lips before leaving the kitchen again.

Not ten minutes later they were all snuggled up in bed together, watching one of their favorite movies begin. Jean took up the place in the middle, at least five pillows stuffed behind his back so he could sit up comfortably and about as many blankets draped over and wrapped around his body. He was wearing one of Marco’s oversized sweaters, sleeves pulled down over his hands so he could hold the hot pot of tea in his lap, taking very careful sips now and again. Ginger lemon tea was his favorite when he was sick, at least when Marco shoveled more honey into it than was probably healthy.
His face was still sickly pale except for the red nose, but his eyes weren’t as glassy and shadowed anymore. Also he could speak now without coughing between every two words.

Eren was leaning over the pillows to give his sore shoulders a massage, pressing soothing kisses to his skin wherever he could.
Marco was cuddled up to his other side, carding fingers through his sweaty hair, always tugging the blankets just a little bit higher when they started slipping.
Just as Mulan was thrown out of the matchmaker’s house, Jean turned his head to the side.

“Marcoooooo…?” Oh, it was time for the tone. The tone Jean chose when asking for something he knew he wasn’t healthy enough for yet. It was especially hard to refuse him when he got like this but by now they had experience. Marco looked over at him and raised a skeptical eyebrow in preparation for the question that was to follow. “Can we order Chinese takeout?” There it was.
“Jean, honey, you just ate half an hour ago…”, Marco murmured, successfully suppressing a giggle while he continued the loving petting of Jean’s hair.
“Yeah, soup…!”

“I thought you liked my soup?”, Eren asked from behind them, moving his massage up to Jean’s neck and making him groan with delight. He enjoyed it for a few moments before he seemed to remember his request.
“I do! I just … haven’t eaten anything else for days and I … I want Chinese.”
“Oh, I know…” Marco pressed a kiss to his temple, sweeping blond hair back from his forehead. “But you’re not yet well enough for Chinese. Remember last year when you said you could eat pizza and we believed you?”
That was no pleasant memory indeed.
It involved an exhausted Jean kneeling in front of the toilet for almost an hour, making them swear between sobs and hurls to never believe him anything ever again. They hadn’t since that day.

“That … that was so different!” This was the voice of a man who knew he wouldn’t get takeout anytime soon. Not as whiny as he could have sounded but still as petulant as it got. He soon groaned again when Eren hit a particularly tight muscle and began loosening it with careful swirls of his fingers.
“As soon as you’re better, and I mean absolutely healthy,” Eren added when he felt Jean twitch, “we’re getting you as much Chinese takeout as you want. We’re gonna eat it right here, watching whatever movie you want to watch and we’re gonna do to you whatever you want us to afterward. Deal?” The only answer was unintelligible grumbling until Marco tried to add:
“And I’ll go fetch you another orange?” To which Jean agreed after another moment of careful consideration.

A few minutes later Jean was happy again, relaxing into Eren’s massage and licking orange juice from Marco’s fingers as they watched his all time favorite movie. Being sick had never been as nice as now, that he was being pampered by his two wonderful boyfriends.
He liked taking care of them when they couldn’t do so themselves. It was nice they liked taking care of him as well.

Temporary Affairs II

Table of Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Chapter o5.  The Caretaker

After some vocal persuasion, some aegyo, and a few kisses, Jongin finally surrendered and let you babysit Youngwoo.  You swung your legs inside the car excitedly.  It had been a whole week since you last played with the handsome little boy.  

“What if you end up poisoning him?” he laughed, more of as a joke but you felt your heart drop. 

“Oppa, am I really that useless and unreliable.  Do we need to hire a permanent doula after I give birth?” you questioned with a frown. 

He did a double take examining your expression.  With one hand still on the wheel, he stretched his other hand out to squeeze yours. 

“Jagiya, I was just kidding.  Don’t take it too seriously,” he tried to retract his previous statement. 

But every joke held a bit of truth.  And there was so much truth in the fact that you were still so young, so childish, so naïve, and not ready to be a mother.  You had just been pushing that thought on the far, far end of your mind because you thought with time, you’d mature.  But you were already over half way through your pregnancy and you thought…or as your husband thought you were still the same immature girl that bickered with him 24/7.     

Jongin abruptly parked the car.  You looked around, thinking you were in front of Sehun’s house.  But as you looked up to the mirror, you finally realized you had been silently crying.  Quickly, you wiped away your tears, hoping your husband didn’t see. 

“Jagiya…I was really just kidding,” he coaxed. 

“Oh, I’m fine.  I’m fine.  There was just dust in my eyes,” you brushed it off but your husband looked at you with skepticism.  As much as you hated your husband always treating you like a five-year-old, you hated it even more when he could tell that you were hurt…because it scared you that your sensitivity would drive him away one day. 

“Babe…look at me,” he tugged your hand and you obediently turned around so he continued, “You’re going to be a great mother”.  Will I be?


But you forced on a smile and nodded so he would drop the subject.  Sighing in relief, Jongin drove off again.

At Sehun’s house, you discovered pictures and pictures of his wife.  She was so, so graceful and womanly, alluding the perfect motherly figure.  As Sehun gave you a brief tour around his house before he left for work, you realized that everything from the laced curtains to the Victorian wallpaper, to the layout of the baby’s room was artistically flawless.

“By…any chance is your wife an artist?” you asked.

The young father turned around surprised by your accurate deduction and replied, “Yeah, she is an interior designer”.

“Ah…that makes sense,” you nodded, your hands grazing along the silk curtains. 

After Sehun left for work, you walked over to the crib, picked Youngwoo up, and then rocked him on the rocking chair.  He stared blankly at you, cooing and moving his little arms around.  You brought your face against his and pulled your phone to take a selfie. 

“Childish,” you imagined Jongin say.  Frowning, you withdrew the phone and put it back into your pocket. 

Setting the baby on your lap, you stared at him with a pout and asked, “Youngwoo-yah, do you think I’ll be a good mother?”

The little boy babbled and thrashed his chubby legs around in affirmation.

“But Oppa doesn’t think so.  Do you think Oppa regrets marrying me?”

Youngwoo flailed his little feet again. 

“I think so too,” you bit your lip. 

Suddenly, loud wails escaped from Youngwoo’s tiny lips, startling you.  Bouncing the baby on your lap, you tried to analyze what had made him lose his temper.  You placed your palm on his bum but it wasn’t warm so likely not a diaper issue.  Sehun said he had fed Youngwoo right before you arrived so likely not hungry either. 

“What’s wrong, Honey?” you asked, flustered when his cries only escalated. 

Taking a rattle from the toy box, you shook it a few times, hoping to calm Youngwoo down but he continued to cry.  So you brought him to your chest to pat him on your back but it didn’t help.  Out of ideas, you helplessly took a pacifier for him to suck.  The sobs quieted down and you sighed in relief, slumping back on the rocking chair exhausted.  But the tranquility was short lived.  A “ting” noise sounded.  You looked around to see the pacifier discarded on the floor.  Moments later, Youngwoo began to sob again.  Out of fear, you grabbed your phone to text Jongin for help but your finger lingered on the send button before retreating.  If I call for help now, that proves his idea that I am too childish for this role.  Throwing the device back into your pocket, you picked the baby up again.  As you rocked him back and forth, you stared into the eyes of the little boy, deep in thought.  Maybe…you really weren’t ready to be a mother. 


“You miss your Omma, don’t you?” you heard your voice whisper. 

The baby responded with softer cries.

“Do you even remember her?” your voice cracked.  Will my baby remember me if I left?  Will Oppa long for me as much as Sehun longed for his wife? 


The weeps lessened. 

“What is her name?  How did her voice sound like?  Which parts of you mirror her?  How about her scent, do you remember that?” you asked, your voice empty of emotions.

Silence answered you.  

It took another round of cradling, and tickling, and humming to get the little prince to fall asleep.  As you gazed at the sleeping angel, you felt like a mother for the first time.  Yes, morning sickness, occasional kicks, and a growing balloon stomach should have woken you up from your cute illusion of motherhood but right there in front of you was reality.  That as much as being pregnant and giving birth was a big milestone, taking care of a child for the next twenty-one or more years was the real deal.  You sighed, gently lifting Youngwoo up to tuck him back into his crib. 

In the next few hours, you fed the hungry baby twice, cleaned his nappy four times, and lulled him to sleep sixth consecutive times.  Your hair was a mess, your shirt half clung onto your exposed shoulder, and your legs cramped from standing and running around so much. 

When you finally got some quiet time to yourself to think and rest your throbbing back against the sofa, the front door opened and in came Sehun and Jongin.  Immediately, you straightened up, fixed your hair, and feigned a smile. 

“Jagiya, did you have fun?” your husband asked, kissing you on top of your head. 

No, not really.  I don’t think I’m ready to be the mother of your baby.


“Yeah, very,” you heard your trained voice automatically respond. 

“See, _______ssi, I told you you’d be a good mother in the future,” Sehun spoke, hovering over the crib to check on his son. 

You nervously laughed. 

In the car ride home, you looked out the window, staring at the still half-lit sky.  Silently, you prayed for God or the stars or any holy spirit to answer your questions.  As you painted invisible images in the sky with your fingers, Jongin slipped his hand through yours. 

“You’re awfully quiet today.  Are you still angry at what I said earlier?” he asked, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. 

Immediately, you turned around and shook your head, “No, of course I’m not angry”.  Because it’s the truth. 


“So tell me about your adventure with Youngwoo,” Jongin suggested.  Oh, it was an adventure all right.


“I wonder what it felt like for Sehun’s wife to leave,” you said instead.

“Well, you left me once.  How did that feel?” he quipped. 

“Not good,” you admitted, “but that’s different because I knew I was coming back”.

“Weren’t you the one who firmly told Sehun that his wife would return too?” he questioned, bringing your hand up to his lip. 

He nibbled the back of your hand like a little squirrel eating corn and then he sealed it with a kiss before letting go to park the car in the garage.

At night, in bed, despite the fact that Jongin’s nightmares were occurring less frequently, you discovered yourself clinging tightly against him.  Just in case…just in case I don’t get to in a few months.  Just in case he decides I’m not good enough to be his child’s mother.


Just in case…      


a/n: And the angst slowly begins… ^(#`∀´)_Ψ Now do you guys understand why I had to make the girl a little obnoxious in the first few chapters? Hehe.  I still love her either way and I hope you guys do too :3

So glad you guys enjoy the guest starring of Sehun/Youngwoo!!  (▰˘◡˘▰) Hehe they’re so loved!  I think The Lucky One characters show up again three more times in this series :D #crossingstorieslikeapro

Off topic question but does anyone know what breed Candy, Tao’s little puppy, is?  I really want to know!!   

anonymous asked:

Hi Charlie. Can I request maybe something cute or sweet with the Nordics. My grandpa passed away last night and I could use a bit of cheering up.

Of course you can, sweetheart. Sorry it’s late- I’ve not had a lot of time on my hands :’)


“I want to touch those lights.”
The groggy voice broke the peaceful silence, making the two others- eyelids heavy with sleep- sigh.
“They’re too far away, Den,” Norway muttered sleepily and rolled onto his side, pulling the cloak over his small frame some more.
“I still want to touch them,” Denmark replied, his eyes fixated on the sky, shining as bright as those distant stars that shimmered in the vast blackness.
Sweden murmured something that evaded the small Dane’s hearing, but made Norway snort.
“What?” Denmark asked with a yawn, glancing at the half asleep Swede curled up on the grass on his right.
“He said,” Norway repeated. “That maybe one day we could fly up there and touch them.”
Denmark snickered, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Flying… Imagine if we were birds… Maybe then we could touch them.”
“Just go to sleep, Den,” the Norwegian sighed, frowning with his eyes closed. Denmark hummed in response, but didn’t succumb to his slumber. The flickering lights were far too fascinating for that. Only when the sun was rising in the distance did his eyes finally flutter closed, the weak lights from far away extinguishing under the much brighter light of the sun.

Many centuries later…

Iceland found him on the hilltop by the house.
His worry dissipated as soon as he saw the darkly outlined figure, one arm tucked behind his head and his other hand clasping a bottle of liquor. Iceland swallowed thickly and climbed the grassy mount to join the Dane, quietly sitting down on the grass by him and holding the small toy rabbit that was left to him by his chest.
Denmark’s eyes were closed and he made no move to acknowledge the Icelander. He seemed lost in thought- an equally concerning and impressive gesture for the Dane- small creases appearing between his eyebrows. Not knowing quite what to do now that he had found him, the young boy stared back at the house. How it used to be so alight with happiness when they were all in good terms. Where Finland used to bake, where Sweden used to carve intricate toys for Iceland, where Norway used to read in his favourite chair by the fire…
It seemed so desolate now. The rooms to big, silence to fill the empty air. The sounds now that seemed to occupy the house where the smashing of crockery and furniture in Denmark’s fits of drunken rage, and the sobbing late at night when both thought the other couldn’t hear them crying.
Iceland turned his attention back to Denmark. He wet his lips and swallowed again, before speaking in a small voice. “Denmark?”
The Dane was so still he might as well be asleep, but then his hand moved and brought the bottle to his lips, where he took a long and satisfying drink.
“Iceland.” Was the tired reply.
“Why are you out here?”
A blue eye cracked open a fraction. His gaze seemed to settle on the expanse of sky above his head. Pitch black, with the occasional dot of light.
“I’ve always wanted to touch those stars,” Denmark said absently. “Ever since I was little.”
Iceland merely nodded. He understood- the stars were a comfort. They reminded him of the old times.
Silence overtook the two, until Iceland shivered.
“You cold, kid?” Denmark asked, looking up at him.
“A… A little,” Iceland responded quietly. Denmark grunted and sat up then stood up, extending a hand to help Iceland up too.
“C'mon… Let’s go back,” Denmark said. His voice was blunt and almost monotone, which scared Iceland. As they walked back, Iceland spared a glance up towards the sky. Did the stars really mean that much to him? He doubted he would ever know…

Present Day

“Denmark! Wake up!”
The cheerful voice made the Dane groan loudly and cover his ears.
“Go awaaaaay…” He moaned, frowning. “It’s too early…”
“Actually it’s not quite morning yet, just very late at night. Though I guess you could consider past midnight very early morning- oops, I’m going on! Come on, you’ve got to get up!”
Denmark, his teeth gritted from the Fin’s happy chattering, stared at him pleadingly. “Why…?”
“It’s a surprise!” Finland said, before thrusting a pile of warm winter clothes at the Dane. “Up and dressed- we’ve got somewhere to be!”

“Where are we going?” Denmark asked tiredly, stumbling after the Fin and swearing when his foot caught on a branch. He knew Finland could be quite unpredictable, but dragging him out to the forest at a ridiculous time in the morning was… Almost frightening really.
“We’re almost there!” Finland replied, not looking back, an excited tone in his voice and his walk. Denmark just muttered something unintelligible and swore again when a tree branch smacked him mercilessly in the jaw.

“Ok, now close your eyes!”
“What?” Denmark asked, startled. This was now very unnerving.
“Trust me, close your eyes! No peeking!” Denmark shrugged and closed his eyes, silently saying his prayers as he blindly kept walking forward. What on Earth was happening? Had Finland finally lost it? Was he about to lead Denmark into a clearing and stab him with a… A… Fork?
“Stop!” The sudden command made him jump and he nearly opened his eyes, but remembered at the last second and kept them firmly shut.
“Can I open my eyes now?”
“No, not yet.” There was some rustling, a few hushed whispers, and then came a different voice.
“… Open your eyes.”
As soon as he did, his jaw dropped. Everywhere- nestled in the trees, on the floor, in bushes where lights. Hundreds upon hundreds of them- all types. Fairy lights, candles, small glass jars… It was breathtaking.
“W… What’s this?” Denmark asked, unable to believe what he was seeing.
“Well… We’ve all known for a long time that you’ve wanted to touch the stars…” Iceland said, slightly embarrassed. “So… We… Knowing that it’s impossible…”
“Brought the stars to you!” Finland finished with a graceful clap of his hands. “So… What do you think?”
“… It’s… Beautiful…” Denmark gasped, the beauty confirmed with a soft him from Sweden, before the Dane covered his eyes as he felt the acidity of tears burn them. “Th-thank you all… So much…”
As the others let out relieved sighs and then went to admire the handiwork themselves, Norway stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Denmark.
“I don’t deserve this,” the Dane choked out, swallowing hard. “I don’t deserve this…” He was cut off by a gentle hush from the Norwegian.
“It doesn’t matter… We just wanted to make your dream come true as a thank you for being… The light… of our… lives,” Norway frowned at the cheesiness- especially coming from him- and turned Denmark around to face him, his dark eyes lit up with the thousands of lights scattered around the place like the stars he had observed for centuries. “Happy birthday, Den.”


Additional note: sorry for this being quite a random series of events, but I hope you like it!

Passion (c.h.) Part 2

Part 1

A/N: ‘y/e/n’ means ‘your enemy’s name’

“Calum,” you repeated back to him. You liked the way his name rolled of your tongue. 

You smiled at him, a genuine smile. He was your soulmate. He was the one you were meant to spend the rest of your life with, and you couldn’t be happier that the two of you had finally found each other. 

 “Cal,” you heard a woman’s voice coming from behind him. Looking over at Calum you saw that his expression had suddenly gone from shock and happiness to fear and…. guilt? 

Keep reading

when you’re in love every moment matters

Set 10 years after when you’re in love all the lines get blurred. Jimin turns 28 and Yoongi works really hard on his gift.

word count: 5000
rating: t
pairing: est yoonmin
warnings: none! this is just some straight fluff i wrote for Monica for her birthday!

The walk from the park where they held Jimin’s “surprise” birthday party is a full twenty minutes but Jimin is still giggling at the smear of cake down the side of Yoongi’s face, courtesy of him, when they walk through the door. He laughs harder at Yoongi’s weak scowl that fails to hide the smile he’s fighting when Jimin leans in to kiss off some of the frosting.

Keep reading

Coffee With Labels

Hi everyone! My friend, Anna ( pandaanna01 ) wrote a Oneshot (phan obvs). I told her I would post it for her. Thanks for reading xx ( PS her authors note at the end)

Title: Coffee With Labels

Genre: fluff omg so much you will die

TW: none

Word count: 1.5k

Beta: phunwithphan

Labels: they’re both good and bad, depending on what they’re applied to. They’re amazing when put on inanimate objects to help you remember and sort them accordingly. On the contrary, when applied to people, they are horribly useless, and are the things that either ruin people, or give them big ego boosts. They are used to identify matter.

The last bell had rang only a few seconds ago, yet all the desks but one had been abandoned as the last few students were trailing out the door. As the last (or second to last) student stepped out the door, Dan finally started packing up his materials, as slowly as he dared, and stood up. Shuffling towards the door, he heard his teacher sigh.

“Daniel, I realise that you dislike most of the school’s population, and some of them dislike you too, but you understand that you can not stay in my classroom forever, right? You will have to leave this classroom eventually.”

“I wish that I could, though,” muttered Dan under his breath, knowing the teacher couldn’t hear him. “Yes Miss Jackson, I know. But I can always hope” he said, facing the teacher to speak to her. He looked at the door and begrudgingly stepped towards it again. After having taken several steps, Miss Jackson seemingly appeared by his side and placed a hand on his shoulder, making him jump.

[AN: I was listening to Panic! At The Disco whilst writing that paragraph]

“I know that you absolutely despise stepping outside of this classroom, as it makes you feel unsafe, but you know that you probably won’t see a single one of them once you guys graduate,” she said, a smile playing at her usually frowning lips.

Dan nodded his head at her and walked into the hall, noticing that they were empty, and breathed a sigh of relief. Deciding that he wasn’t going to stop by his locker, as he already had all the materials that he needed in his backpack, he continued walking.

As he reached his house though, he went rigid. His parents were going at each other again, arguing about useless things and then falling into each other’s arms, sobbing and asking for forgiveness. That wasn’t what made Dan turn the other way though. It was his older brother’s car in the driveway, which meant that his brother (and his brother’s girlfriend) were home. Dan didn’t mind his brother’s girlfriend, she was super nice to him and really nerdy, but he and his brother didn’t have the best relationship. Cole, his brother, was a total asshole and definitely didn’t deserve Romy, his girlfriend.

Walking away from his house, he made the executive decision to go to what felt like his second home, or his home away from home, if you will. Zoe’s Coffee and Café, which smelled of vanilla and something else, and was comfortably lit, making the whole place feel very home-like.

Just as Dan had settled into a booth by a large window overlooking a small, peaceful pond, and a few sheets of homework were scattered onto the table surface, someone slid into the seat opposite of him. Dan looked up, startled, and opened his mouth to tell the person to go and sit at another table, before he realised who it was.


“That’s my name.” She grinned at him, though concern shone in her eyes. “Are you alright? What happened at school today? You didn’t even get your usual coffee.”

Dan recalled the events from school earlier. The arrogant populars had chosen to call him out about his sexual preference, yet again making fun of his brightly coloured clothing, being the homophobic/racist/sexist twats they were. Jesus christ (and Dan wasn’t even religious), it was the twenty-first century.

“’M alright. Nothing much happened today, which is nice. Steve and Tom decided to call me a faggot again during lunch again, much to my amusement, as a faggot is a bundle of sticks, and Elizabeth, or Eliza as she prefers, decided that she disliked me wearing colours that she wore often.” He finished with a sigh. “Coffee sounds nice,” he added, with a hopeful smile, sinking back into the seat.

“Caramel macchiato, as always, right?”-Dan nodded-“And don’t worry, it’s on the house, you’re having a bad day. I’ll give Phil your order.”

Dan was slightly confused, as the usual barista was named Joe, Zoe’s younger brother by a year. Curious, he looked up and directed his line of sight to the counter. Joe was replaced by a younger boy, who seemed to be only a few years older than himself. He had a fringe similar to his own, but “Phil’s” was black (although he thought he could just barely make out some lighter roots of some sort). Dan was a brunette, and not extremely tan, but he wasn’t super pale, however, Phil was definitely many shades lighter than himself.

Dan blushed slightly when ‘Phil’ turned around with his drink, and noticed that he had gorgeous blue eyes. They reminded him of the ocean, and Dan felt like he was drowning in the colour.
'Phil’ was amazingly and painfully cute, and Dan could feel himself swooning over the boy’s gorgeous appearance. (Dan was bisexual, though he had a preference for boys).

Phil smiled at him, making his insides melt. As 'Phil’ made his way towards his booth, Dan made himself seem busy by burying his head in his homework, rereading what he wrote about labels earlier in class.

“And who should this amazingly made caramel macchiato be made for?”

Dan looked up surprised and blushed, not expecting the voice to be so… Intoxicating. Catching sight of his name tag, he determined that it definitely read Phil. “The name’s Dan, Phil.”
Phil wrote a few things down on the side of the cup, more than just Dan’s name for sure, and gave it too him.

“I’d love to stay and talk Dan, but I have a long line of fans waiting to get my special autograph in the form of a coffee of their choice.” Phil casted a glance at the nonexistent line. “Or not. I guess it’s not rush hour right now. You might not want your coffee to get cold though, so I suggest you to drink it.”

Dan snapped out of his daydream of the black haired blue eyed beauty, and stuttered out an “Oh yeah, right. Coffee. Thanks Phil.” Looking at the cup, Dan noticed that Phil had gone back behind the counter and was talking to Zoe, blushing like mad. Curiosity was gnawing at his insides, so he took a peek at the side of his cup, noticing that a number was written on the side with the words, you better not be a stalker, Dan.

Dan immediately pulled out his phone, added Phil into his contacts with ☕ (coffee emoji) next to it, and texted Phil: I swear I’m not a stalker, I’m only a Dan.
Phil, after suggesting to Dan to actually drink his coffee, quickly escaped back to the counter.

“So, Dan…” Phil jumped at the sudden suggestive voice.

“Jeez, Zoe. Please try not to give me a heart attack next time.” Phil placed a hand over his heart dramatically whilst he blushed harshly.

“If you do date Dan, I know that you fancy him, you have for a while.”-Phil started shaking his head-“Phil, you take your break when you see him walk by and into the café, it’s pretty obvious.”
“It really is,” Louise butted in from the back, “even Joe and I have noticed.”

“Really, mate,” Joe added.

“As I was saying, if you do date Dan, be careful, he gets a bit of bullying at school and from his brother, and I know that you have been bullied too. Oh, and he loves flower crowns. That reminds me, wait a second there Phil.” Zoe went into the backroom.

Phil’s phone vibrated against his leg, signalling a text.

Dan: I swear I’m not a stalker, I’m only a Dan.

Phil looked up at Dan and smiled, resulting in a pink colour spreading like wildfire over the brown haired boy’s cheeks.

Zoe came back out holding a white and light blue coloured flower crown. “Here, give this to Dan, I know he’ll love it. I don’t care whether or not you say if it’s from me.”

Dan looked at his phone again, seeing that Phil had texted him back.

Phil: I’ll take your word for it then. Do you want to go to the park tonight and watch the stars? xx

Feeling the presence of another person beside him, Dan turned to face them.

“So, is that a yes then?”

“Of course, Phil, why wouldn’t it be?” Dan remarked, blushing madly. Phil looked like a tomato and Dan could guess he looked like one too.

“Here, a gift from Zoe. I feel bad for not having a rose to accompany my date request, so this, even though it’s from Zoe, will suffice.” Phil said, his face still resembling a tomato.

“Phil, you didn’t have to.”

“Well then, see you tonight, under the stars, at the little park just down the road. Please arrive around six, so we could maybe catch the sunset too.” Phil winked as he walked away. Dan blushed profusely, and arranged the flower crown on his head, smiling, thinking about Phil.

Labels wouldn’t even be able to apply to what Dan and Phil would become in the future, but for right now, the term 'lovers,’ would suffice.


A/N: I realise that this could have easily been a chaptered fic, but I feel too tired and lazy to write multiple parts to this. Also, I’m typing it on my phone. I have no idea what on earth I’m doing.

Everyone ships AkaKuro

Rating - T+(??)

Premise - Rival teachers Akashi and Kuroko are shipped by the entire student population because of their unresolved sexual tension. And hey, their names sound nice together.

Guys, this is for you. For following me, for liking my fics, for reblogging them, because even though I’m (very) insecure about publishing them, every like, every reblog with comments like ‘this was good’ makes me smile and inspires me to write more. So people, this fic is a thank you for ALL of you, all my followers. Thank you again, for everything! This is dedicated to anyone who ships AkaKuro, because really, we need more AkaKuro! :D

I think this may be OOC, so tell me if it is. I don’t know, I can’t imagine them bickering but, they’re both so competitive, so - /jumps off a cliff after writing OOC fanfiction/


“Sensei, I believe you are in the wrong classroom?” A smooth voice questioned, and Kuroko had to struggle to keep his expression straight.

“Akashi-sensei, I believe it’s you who’s in the wrong classroom. My schedule here, clearly mentions that I’m the one who’s supposed be in class 2-A the first period after lunch.”

Akashi gave him a sharp smile, one that managed to simultaneously steal his breath away and infuriate him at the same time.

Kuroko was a normally very level-headed individual, so it was a testament to how much he found Akashi Seijuurou irritating when he began counting up to ten everytime he saw that smug face.

Keep reading

Hug Me, I’m Scared

In which your nightmares lead to rare cuddles and yes the title is based on Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared

Jin/Seokjin: You wake up to someone shaking you, your name repeated over and over until you blink blearily up at your boyfriend. For a second there’s desperation in Seokjin’s eyes, but once he sees you’re awake he gets a little flustered.

“You—you wouldn’t stop whimpering,” he explains, and as you think back on your dream with a shudder, you’re more than grateful he woke you up.

He looks like he wants nothing more than to hug you, and with the state you’re in you’re not about to deny him the gesture, so you do it for him, wrap your arms around his waist and bury your head in his chest so that the only thing he can do is return the motion, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I was really worried,” he murmurs, and you tug him so that you’re both lying on the bed, your form sprawled across his, and he doesn’t protest, just starts to idly stroke your hair, twist it through his fingers, and you manage a tiny smile up at him in thanks.

“Want to talk?” he asks, and you try, you do, but you can’t force the words from your lips, can’t voice your dream for fear it comes to life, and Seokjin sees this quickly. “Never mind, then.”

He’s quiet momentarily, and the only sounds you hear are his breathing and the thump of his heartbeat through his thin shirt. You close your eyes with a sigh, let the steady beat provide something to focus on other than the twisting black images of your dream, envelop yourself in the familiarity of his presence. This is how you remain for a minute or two, the constant gentle touch of his fingers in your hair calming you, until you’re breathing in sync with him and the most relaxed you can remember being for a while, until finally, leaning into the touch of his hands, you drift off again, head on his chest, draped across him.

The next morning you wake to an empty bed, the sheets not yet properly cold from where Seokjin was, and you sit up to peer around the room in the morning light.

A moment later you register the reason he’s gone; the smell of your favorite food fills the room, wafting in from the kitchen, and you smile to yourself.

And then Seokjin pops his head into the room, bright eyed and still in his pajamas, hair a bit rumpled, and the smile he gives you is brighter than the sunshine streaming in through the windows. 

“Morning,” he says cheerfully, and you slide out of bed to walk up to him. “Ready for breakfast?” When you nod and move to leave the room he slips an arm around you and presses a quick good-morning kiss to the tip of your nose before leading you to the kitchen.

Suga/Yoongi: You wake up crying, your breath coming in hiccupping sobs, the blankets somehow tangled hopelessly around your legs. You try desperately to calm down, but you can’t, just can’t, air catching in your throat as you try for deep breaths.

At last you climb from the bed and pad over to where Yoongi sleeps, twisting the hem of your shirt with both hands, and pause.

He’s peaceful, so peaceful, the hint of a smile on his face and the ever-present worry gone from his features, and you’re not sure you should disturb him. You’re being an idiot and should definitely just go into the kitchen and take a minute to calm down, but the sobs won’t stop and the force of them scares you a bit, so you shake him gently.

He stirs slightly with a mumble of protest, and it’s not until you say his name and your voice breaks that his eyes open, but when they do he’s worried.

“Y/N?” he asks, and the sleep vanishes pretty quickly from his face. “Is everything okay?”

There’s a beat of silence as you try to get your thoughts together, but finally you just shake your head desperately and can’t hide your tears so he sits up and pulls you down to him and into a hug. The motion startles a quiet squeak out of you but you can’t stop crying.

He asks you several times what’s wrong, if you can explain, but as you twist your hands into his shirt and he sees the strength of the sobs that tear from your throat he comes to understand you can’t explain, so he stops asking and just holds you. His fingers stroke their way through your hair, trace patterns into your back, and, encased in his strong arms, you slowly begin to calm down.

It’s not even that you’re truly calmer, just that the extent of your crying has left you exhausted, and the safety of Yoongi’s embrace helps to chase away the emotions of your nightmare. Your sobs slow, breath quiets, and your eyes grow heavy as he continues to refuse to let you go even when you try to squirm away.

And it makes sense, you suppose; he’s not always one for physical affection, but when he is you can’t get him off of you until he wants to move.

In this case you don’t mind, and you’re nearly asleep when he shifts to stand with you in his arms and returns you gently to your bed. He pulls the blanket over you, brushes a hand through your hair one more time, and goes to leave, but you aren’t about to let the comfort of his arms go away, so you manage to latch onto his shirt and mutter something that sounds like “stay”. He laughs slightly but obliges, crawls into bed next to you, and the last thing you feel before falling asleep again is the soft kiss he presses to your forehead.

Rap Monster/Namjoon: You wake up slowly, disoriented, and for a moment you’re unable to properly tell that you’re awake now, not still in the dark hellhole you must have been dreaming about. All you can do is lie there for a minute and try not to imagine the things that could be hidden in the shadows by the closet or under the bed or behind the bookshelf or in the space where it appears your boyfriend sleeps, and too many thoughts and impossible scenarios crowd your head until you need to know it’s really Namjoon that makes that shape under the blankets.

Crossing the room is treacherous; the lingering fear means every object is a potential monster, every shadow hides a killer, but you make it to his bed without incident other than nearly having a heart attack when the fan causes a piece of paper to rustle.

Namjoon is the type to wake up fairly quickly when you shake him, though he groans and slaps at your hand a little. When he opens his eyes and finally notices the fear etched in your features, he sits up and gestures for you to sit next to him.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, and you shrug.

“Not really.”

“Talk to me, then,” he says, studying you carefully. “Bad dream?”

You nod and it’s only when he reaches out and takes one of your hands in his that you realize how badly your hands were shaking.

“It was just a dream,” he continues. “None of it was real, even if it seemed that way, and none of it can hurt you now. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Then why am I still so afraid?” you ask, unable to stop the frustration that creeps into your voice.

“Because endorphins last longer than neurotransmitters.” He smiles a little. “Science. They take longer to leave your system, so their feelings last longer. They will fade—already are, I bet, you just can’t quite tell.”

Of course Namjoon would tell you the science of it. He does so constantly, rattling off random facts to answer your rhetorical questions, but the explanation does make sense, so you sigh and lean against him. He stiffens in surprise momentarily—your relationship hasn’t been very touchy—but recovers quickly to wrap an arm around you. There’s a pause as you get used to this, and then you sigh again and look up at him.

“Can I sleep with you tonight? You can science away the rest of my problems.” He laughs and nods, so you wriggle your way under the covers and then flinch at the touch of his cold feet. “Why must your toes be so cold?” you complain, and he takes a breath to launch into an explanation of that.

“Never mind, never mind,” you say hastily. “Forget I asked.”

Again there’s a quiet laugh, and with a tired smile you think the endorphins must have faded away because every bit of your fear is gone as you curl into Namjoon’s chest and fall asleep.

J-Hope/Hoseok: You wake up screaming, wide-eyed and frantic, and it doesn’t take long for Hoseok to cross the room and completely ignore the fact that physical affection hasn’t really been a part of your relationship before he yanks you into a hug.

You’re shaking and inches away from screaming again before the terror of your dream fades, but Hoseok only hugs you for a moment before pulling away again. This disappoints you slightly; his embrace was reassuring of your safety.

But his next move is to pull an exaggerated pouty face and make a weird but rather cute noise and it startles a smile from you, which gets him to smile.

Of course, you’re no stranger to aegyo; it’s impossible to be, around Hoseok and the maknaes of the group as much as you are, but he doesn’t usually use it on you, but when the stupid faces he makes are undeniably cute and you realize they’re helping you to calm down, distracting you from the fear left over from your dream, you make no effort to stop him.

Hoseok can see the effect it has on you, because the aegyo only gets more aggressive, until you’re surprised he can make any other noise than the tiny little mewls and for the first time you notice how quickly he can go from the exaggerated pout to the grin that melts your heart every time you see it, and he blows you kisses and pokes the tip of your nose childishly.

“Don’t be scared,” he whines, peering up at you through his eyelashes, eyes big and his bottom lip stuck out. You give up on any idea that the fear of your dream remains and laugh, catch the kiss he sends you and press it to your heart.

“I won’t be if you stay,” you reply, and he starts to cheer, but stops when you continue. “Your aegyo might just be scarier than my dream.”

“What?” He’s mock-offended, hands on his heart and enough betrayal written on his face that you may as well have just killed his family. You grin at him and lie down, motioning for him to do the same next to you.

“I love it, but really, some of those faces could scar someone for life.” He scoffs but wraps his arms around you, tugs you into his chest.

“But I’m your hope.” You can hear the laughter in his voice, but at the same time the statement rings sincere, and you can’t really deny it when his unstoppable sunniness often is the reason for your smile when you’re tired or stressed.

“Well, right now I just hope I can get back to sleep,” you reply.

“You will,” he promises, kisses your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips, and then lets you curl in closer to him, and it takes no time at all for you to get back to sleep.

This took a disgustingly long time I am so so sorry for that, it just caught me at a really bad time. When you requested it I was right at the start of show week for a theatre performance we were not at all ready for and then last weekend was the actual show and then this week started musical rehearsals that will be going on until late January although I should have time this week and over Christmas. Anyway, I finally managed to get these written, so again I apologize for how long it took and as usual, I hope it lives up to your expectations!


Written for oncielover1 using one of their scenarios from here. Hunter AU, human!Bill, Deerper, no shipping (using the term ‘fawn’ because this Deerper is 13). It occurred to me that some of the artwork suggests an AU in which Bill isn’t aware of who Dipper is upon finding him and may or may not be fully human; I took the middleground with that. Also Bill isn’t very nice to him at first but he’s canonically a jerk half the time anyway so that’s to be expected.  


(I’m sorry if it’s kinda mediocre still recovering from writer’s block!)

The timeworn human expression regarding spring showers might have been a bit of a tired cliche, but not unfounded. The tail end of April in Oregon brought its fair share of rain, ranging from the light drizzle that settled over the woods and unleashed the earthy odor of petrichor to torrential downpours that turned the soil to unhospitable mush and sent all the game in the area running for shelter (making hunting difficult for a couple of days) to outright electrical storms that rattled the windows of the cabin with every loud crack of thunder and sharp flash of lightning. The latter weren’t common, although they served merely as an inconvenience for the hunter occupying the rather immaculate log cabin deep in the woods a couple of miles away from the town limits of Gravity Falls they now paved the way for another kind of annoyance. 

The sound was muffled by the floorboards, but for someone with senses like Bill’s it remained distinct among the other ambient noises that accompanied a house settling. 

The damn kid was crying again. 

This wasn’t anything new or unexpected. Over the past three weeks of the young cervitaur fawn he’d stumbled across wandering around in the woods unwillingly occupying his basement there had obviously been quite a bit of crying – once the inclination to outright rebel or attack him with hooves that were cute but actually packed a hefty punch passed. He didn’t want to physically harm the fawn too badly if only because he seemed pretty fragile and doing so would be a waste of time; threats, isolation, and withholding food and water were just as effective when the need arose. 

When it became apparent that he couldn’t fight his way out of the hunter’s possession the crying started. It was a definite reminder of the kid’s humanity, alongside the litany of pleas to be allowed to return to his family. Actual deer ran until cornered and fought until you shot them in the head. The kid’s primal instinct to do so had exhausted itself, leaving behind a worn out and terrified teenager cringing and cowering whenever Bill approached him.

The crying continued to the point where the sound finally stopped being hilarious and began to grate on his nerves. The frequency diminished somewhat after dragging the kid to the nearby lake and threatening to drown him in it if he didn’t shut the fuck up and get used to his new home. The fawn tried his best, but late at night when he was locked away by himself in the dark Bill could hear him sobbing his little heart out. 

He didn’t want to admit it, but he was beginning to feel the slightest hint of guilt over treating the kid so badly. At first the negligence had come as punishment for trying to escape or being insolent, progressing to the same gleeful sense of power one obtained from cornering a rabbit and staring it down until the creature’s heart gave up and stopped altogether. Inspiring fear was slightly more fun than the actual kill itself, and the kid was definitely fun to scare the shit out of. 

For awhile. 

Earlier that night the fawn had been incredibly apprehensive; Bill suspected that the change in humidity forewarned him of the coming storm, leading him to beg to be allowed to sleep upstairs instead of being locked in the basement alone again as he always did with an incoming thunderstorm. The request went ignored as usual, although the rain had already begun to fall when he chained the brat to the wall and turned out the lights. 

Now, sprawled out on the sofa poring through the journal the kid had on him when the hunter took him down (an odd tome of supernatural and occult entries that seemed strangely familiar), he could hear the fawn in the basement, and the unbidden mental image of the kid curled up in a ball shivering with every thunderclap that roared overhead invaded his consciousness. The twinge of guilt reasserted itself, causing an unfamiliar clench in the pit of his stomach. 

The urge to storm down the stairs and tell the brat to can it or he’d chain him to a tree out in the rain came and went, and with every passing second the sensation intensified. 

Thus far he’d made a point of not using the kid’s name, although he knew it by now. Dipper. To the world outside of the woods the fawn had a name, but here, that name was filed away out of sight for the time being. The first mistake any hunter could make after foregoing killing a catch and deciding to keep it around for awhile was naming it. It made things personal, forged a connection between prey and predator that set both on equal planes of existence, and thus made it much harder to put a bullet in their skull when the novelty of pet ownership wore off or the situation called for another use. Everyone had to eat. 

He knew he was making a pretty big mistake, then, when he made his way down into the basement, boots clumping upon the wooden stairs and announcing his presence (the kid had to have heard him but he was likely too far gone in his terror to silence himself). The kid - no, Dipper - was huddled in the corner, whimpering. He clutched the blue and white baseball cap he now wore continually, as if it were a remaining token of his former home, and lay on his stomach sobbing piteously. 

Bill sighed, pressing a gloved palm to his face. Damn it.

Dipper noticed him then, chain clinking against the floor while he folded himself flush against the wall, biting his lip. The hunter regarded him carefully, mulling over the big freaking mistake he was about to make. 

Fuck it.

Dipper withdrew further as Bill leaned down to remove the chain fastened to his collar, then lifted the fawn into his arms. It wasn’t the first time he’d touched him, but for once the hunter actually felt the soft, fine fur brushing against his skin and acknowledged the warmth radiating from the shuddering body that was now tense, fearful brown eyes staring at him with pupils shrunken into mere pinpricks. The fawn’s teeth dug into his lip, suppressing what might have been either more tears or biting back a scream. 

“I’m not going to drop you, kid. Chill.” The words didn’t calm the fawn down any, but he did relax a bit, grabbing hold of Bill’s forearms and gingerly resting his head against his chest while the hunter headed back upstairs, surprised at how light he was. Maybe he really was underfeeding him. The guilt flared up again, refusing to leave him be. 

The sound of the rain splattering against the glass was louder in the main room, and the lights were down to give the generator a rest. In lieu of artificial lighting a small heap of lumber blazed in the fireplace, providing a fair amount of illumination. Bill carried the fawn to the sofa silently, depositing him on the well-worm cushion and reaching for a nearby blanket. Dipper glanced up at him questioningly, clearly confused by the sudden change of heart. Bill didn’t have an answer for him. 

The fawn settled beneath the blanket as the hunter draped it over his trembling body, still unsure as to whether to leave him there or not. He knew Dipper was definitely unlikely to try to escape with the thunderstorm raging on outside, but it still didn’t feel right leaving him there. Hell, none of this felt right, given that he knew good and damn well that his moral compass was more of a corkscrew than anything else, but the unpleasant feeling lingered. A brief flash of electric blue lit up the room of a fraction of a second, and Dipper’s ears slicked back against his head. 

…yeah, fuck it.

Bill lowered himself onto the sofa beside the fawn, looking over at him in a manner that he hoped was inviting and patting his lap somewhat awkwardly. He wasn’t exactly sure how to make his face do the whole comforting expression thing, and the sharp teeth that accompanied his smile probably didn’t help any. Dipper watched him warily, torn between keeping his distance and accepting the much welcome affection and human contact after a couple of weeks without it for the most part. 

Nature decided to step in, then; a particularly loud thunderclap boomed from directly above the cabin, shaking the thankfully sturdy structure and sending the kid – Dipper, his name is Dipper – hurtling across the sofa into his arms again. The tears were rolling once more, and for once the hunter let him cry it out without interruption or growing irritated, removing the cap with the pine tree printed on it (that wasn’t a bad nickname, really) so he could run his fingers through his hair soothingly, occasionally stroking the delicate ears that finally relaxed beneath his touch. He didn’t say anything, because he couldn’t think of anything to say, and the weather provided enough auditory accompaniment that words weren’t necessary anyway. The fawn grew calmer and less tense, and eventually the tears dampening Bill’s trousers came to a halt as he grew heavier in his lap, drifting off to sleep. 

This was definitely a mistake, but with the fawn lightly snoring in his lap, cheek pressed against his stomach and his face still glistening in the firelight Bill decided he didn’t care. 

That seemed to be the theme for the night, anyway. 

He wiped the tears from Dipper’s cheeks and repositioned the blanket, careful not to disturb him, then resumed petting the slumbering fawn and listening to the thunder roll until he nodded off as well.