but you can't curl up with it on a cold night

The signs as: their places in the modern world
  • Aries: You're not sure how you feel about most sports, but you can't help but to watch them when they run. They kick off so hard that they seem to almost fly through the beginning of the race. They're always wearing some form of red. Their hair is a curly mess and when you try to smooth it down you feel something sharp break the skin on your hand. They look at you. Their eyes are glinting gold.
  • Taurus: You catch sight of them sometimes, lounging outside small bakeries and cafes. The air seems to move a little slower around them, thick and cloying like honey. Your watch has stopped. Everything is calm and warm, but when you leave the sun is already setting. You only stopped by for a pastry.
  • Gemini: You notice them sometimes at the entrances of side streets and tiny alleys, standing side by side. Their hair is dyed outrageous colours and spiked like a hedgehog. The one who is grinning at you beckons you closer, but behind them the one who is frowning desperately shoos you away.
  • Cancer: You go to the library early one morning,sleep deprived,half dead and yet absurdly over stimulated from coffee. All the reference books have been loaned out. A librarian, a little smaller than the rest, emerges from nowhere and hands you a copy. There are indents in the cover and for a second you think you see claws hidden in the sleeves of their sweater. Their eyes glisten. You're too intimidated to ask how they got this book.
  • Leo: They seem to show up in the strangest of places. On rooftops, in trees, curled up in a shopping trolley that has been abandoned in the street. Cats follow them everywhere. Your cat has been missing for the past week. You think it has joined the crowd that follows them. They flash you a smile that speaks of war. You know then that you would follow them too. Their smile says that you might have to.
  • Virgo: You've lost your friend at a party. Your head pounds to the beat of the music. The creepy 40 something year old that nobody invited has been tracking your movements. As you start to panic a cool hand slips into yours. A silky voice tells you to look away from him. You dance and everything seems more intense somehow. On your way home you find a slip of paper in your pocket. On it is written a telephone number. It disintegrates as you add it into your contacts.
  • Libra: You're feeding pigeons on the boardwalk when you see them. They're crawling low to the ground and you're not sure why anyone would want to do that among the mess of fish hooks and tangled lines. A group of boys are throwing their rubbish into the river. You catch a glimpse of them pouring mud and fish heads into the boys socks. The boys don't seem to notice. When you take your shoes off you find a five dollar bill scrunched up in the bottom.
  • Scorpio: You're pretty sure that job interviews aren't supposed to be this terrifying, especially not for part time work at a fast food venue. You earn only ice cold stares from them until they see your references. Then they give you a strange smile that sends your heart soaring and plummeting simultaneously. They tell you that you'll fit in here. You just wonder whether you'll be able to get out. When you pull away from a handshake they leave the impression of claws on your palm.
  • Sagittarius: You're on a bus and the sun is going down when you sit next to them. They ask you where you're going and you tell them. They ask you why. You give a much more honest answer than you had expected to. You find yourself trying to justify the actions that have led you to this point. They hum along thoughtfully. You're already at your stop. The bus is empty except for the two of you. You could have sworn that it was full when you boarded, but yours has been the only stop. You turn to wave as you leave but now the seat is bare.
  • Capricorn: You're grocery shopping and you don't usually make a habit of talking to anyone when you do so, but your eyes lock over the frozen produce. You realise that you're crying. The two of you sit down in the isle. No one tells you not to. The store is strangely quiet, the hum of the lights and refrigerator behind you the only constant factors. You leave with several dubious pieces of life advice and an excellent recipe for fried chicken. as you turn your key in the lock of your door you realise that they know your life story, but you don't even know their name.
  • Aquarius: You're at a target late at night looking for something that you can't quite name. Nothing seems right. A shop attendant behind you agrees. They lead you through the racks into an area that you have never been in before. Dark things dart between the shelves. They point to an item on the shelf. It is slowly growing. It's perfect. As you leave you glance behind you but the lights are off inside. You check the open hours. It closed hours ago. You check your receipt. It's a plain piece of paper covered only by a shaky drawing of an eye and a price.
  • Pisces: You have a foggy memory of a summer camp attended years ago. They were attending too. They always stood a little away from the other kids, the counselors never spoke to them. They showed you secret places hidden behind brambles and stinging nettles. You weren't quite sure how they got through spaces that were so much smaller than their body. On your final day they pressed a tiny golden pendant into your hand. The rest of the memory has faded. You ask your parents about it but they tell you that you have never been to summer camp. The pendant is still in your top drawer. It feels warm to the touch.
Preference: You Can't Sleep

Ashton: Hearing footsteps softly coming towards the kitchen, you sigh. You hadn’t meant to wake him up, really. A very sleepy looking Ashton leans against the kitchen doorframe, frowning when he sees you. “Can’t sleep again?” He asks, yawning a little. “Go back to bed, I’ll be okay.” He shakes his head. “Baby, you need to see a doctor or something. This is like, the fourth night you’ve had trouble sleeping.” He pauses, then his eyes widen. “Is it… is it me?” He asks. “What? No, Ash, it’s not you. I just can’t fall asleep.” You assure him, walking over. He pulls you into a light hug, resting his forehead against your own. “Then what? Tell me, so I can help.” You sigh. “There’s honestly nothing wrong.” You say. Ashton walks over and starts to make coffee. “What are you doing?” You ask. “If you can’t sleep, I’ll stay awake with you until you can.” You smile a little. “Ashton, go back to bed. You’re tired.” Ashton frowns again. “Yeah, but I can’t sleep if you’re not there. The bed gets cold.” He says. You walk over and wrap your arms around him. “How about we just go cuddle?” He thinks about this for a moment, then shakes his head. “How about we go watch movies and cuddle until you fall asleep?” You sigh, feeling blessed to have such a man in your life. “I’m sorry, I know this is getting annoying.” Ashton takes his face in your hands. “Baby, no! It’s not annoying. It’s just more time I get to spend with you.” He murmurs, kissing your nose. “Yeah, but less time you get to sleep.” Ashton shrugs, pulling you into the living room while asking, “who needs sleep, anyway?”

Calum: You roll over for what seems like the millionth time. Calum sighs, sitting up. “Babe, what’s wrong?” He asks. You sit up and turn on the bedside lamp. “I don’t know. I just can’t sleep.” He frowns, moving some hair away from your face. “Want me to sing to you?” He asks. You nod, curling into his side as he sings a soft tune. “Anything?” He asks when the song is over. You groan and shake your head. “You should go back to sleep. You need it.” You tell him, biting your lip. “I’m not going to sleep when my girl isn’t.” He says stubbornly, but a yawn slips out. You smirk and he chuckles. “Okay, I’m tired. So what?” You roll your eyes. “So, I’m not going to be like Michael and force you to stay awake. Sleep, babe.” You say, reaching over to turn out the light. “Is there anything that’s bothering you? Maybe you just need to talk about it.” Calum says, pulling you into a spooning position. “No, not that I can think of. You’re home, the boys are home. Everything is perfect.” Calum runs his fingertips over your stomach lightly, making you shiver. “What about the hate? Have you been reading it lately?” You shake your head. “Not since the last time you told me not to.” Calum frowns, not being able to figure out what’s wrong with the love of his life. Then it hits him. “Babe?” He asks. “Yes, Cal?” You reply. “When is the last time we… you know?” He asks, chuckling. You roll over onto your back. “It’s been awhile, I guess. Why?” You ask, watching as he gets up and walks to the end of the bed. He grabs your ankles and pulls you until your cute plaid pajama shorts meet his eyes up close. “Calum, what are you doing? The boys are downstairs sleeping. They could hear us.” You protest, but he yanks off your shorts and underwear. “I don’t give a fuck who hears. I’m taking the edge off so my baby girl can sleep. I’m going to fuck you so good until you’re too tired to fuck anymore.”

Luke: Staying in multiple hotel rooms had its benefits, but it also had its problems. Problem number one being that eventually, they all just began to feel like home. So when you and Luke actually did come home from tour, sleeping in your own bed was very difficult for you. Even with Luke by your side every night, the bed just didn’t feel like home anymore. And this night was no different. You get out of bed and walk to the bathroom, hoping you won’t wake Luke up. You splash water on your face, and when you look up, Luke is standing behind you. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.” You mumble, turning to face him. “You know, splashing water on your face is just going to make falling asleep harder.” Luke tells you. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. This bed used to be my everything, second to you. And now I can’t even sleep on it.” You complain, crossing the short distance between the two of you and hugging him. “Princess, nothing’s wrong with you. You’ve just been staying in so many hotels that you forgot what your own bed feels like. C'mon, I’ll help you.” Luke pulls you back into bed and pulls you into his side, holding you close. “You know what I really want right now?” You ask. “What’s that, princess?” You look up at him. “That bed on that hotel room we stayed at in Italy. The one that had the purple pillows? Oh, I loved that bed.” You say softly. “That bed had some pretty nice things happen on it.” Luke mutters, smirking as he remembers the night involving whipped cream and strawberries. You giggle. He rubs your back lightly until you fall asleep, but that doesn’t happen for another few hours. The next day, when you come back from visiting friends, the bed from the hotel room in Italy is in your bedroom.

Michael: While Michael has been known to have some insomnia, you did not. You could sleep all day, every day. Or at least, you used to be able to sleep all day, every day. For some reason, that all changed one night. You just couldn’t fall asleep. You tried sleeping in bed and on the living room couch, but nothing helped. And unfortunately, Michael had cured his insomnia when the band went on a break. Well, that’s not unfortunate. That’s a great thing. But for you, it was unfortunate because that meant while he was asleep, you were wide awake. The roles had been reversed. You look over at your sleeping boyfriend, hearing his light snores fill the silence of your bedroom. You bite your lip and tap his cheek lightly. “Mike, wake up.” After repeating this a few times, the bleached blonde’s eyes flutter open. “What? What’s the matter, kitten?” He asks urgently. “Nothing. I just… I can’t fall asleep.” He props himself up with his hand. “Wanna talk about anything that bothered you today?” He asks. “See, that’s the thing. It isn’t just tonight. I haven’t been sleeping for weeks.” You confess. “Kitten, why didn’t you tell me?” He reaches over and strokes your cheek gently. “You were sleeping great. I didn’t want to ruin that.” Michael frowns. “You wouldn’t have ruined it. But you should have told me, I could’ve helped sooner.” He says. You nod. He sings to you softly for a few hours until your asleep. The next morning, Michael goes to the store and buys everything that’s related to helping a person sleep better just for you.

“Can’t Sleep”

A crack SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Countdown

“Why are you still up?”

Simon froze.  He’d assumed Baz would be asleep by now.

“Studying,” he mumbled, “in the library.”

           Baz didn’t say anything more, so Simon tiptoed across the room and into the bathroom to get ready for bed.  His head was swimming with essay nonsense.  He hadn’t expected Penny to keep him there that long.  And anyway, he’d figured Baz would still be who-knows-where and wouldn’t be in the room to see him come in.

           A few minutes later Simon emerged from the bathroom and flopped onto his bed.  Baz seemed to be asleep, or at least he didn’t say anything.  Simon crawled under the covers and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.  He didn’t seem to be able to close his eyes.  Or he could, but not properly.  They didn’t stay closed.  His mind was still too awake.  He turned over and tried to get comfortable, forced his eyes shut.  Quiet thoughts, he chanted in his head, sleepy thoughts.  But everything he thought of turned to words, and all the words were strung together like something out of a very surreal dictionary.  He flopped onto his other side.  The words prattled on like strings of code.

           Finally, he simply sat up in bed.  This wasn’t working.  He bunched up his pillow in his lap and leaned on it.  His head hung forward, curls falling in front of his eyes. It wasn’t that he wasn’t tired, he was exhausted.  Any position would have been comfortable right now.  But his brain wasn’t having it.

           “What are you doing?”

           Simon jumped at Baz’s curious voice.

           “Just can’t sleep.”  He waited for Baz to retort with something along the lines of well neither can I with all the racket you’re making.  But the scathing reply didn’t come.

           Instead, Baz sat up, too.  

           “What’s wrong?” he murmured.

           Okay, this is weird.

           “I can’t turn my brain off.”

           “That’s new, normally you can’t turn your brain on.

           There it was.

           “Sorry,” Baz muttered, “I don’t know why I said that.”

           “You must be tired.  I was expecting an insult much earlier.”  

           Then Baz did something Simon wasn’t expecting: he smiled.  It was hard to see, but it was there.

           He had a nice smile, when it was genuine. Soft and shy.  It made Simon smile, too.

           “It’s also kind of cold in here,” he added.

           “Three guesses why.”

           Simon shrugged unapologetically.  He had left the window open again.  He always left the window open.  It was closed now, thanks to Baz no doubt, but their room hadn’t had a chance to warm up yet.

           “Just go back to sleep,” Simon told him.  “I’ll be fine.”

           Baz was quiet for a minute.  A long minute.  It wouldn’t have felt so long if the air hadn’t been charged with something unsaid.  It made Simon curious, because he felt sure that he had nothing to say.  

           So what did Baz want to say?

           “You alright?” Simon asked.

           Baz thought for a second longer, then pulled back a corner of his covers and glanced shyly up at Simon.

           “What?” Simon stammered.

           “You said you were cold.” Baz was so quiet he was almost unintelligible.

           What the heck was going on?  Simon hated Baz and Baz hated Simon.  That had always been their relationship.  Maybe it wasn’t one that Simon enjoyed or got much validation from, but that was just them. And what’s more, Baz was undoubtedly the meaner of the two of them, never hesitating to hit Simon exactly where he knew it would hurt the most.

           So why in the world was Baz being nice to him?

           It’s some sort of trick.

           Shut up, Simon told himself.

           He stood.  He moved forward.

           And before he knew it, he was curled up under Baz’s covers, drowning in a warm, heady smell like Christmas.  Cedar trees and citrus.  

           Instantly his head was full of nothing but that smell, like he was drifting through a cloud of it.

           His eyes closed involuntarily, and now they stayed closed.

           “Baz?” he murmured sleepily.

           “Yes?”

           “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

           There was a pause.

           And then he felt Baz take him in his arms and draw him close.  “Me neither.”

           “Let’s stop then.”

           “We can’t.”

           “Why not?”

           Baz didn’t say anything.

           “We don’t have to fight,” Simon sighed, burying his face in the hollow of Baz’s neck.  “We could just…”

           “Just what?” Baz’s voice came from above Simon’s ears, from somewhere in his curls.

           “This.”

           In the last second before Simon drifted off, he felt Baz’s throat hum as he answered.

           “Okay.”

Chaos is a Ladder / 3

I apparently have more to say. 

Summary: Heroes do stupid things and die. Jon Snow does especially stupid things. After so much loss, she doesn’t know how she’ll bear it if he dies too. What they’re doing here, now, in her bed, that can only make it worse, but she doesn’t care. It’s too late. She might as well enjoy the pleasurable moments where she can.

Rating: M

 x-x-x-x-x

They don’t talk much on the ship.

That is to say, they don’t talk when they’re alone. They don’t talk about them, whatever it is that’s going on. They don’t talk about what happens when they arrive at Winterfell, what they’ll tell the northern lords, what they’ll tell Jon’s family.

They don’t talk about the wars that came before them, about the role his father played in seeing her family cut down, about the men her father burned. They don’t talk about what happened beyond the Wall.

They don’t talk about children, or witches, or husbands.

But those things live between them, tangible ghosts curling up on their pillows, slipping between their tangled legs and grasping fingers. She catches Jon looking at her sometimes, his brow furrowed, worry and doubt and shame cluttering his thoughts. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tell her what it is that slinks around inside his mind, but she sees it, and she knows.

Sometimes, afterwards, when they lay together listening to the waves and the creaking of the boards, he rests on his side, his palm on her belly, fingers tracing idle patterns, and she doesn’t have to ask. It isn’t hard to put two and two together – his inexperience and the way the word bastard follows him around. He grew up in a mighty house. He could have easily made his way through any number of women, but it’s plain he hasn’t. She isn’t the first. She can tell that much, but there haven’t been many before her. One, if she had to guess by the shadows in his eyes when he thinks she isn’t looking.

The last night on the ship, she asks, “Who was she?”

Keep reading

i love you but you’re turning into a moth

• you take evening walks regularly now. last night you just stood under a street light, mouth gaping, eyes wide. you were completely immobile for seven minutes until someone texted you. i was wondering where you were.
• you wake up from your fourth fever dream this week. your mind is flickering and hungry. your hair is standing completely on end.
• every morning there are more split ends. split ends split ends split ends. feathery and untamable. curling around your forehead. i can’t help you brush it out anymore.
• your ipod is filled with pulsing, oozing, 80s ballads and trickling blaring synth tracks. a stephen king audiobook or two. you don’t know how they got there. you listen with headphones and walk in anxious spirals
• neon lights accompanied by an audible buzz make you sick with a strange passion. you didn’t even blink for three minutes last night while you looked. i watched you. then you kissed me like you’ve never kissed me before and it scared me.
• i finally get you out of the house during the day for a picnic but there are butterflies and all you can whisper is “spiteful spiteful spiteful” 
stop spending our rent money on coats.
fur coats and musty old track jackets. it’s august.
• please don’t scratch on the screen door anymore. use the doorbell, knock on the doorframe or just text me for heavens sake??
• turquoise, green, brown, white, grey. dreamcatcher necklaces. shoes from the thrift store that you liked because they were “quiet” (?) they are each stitched with a crescent moon on the top. ceramic mugs with field illustrations and one with a little blue fairy. i can’t keep up
• we both know you had to quit your day job. all you do is sleep and sleep and sleep. then at night it’s right to your computer. at first it was netflix…now it’s a bleak unflinching stare at your blank desktop while you eat with your hands. i counted. 30 to 40 minutes in between each blink.
• tufts of fur missing from those fur coats. pages from your homework are torn and bitten. did you do that?
• spiders horrify you. you break into a cold sweat and then the shaking and then that scream that turns my blood to ice. please..just…sit down and i’ll take it outside
• i wish you’d tell me where you go at night. why don’t you call me? i bought a neon sign and put it outside our apartment. just call me once please

anonymous asked:

Angst, angst, AND MORE ANGST and nsfw. can I get a fic where jumin and MC are already dating. One miraculous day, jumin has a day off and they decide to go on a date. While on a date, jumin stops and stares at a really pretty girl with white hair and blue eyes (like elizabeth) and jumins thinking that he has to go talk to her. He dares to leave MC by herself and she's like, forget you jumin. And she tries to walk out of jumins life but (obviously ) she can't because he's jumin

Angst, angst, angst!!!! *Cracks knuckles* Let’s do this Anon-san! 

σ(^○^)

I’m not sure if you wanted NSFW or not…? So I’m just going to keep it SFW. 

Oh for more angst Jumin and MC are engaged in this already!


You opened your mouth as Jumin fed you another spoonful of ice cream, smiling at the sweet coolness that settled on your tongue.

“Ice cream on a warm day is always the best!” You said, opening your mouth as Jumin fed you another spoonful. 

You heard Jumin chuckle softly, “I don’t understand how something as simple as ice cream can make you so happy.”

You smiled, looking up at the clear blue sky. Jumin finally had a day off, and the two of you were spending it together on such a beautiful day. You felt like the happiest person in the world.

Jumin was smiling softly as he continued to feed you ice cream, enjoying the expressions that flickered on and off your face. Slowly, his attention wondered to something behind you, and his eyes widen slightly. 

Behind you at a small cafe, was a woman with beautiful white hair. It was tied back loosely, curls hanging at the nape of her neck. And her eyes…her eyes were a magical cornflower blue, and Jumin struggled to pull his eyes off of her.

“Elizabeth…” He whispered softly

You looked up at him, “Jumin? What is it?”

As if snapping out a trance Jumin lowered his eyes back to yours, and he smiled nervously.

“I’ll go get something to drink. Wait here for me alright?” Jumin instructed, standing from his seat as you gave him a nod and a small smile.

Jumin made his way over to the woman at the cafe table, studying her before speaking.

“Excuse me” He started

The woman looked up from her coffee, throwing him a small smile before she answered, “Yes?”

And thus their conversation had started. It wasn’t that Jumin was interested in her romantically, no he had you. But she shared so many characteristics of Elizabeth, and Jumin began to loose track of the time as he chatted with her aimlessly, studying her reactions and responses. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, your name displaying on the screen. Jumin locked his phone once more. 5 minutes, I’ll only be 5 minutes more.

o0o0o0o0o0o

4 hours. Jumin had been gone for 4 hours. The sky had turned dark and there was a night chill sweeping through the night. Where was Jumin? Worry filled you as you covered your arms, hugging yourself for warmth. You could even see your own breath! 

Jumin had told you to stay put, and you had. But he wasn’t answering his phone and no one had heard from in in the messenger. Had something happened? The only thing that had stopped your from going to search for him was the thought of if he returned only to find you gone. You two would have been on a wild goose chase.

“A-achoo!” You sneezed, sniffling as you shuddered. The weather had changed so quickly! Perhaps you should go home…wait for Jumin there with Elizabeth. Another cool blast of wind encouraged you, and you began to collect your things hurriedly. 

As you power walked out of the park you felt a sliver of unease creep up behind you. Ignoring it, you flagged down a taxi, waiting at the side of the rode for it to pull over. As you did see, you glanced across the street, the bright lights from the cafe catching your attention. What a cute cafe! You would definitely mention it to Ju-

Your heart dropped like a stone as your eyes landed on the sight of them. Jumin sat chatting with a beautiful woman, who resembled someone you knew, though you couldn’t figure out who. Jumin’s eyes were locked solely on her…and draped around her shoulders was his suit jacket. 

The night chill meant nothing to you as you felt your heart freeze solid. Jumin had left you in the cold for hours, forgetting about you completely as he hit it off with this woman! Your hand shook as you pressed your phone to your ear, your eyes never leaving the sight before you.

Jumin pulled his phone out, his eyes wide in alarm. It was this late already? He held a finger up towards the woman, 

“MC. I apologize. It’s gotten quite late and-”

“Where are you?” You asked, tears streaming down your face as you fought to keep the tremor from entering your voice. 

“Me? Ahh…right now I’m….it’s a little difficult to explain now. I’ll-” Jumin felt his heart breat increase, guilt eating at him. He hadn’t meant to spend so much here, especially since the woman was nothing like he expected. 

“Don’t worry. I know where you are.” You let a humorless laugh escape your lips as watched him stand from his seat, eyes frantic as he searched for you.

“Across the street. Where you left me…” You said, a small sob cutting into your words.

And finally, Jumin’s brown orbs met your own, freezing him in place as he took in the sight of you, tears flowing down your face, chilled to the bone.

“MC I-”

You hung up then, so hurt, so angry, so frustrated at yourself. How could you have believed that you were special? God how could you have believed in such a thing. Your fingers pulled at the cold metal that rested on your ring finger.

Jumin moves away from the table, much to the confusion of the white haired woman, alarmed at the sight before her. Jumin nearly knocks the table over as he runs out the gate calling your name.

You don’t look away as you slip the ring off your finger…and throw it into the street. It hits the concert with a dull thud, the sound echoing loud and clear in both yours, and Jumin’s ears. Wiping at your face you quickly climbed in the taxi, pushing the lock down.

Jumin slammed his hand against the window “MC!”

His breathing is raged, and the look of desperation and fear on his face cause your heart to clench in your chest. 

“Please go on to this address.” You order the driver, who watches Jumin wearily from the wheel. 

The taxi begins to move into gear, and Jumin’s heart beats into overdrive.

“MC! Please, listen to me! Don’t leave, don’t go! MC!” His hands pound at the window, and when the taxi begins to drive away he runs after it, runs after the love of his life, after you

But soon his legs give up on him, and the red tail lights of the taxi fade away. The sound of heels regain his attention. The white haired woman. She bends down in the street, picking up the deserted band from the ashes of your heart, and drops it into Jumin’s palms.

“I had no idea you were engaged.”

And then she walks away, leaving Jumin alone in the cold night air.

Eventually Jumin makes his way home, his heart aching and his soul decaying. He walks into the dark penthouse, lifeless. Elizabeth the Third brushes against his legs, and Jumin stiffens at the painful reminder of why you had gone. He pushes Elizabeth away, if only he hadn’t been enchanted by her characteristics, if only he had stayed away!

Elizabeth meows loudly, and Jumin’s anger at her melts away. No This was his own fault. He had been the one who had lost track of time, he had been the one lured in, and he had been the one to abandon you. Jumin lifted Elizabeth into his arms gently, cradling her against his chest as he slumped onto the floor. You had every right to leave him, Jumin knew that.

Yet his heart still withered in his chest as he called your phone over and over.

o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0 (Take a cry break)

3 weeks had passed, and you still hadn’t recovered from the pain in your chest. Yoosung had been the one to help you find a place to stay until you found your own footing. Of course living in his family’s small vacation home wasn’t ideal, but it gave you shelter and you were thankful. 

Since he had been the one to offer it to you, Yoosung was the only member of the RFA who knew where you were. Everyone had discovered what happened between you and him, and they tried their best to stay out of it. However it was no secret that Yoosung knew your whereabouts.  

There was a knock at the door and you smiled as you got up from the couch. Yoosung always visited you at 4. You swung the door open,

“Yoosung!” You greeted

His green eyes were closed as he responded with a wide smile.

“MC!” Yoosung greeted back. 

In his arms was a large bouquet of pink full peonies. They nearly sparkled in his hands, and he smiled at you nervously. 

“Jumin brought it over to me again…they’re for you. Again. Ah, of course there’s a letter as usual too”  

You took the bouquet from Yoosung, stepping into a room that had pretty much become your storage room, you set the bouquet inside and placed the letter on a desk. The room was filled with 21 bouquets. One for everyday.

You shut the door and looked at Yoosung in surprise when he stepped outside the door again.

“Ah, I only came to drop that off. Sorry MC! LOLOL is calling me!”, Yoosung paused before fully leaving,

“MC. Do you know Jumin always goes somewhere after work? At least that’s what Jaehee said.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone with a room filled with flowers and letters.

They didn’t all come with letters, in fact this was only the third one you had received. And of course you had read all of them. With a sigh you opened the envelope, puling at the small sheet of paper.

MC,

Are you doing alright? Yoosung tells me that you receive my letters and flowers every day. I’m glad. I’ve thought of over 100 possibilities about why you won’t send one back. And out of those 100 I’ve narrowed it down to 1. You’re still deeply hurt, and I don’t blame you. I understand completely. But please understand that it was never my intention to become involved with that woman romantically. The reason I left you there in the park…it was so idiotic that I don’t even understand why I did in the first place. I…I’ve never been good at expressing things with words. You’re the only one I need darling. Without you, I can barely stand to function. I never meant to hurt you. That woman was never suppose to take up that much time, you were never supposed to be stuck in the cold so long. I’m so angry at myself. It was freezing and I let you stay there. Be angry with me darling, hate me and curse me, but please don’t leave me. 

I would very much like to see you MC. However Yoosung still refuses to tell me your whereabouts. I would…like to go over what happened with you. Please. I love you.

-Jumin

Your heart burned against your chest. You loved Jumin. You truly, honestly did, with everything you were capable of. You believed him when he said it was a misunderstanding, that he loved you. Yet why was it that you were so afraid to reach out to him?

O0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o (3 days later)

Your heart was at it’s limit. You needed to see Jumin. But the pain in your heart always ate away at your courage, and you only postponed it to the next day. Your legs felt heavy, and you hadn’t eaten in hours. Did loving Jumin always make you this weak? This small?

With a groan you rose off your bed, maybe some fresh air would help. Heading outside you wrapped your scarf around your neck, protecting you from the cold evening chill.

You walked on and on, eyes on the ground as your thoughts churned over and over in your mind. The scream of laughing children jolted you back to reality, and to your surprise you found yourself in the park where you had waited for Jumin in the cold. How had you ended up here?

Continuing to walk along you spotted the seat where Jumin had fed you ice cream, and your chest constricted. What was he doing now?

As if to answer your thoughts, a tall well dressed figure entered your line of sight. Jumin. 

He stood underneath the tree in the exact spot you had been that night. In his hands was another extravagant bouquet of peonies. 

“Ah you’re here again?” You saw a little girl run up to him.

Jumin nodded at her, petting her head softly.

“Hey Ahjussi (Mister, used to call an unfamiliar grown man in Korean) can I have the flowers again if she doesn’t come?” 

Another little girl came running up to him, “Ah! That’s not fair, you got the flowers everyday last week!”

You watched as they bickered. Every day last week….? Jumin hadn’t only sent the flower to Yoosung to give to you, he had been waiting here with them everyday? Is this where he disappeared everyday after work?

Your heart reacted to the sight of him, thawing out from the cold ice you had frozen it in. Jumin’s eyes had dark bags under the, and he looked oh so tired. Yet you drank him in, feeling relief just from the sight of him. Your scarf fluttered in the wind, blowing away from your neck as you stared at him, and you lunged after in alarm, staring at it as it landed at the feet of Jumin (kill me for this cliche)

Jumin picked the scarf off carefully, the two little girls scampering away. He paused as he began to stand back up, this scarf…

His eyes flew up to yours instantly, and you felt your breath catch in your chest at the spark of life that fluttered in his eyes.

“MC.” He breaths, and the world stops for a moment, your eyes locked on each other. There’s only you two, only the feeling of relief and ease that flows to both your chests as you relish in the presence of the other.

But the moment doesn’t last long. Something white catches your eye, and you blink in confusion. Snow. That’s all it takes for your pain to come crashing back to your, for your wounds to reopen. You turn around, forsaking the scarf as you try to escape.

However Jumin’s even faster. You ran from him last time, and he’d be damned if he let you get away a second time. His hand grips your wrist tightly, the bouquet crashing to the ground. Your body is swirled back around and you fall against his chest with a sharp thud.

Jumin feels the physical pain of being apart from you actually leave his body, and he squeezes you tightly.

“MC….MC….MC…” He mutters again and again, ignoring your hands that push against his chest, ignoring the way that you squirm in his embrace. 

“Jumin! L-let go!” You order, disregarding the way your heart continues to thaw in his arms. You have to get away, distance yourself while you can still hang on to your anger. 

Jumin’s arms lock around you tighter, and his head lowers to your ear as he speaks lowly,

“Just listen to me. Just like this. I’ll go crazy if I can’t touch you. God MC, I’ve missed you so much.”

You stop resisting, accepting the fact that he won’t let go of you. You refuse to meet his eyes,

“It’s too late Jumin. I can’t go back to how we were before. I-” The words are pouring out of you in a panic, you need to latch onto something, anything to keep you from clinging onto these strong arms.

But Jumin tilts your chin up, wiping your tears softly with the pads of his thumb. “I’m sorry MC. I’m so so sorry. Please forgive me. It wasn’t ever going to lead to anything, I swear.” He whispers, forehead against your own.

And of course you believe him. Jumin wouldn’t just be smitten with a woman that easily. Of course the words in his letter…they come rushing back to your mind and you feel even more of your anger dissipate. Jumin’s eyes are filled with worry and his hands are so cold. How long had he been here? Waiting for you everyday?

“Jumin…” You whisper, lips trembling as more tears fall from your eyes.

You’re so tired of fighting him. So tired of trying to stay away from him, when all you ever need in your life is him. You wrap your arms around him tightly, and you hear Jumin take in a breath as if he had been holding it this whole time.

His voice is tight, strained as he says, “You…forgive me? Just like that? But…but I haven’t explained. I haven’t-”

You bury your face in his strong chest and shake your head furiously.

“I understand. I got them. I read them. I understand Jumin.”

Jumin processes your words for a moment, before pulling away slightly too look down at you.

“My letters…you read them.”

You give a small nod, seeing that while you recovered from your hurt, Jumin was trying to recover from his own as well. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead softly, and you cry harder into his chest. This is where you were meant to be. This is what you needed.

“Shhhh, shhh don’t cry darling.” Jumin soothes, wiping away at your tears and wrapping you back in your scarf. 

He presses a passionate kiss against your lips, a kiss filled with so much longing, so much relief, brimming to the top with love and affection and so much more, that it shakes you to your very core. 

When he pulls away both of your breaths fog into the air, intertwining in the small space that exists between the two of you. 

“Jumin…lets…let’s go home. I love you.” You whisper.

Jumin’s silent for a moment, his eyes felt with so much emotion. So much love and so much guilt. He reaches for your hand, pulling away and locking them together tightly.

“Yes…I love you….let’s go home.’ He echos back, and the two of you begin to walk away together, the bouquet of pink peonies shining brightly against the snow. 

A nice ring to it... (Parental!Moxiety)

Heya! So, I decided to write this on a whim because I adore @thatsthat24 ‘s Sander’s sides and because I adore them my inner author had to make them suffer (what is with authors and doing that??) But! yeah! If you’ve got love, hate, or criticisms comment, message me, or feel free to rebagel all ‘ya want! hopefully I’ll be writing more fanfics and some original stuff so if you want to ignore this or follow, it’ll ALWAYS be tagged as #epic writes and #epic’s fic tag! my name is Epic (Alex) and this has been fun!

Written for @scaredysanders, and the Discord; thank you for the inspiration to write something after years of not being able to LOOK at a keyboard as a writer! Y’all are all FAM <3 ILY!

It was the third time this week that Virgil Sanders found himself awake at three in the morning, ripped from sleep by cold, sweating fear and a shaking so bad he’d briefly woken up his host. and it was the third night this week that he found himself shaking and nearly running down the corridors of the mind of said host to Logan and Patton’s side, stopping at a simple white bedroom door with a fancy scrawl of cursive reading ‘Patton’ in a soft sky blue, his hand reaching out to rap against the wood in urgency. ‘This is so stupid, you know…’ his thoughts provided. 

‘Why can’t you let the poor man sleep for once, hmm? You know he’s sick of your presence by now- the voice of cruelty was cut off by a sleepy but worried looking Patton, who awoke at the sight of the youngest trait shaking and curled in on himself, a look of haunted worry in his eyes. Virgil looked down but shuffled forward to hug the other trait and grasped him tightly, as if he would disappear as soon as he let go. “Kiddo….” Patton managed, feeling his heart break at Virgil’s actions. When he heard Virgil let out a quiet, sobbing huff, he knew to lead them both inside his room gently and quietly shut the door behind him.

They moved over to the bed to sit down and Virgil finally letting his experiences sting the air. They were gone, all of them- the rest of the sides and their host; it was just Virgil floating in an endless and crushing abyss where felt the echoes of them screaming for mercy- for the help and safety that he’d ripped from them without memory in his subconsciously crafted terror. All of the agony, all of that guilt, all of the sorrow that he was panicking about not feeling; just the hurt and betrayed voices calling out to him- oh, god-no, I’m sorry please make it stop- 

And just when he was losing himself, when tendrils of fear and terror he was unwittingly making were starting to mar Morality’s subspace, he was enveloped in an embrace that screamed of love, Patton pouring all of his represented embodiment into comforting the scared boy before him. “It’s okay, Virgil…I’ve got you- you’re safe and no-one is gone I swear.” his voice somehow reached Virgil and the inky black fear rescinded it’s siege on the room as well as Virgil’s panic, being replaced by…by….comfort, love, compassion, relaxation, soothing senses and a fading urgency. Yes, Patton’s room was truly antithesis to his own- it was love, self-care and a safety he could never know without it’s existence. 

“Listen son, I think you should stay with me tonight, yeah?” Patton asked, rubbing gentle circles into the cold and faintly damp back of Virgil’s shirt. Virgil shakily mumbled out a ‘yes’ and an ‘I’m sorry’ the second statement to Patton’s confusion. “What’s there to be sorry for, kiddo?” 

“I just- you shouldn’t have to wake up and-and take care of me like I’m a child.” he pointed out in embarrassment. “I should be dealing with this alone and in my own room, not….crying into your shirt like a kid that can’t handle a few unpleasant dreams, Pat!” his face was red, and his eyes swam with tears he refused -and failed- to not shed. “I do enough damage in the waking world, y’know? I should at least give everyone a break from this…mess…” silence greeted the room for a while, and Patton had stopped rubbing Virgil’s back (and oh, how he missed the touch–warm, familiar, comforting, heavy in care.) 

Eventually, Patton looked at Anxiety-because he wasn’t, couldn’t be just Virgil and forsake his embodiment, his being and make-up- and carefully took a pale, cold hand in both of his warm, slightly tanned ones. “Kiddo, you could never be a burden. This isn’t just some bad dream that you’re not ‘mature enough to handle’ sport; this is a dream that made you, the embodiment of worry, instinct and fear wake up in fear. That’s not something anyone should be alone to go through.” Patton urged firmly. Honestly, the look on his face seemed so-serious, concerned, out of place- yet, so too does this whole stupid- “Nothing is out of place when it comes to things like this, Verge; it’s my job- and my pleasure!-to make sure everyone is taken care of around here and…if I have to get serious on occasion, then I’ll gladly take that up. Just…try not to think so little of yourself, okay? You’re allowed to feel bad, sure, but I draw the line at dangerous or toxic behavior, son.”

Virgil sighed in uneasy appreciation and nodded in agreement. If anything, he could at least try to adhere to Patton’s advice and make himself less of a burden. “Okay dad I’ll try….um; are you okay?” The look that Patton was giving him was one of a teary smile and the elder nodded in affirmation. “It’s just- it’s nice to hear you call me that….” and Virgil faintly smiled with a small sigh before getting under the warm, soft, and heavy weighted covers of Patton’s bed. “Goodnight, dad.” he breathed, sighing in contentment as the room alleviated his previous scares and worries to replace them with love and a sense of safety one would get from a….parent. huh. 

‘Well,’ he guessed as Patton joined him under the blankets and cuddled up to him, entwined their legs and squeezed his waist in reassurance, ‘that title fits well with Patton and I should say it more often.’ those were his last thoughts as he drifted off listening to his parent’s heartbeat, feeling loved and assured as a pleasant sleep greeted him. Dad has a nice ring to it.

anonymous asked:

65 for andreil plsss

65: “Do you ever think that, maybe, we should stop doing this?”

It happens so quickly that Neil doesn’t have the chance to get his anger back in its usual chokehold. One of the opposing team’s strikers clearly has too much momentum going into his goal, he’s gone over his step limit and he’s careening towards Andrew in goal.

Neil drops his racquet and slips his mark, watching impotently as striker, goalkeeper, and net all go tumbling into the far wall of the court, Andrew pinned under the mess and visibly struggling.

“Andrew,” Neil yells, skidding over to them and wrenching bulky arms and heavy netting out of the way. Andrew’s face is cool and closed off as ever, but sweat is plastering his hair and his breaths are shallow. “Andrew, are you okay?”

He rolls out from the weight and gets up angrily, Neil can see it lancing down his legs and shaking his balance just a little. Afraid and furious for being so. Neil wheels around on the striker who’s sitting up dumbly with the goal half pinning him.

“Glad to see you have as little control over your legs as your team does over their offence,” Neil snarls, and he hoists the guy up by his jersey so hard that it rips. He’s twice his size but Neil’s pure adrenaline, he’s a sharp cleaver on a helpless neck. “At least you’re consistent.” He shoves him back hard, and he gets a glimpse of the striker’s fearful pinched face before he gets knocked out on the corner of the goal.

Andrew has him by the neck of his jersey in the next minute, yanking him back too late.

“I hope it was worth it,” he hisses in his ear, and then Neil notices the red card being thrown up, the coach screaming at him from the sidelines. He can’t feel anything but numb relief.

It’s like the twin of Neil’s showdown with the ravens in his first year as a fox, the brutal body slam, the panic from across the court. Years later and he’d still rip his racquet or his contract with Ichirou in half if it meant keeping Andrew safe.

“It was,” he says confidently. He watches Andrew carefully for pain he would never communicate, tracking his easy stance, his controlled breathing.

“Your energy is misguided, as usual,” Andrew says. “You’ve killed the game.”

“I know,” Neil says fiercely. “But I couldn’t just let him—“

“Don’t confuse your problems with mine.”

“My problems are your problems, Andrew, we’re a team.” In every way.

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anonymous asked:

Sooooo if you feel like it, would you wanna maybe write something where peter is just insanely swamped with homework and working with tony/being Spider-Man and ends up with a cold and it's not that big of a deal except that he's *exhausted* and can't take a break and it all just makes him feel really emotional and gross?? Also idk if Ned would fit in here somehow but I love him, so. 🏫

Tony can handle the sniffling and sneezing. He can handle the occasional complaints that seem to carry a lot more bite to them than usual, but he cannot handle crying in any capacity. So the second he sees Peter swipe the back of a hand across tired, welling eyes, he steps out of the conference room with his phone gripped tightly in his hand. 

He scrolls through his past calls, stopping on an unfamiliar number and pressing the call button. Maybe it’s nothing, Tony thinks as he listens to the phone ring in his ear, but maybe it’s something- something big, something more than he’s capable of handling, something-

“Holy crap! Tony Stark is calling me! Mom! Tony Stark is-”

“Ted,” Tony interrupts, voice firm, forward, and prompting a nervous laugh from the other line. 

“It’s Ned actually.” 

“I don’t care,” Tony mutters, sparing a weary glance toward the conference room as the faint sounds of coughing slip from the underneath the door. “What I do care about is the reason behind Peter’s crying.” 

“He’s crying?”

For the first time since answering the phone, Ned sounds alert, concerned, and an uneasy pit twists within Tony’s stomach. “Yes. He seems sick I suppose. He keeps coughing and sneezing on his textbook, and he’s mentioned more than once that he has a million assignments due. Hell, he even fell asleep on the drive to the tower. What’s wrong with him?” 

“Can I come over?”

The abrupt urgency coating Ned’s tone has Tony gripping his phone until his knuckles fade to a pale white. “Why? What’s wrong with him?” 

“It’s just- look. I’m coming over. I’ll call an Uber and be there as fast as I can.” 

Before Tony can object, the line goes dead. He drops his hand to his side and glances back toward the conference room with a frown plastered across his lips. He takes a moment to inform FRIDAY of Ned’s impending arrival before he reenters the conference room, noting with furrowed brows that Peter is silently crying while hunched over his textbook and scribbling away on a piece of paper. 

Tony opens his mouth, but his mind can’t bring forth helpful words. A biting tone burns on his lips, his natural reaction when addressing touchy situations, so he clamps his mouth shut, lips pulling into a hard line, and takes a seat across from Peter. 

He studies the younger boy, frown deepening all the while as Peter seems to grow increasingly upset with each growing second, but in just a short twenty minutes, the conference room door is slowly opening, and both Tony and Peter look to see Ned slip in quietly. 

“Ned?” Peter asks, voice holding a hint of a rasp. The pencil in his hand shakes along sudden, fearful tremors shooting across his limbs. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, man,” Ned says, moving around the table until he’s pulling out a chair beside Peter. “But you’re not.” 

Peter shifts his gaze down as more tears burn against his eyes. His shoulders slump forward, and he lets out a cracking sigh that has tears slipping down his cheeks. 

“I can’t do this,” he whispers, and Ned waits, silent and patient, for Peter to elaborate. 

“It’s too much,” Peter starts, voice soft yet wavering. “I’ve been up all night the last three nights trying to stay caught up on homework, but I’m still not done. I’m so tired, but Mr. Stark and I have this robbery mission with Steve later, and I want to be there, but-” A gripping cough cuts Peter off; he turns away to cough into the crook of his arm before turning back to lock bleary eyes with Ned’s worried ones. 

“I just can’t do this. I can’t be a model student and a superhero.” 

From his spot across the two, Tony watches the scene unfold with crossed arms, fingers digging into his arms with each word from Peter’s mouth. The want to comfort the boy burns hot along his chest, but the roaming letters bouncing around his mind fail to form into sentences. Luckily for him, Ned seems to have this under control. 

“Come on, man. You know you can do this,” Ned says, lips curling up into a smile and serving as a clear contrast to Peter’s drooping frown. “You’re the only person I know who can do this.” 

“But, I-” Peter tries, voice catching against a sneeze that has him once again turning away from his friend. Four sharp sneezes later, and he turns back to Ned with a soft sniffle that Ned nods at. 

“You’re sick, dude. No one can do much when sick, not even superheroes. All you need is some rest and some help from your best friend on that homework, and you’re solid.” 

“I can’t rest,” Peter groans, shifting a slow gaze toward Tony. “Mr. Stark and I-” 

“Stop.” Words finally find their way to Tony’s lips. “Clint and Sam can help Steve tonight. You are going to rest.” 

“But-”

“Peter,” Tony interrupts for the second time. “Enough. You can’t do everything. You’re clearly sick, and you are going to rest.” 

“I’d listen to him,” Ned mutters, nudging Peter with a light smile. “He seems serious.” 

With a quiet grumble, Peter gets to his feet and starts out the door, too exhausted to even gather his belongings. Ned and Tony follow behind but lag just enough to keep their voices from reaching Peter’s ears. 

“You know something, kid,” Tony says, glancing toward Ned before dragging a slow gaze back toward Peter’s retreating back. “You’re alright.” Nodding, he quickens his pace until he’s striding along side Peter. 

Ned, however, hangs back, steps slowly coming to a halt as his jaw practically plummets to the floor. 

“Holy shit.”

anonymous asked:

I'm not sure if you've done one like this before, but could you maybe do a fic where Karen has been trying to avoid Frank because she has a bruise and or cuts due to investigating too far into something and she knows Frank will get angry, however he finally catches up to her? (Your writing has given me lots of late nights by the way I can't get enough)

It’s a habit she has, gazing at herself in the mirror before bed, trying to find answers in the shadows under her eyes. The bathroom feels strange after she steps out of the shower. Cocoon-like, warm and close. It feels like a time capsule straight from her childhood. The tile here is different though, pristine and white. She tries to focus on the difference, but it’s futile. She can hear her mother crying softly in the echoey bathroom, can see the way she’d gently dabbed at her own cuts and bruises in the soft light. The memory sends anger surging through Karen, and she tries to blink it away, but her reflection doesn’t lie. There are unwelcome flashes of her father swimming in the blue depths of her eyes, a hint of violence simmering just below the surface. It’s hard to push it away, to breathe deeply and ignore what’s been taken from her… what she’s taken.

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Sicky

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader x Sam Winchester

Summary: (Y/N) refuses to admit she’s sick.

Words: 1286

Warning: Fluff

A/N: I have finally come to terms; I am sick! It’s been a really long time since I have been. This is kind of based off something that’s actually happened. Hope you enjoy! And I’m sorry I haven’t published anything in awhile!

Master List | Request


You sniff deeply, a cough following after. Your head rests in your palm as you refocus your eyes on the old, dusty book opened underneath your arm, a pencil in your other hand resting against a notebook.

A shiver runs down your spine, spreading throughout your arms and down your legs. You shift, tightening the blanket around your shoulder. You cough in your arm before shifting and forcing your eyes to focus on the small writing on the yellowing pages.

Since you and your brothers settled into the bunker, you have been aiding Sam in organizing and logging the information held within the walls. The two of you have been at for so long, you’ve finally made a dent in the work just last week, since Dean finally decided to help. You’re trying to finish up this current book while Sam and Dean went to run a few errands and pick up dinner, but there’s a tiredness that’s settling itself deep inside you and you’ve been trying so hard to fight it off for the past week.

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When The Tide Turns (1/16)

Summary:  The plan was to go to England, finish the case and head back home in a matter of days. Of course, nothing in Emma’s life ever goes according to plan. Not only does she end up travelling across Europe, looking for a Liam Jones in order to finish her case, she ends up travelling with Liam’s brother - an annoyingly handsome Killian Jones. And she doesn’t trust him one bit.

Rating: T, for language and a bit of violence later on

Beta-reader: @forget-me-not-s deserves a huge thank you and all the best in the world for being such an amazing beta!! I seriously never would’ve made it this far without her help and support, so thank you, Aina!!!

Artists: I am so honoured to have worked with three amazing artists! @theblacksiren has made three beautiful artworks, one of which is for this chapter - check it out here! @fairytalesandtimetravel has created an absolute masterpiece and I really can’t wait for you guys to see it, it’s absolutely stunning! And I owe a huge thank you to @optomisticgirl for the amazing banner!

Word count: ~3,857 (68k+ in total)

A/N: This was written for the 2017 Captain Swan Big Bang and I honestly never would’ve finished this story - or even begun - if it weren’t for this awesome challenge. I can’t quite believe I actually finished, but I want to thank all the moderators and everyone else involved in the csbb for making this possible!  

AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 |


“Mom, I can’t do this right now, I have to get on the plane.”

“But Emma, you can’t just leave like this!”

The queue moved forward. Emma balanced her phone, passport and boarding pass in one hand, trailing her suitcase behind her. “It’s just work, mom. I’ll be home again in a couple of days.”

“What about Walsh?”

“Walsh and I are fine.” Emma’s grip on the phone tightened. “Really, I’ve gotta go.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay all on your own?” Ingrid asked, not for the first time.

“I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”

“Oh, I know, I know. I’m just worried, honey. You know I only want the best for you.”

“Yeah. I know.” The memory of Ingrid giving her a backpack instead of a black bag to keep her things in came to mind. The time she brought Emma shopping for clothes that actually fit her. The endless amount of support she’d shown when Emma decided to study law - ever since Ingrid took Emma in at sixteen, she had wanted nothing but the best for her. “I’ve gotta go now. Bye.”

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anonymous asked:

Hi! Could you write another college au fic with Keith and Lance as roommates? Lance has a big presentation in the morning and Keith has a bad chest cold. It's late, and he wants Lance to be well rested, but he can't stop coughing. He stays up all night trying to muffle his fits but by morning he's much worse and they just burst out of him. He's too exhausted to be quiet and when he sees Lance awake he whimpers out apologizes, but Lance is super concerned and skips class to take Keith to a clinic

(I feel like I can’t write anything good lately but I tried friend forgive me if it’s not great orz)

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Harvest Moon

Request: skin walker! Sam

Summary: Sam’s still in love with you . Based off Harvest Moon by Neil Young

Warnings: abo, wolf! Sam, alpha! Sam, little bit of angst , blood skin, smut

Tags: @sarahcrystalheart @roxy-davenport @training-wolves  Gonna try @ellen-reincarnated1967 @saxxxology and @blushingsamgirl 

Originally posted by themanicpoet

It had been months, months without you, and months without your warm bed. He was never meant to stay, only to pass on through until his work was done. But of course it all changed once he limped onto your doorstep, tail between his legs.  Sam was typically more careful but the fight with his family left him reeling with anger. Pair that with trying to cross a freeway and the outcome was a shoulder ripped wide open.  

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anonymous asked:

Three sentence fic: something inspired by that Sith!Luke and Vader in a bacta tank art you reblogged earlier?

(This is the art, by @3bsambi)

Good news: I did fill the prompt. 

Bad news: It is not 3 sentences long, and I can’t tell if it makes any sense because I wrote it all at once in a fit of hyperfocus at work, drove home, edited it once, and am now posting it. I have not slept more than 4 hours a night all week. I have a splitting headache. I think I’m a little high. can’t tell if this is bad or good.

Different news: It is 26 paragraphs long. Read the author’s note at the bottom for some explanation re: this AU I just made up. 

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When Blue Meets Red Meets Blue

MadaTobi
Words:
2,579
Sypnosis: Just your usual boy meets mermaid tail tale (heh.).
-
A/N: For our resident Dragon Queen and Koi Goddess @redhothollyberries, her beta-ing skills, her bewitching head canons, and her beautiful art that’s coming our way. Inspired by her headcanon here (x).
-

Tobirama remembers a time when great beasts flew in the sky to disrupt the calmness that engulfs him.

Lithe bodies spanned the sky, the force of their flight tickling his hairs when he dares to venture above the surface. It would always be worth it; to see their iridescent scales, darker than his own, breathing in the daylight and shimmering with the undulations of their leathered tails and necks. Trailing behind them, like an entity of their own, are long wisps of whiskers, shaping their path for all to admire.

And when they breathe their ire, the sky glows with their wrath. Tobirama had no name for it, only a bated breath. The heat would travel with the waves, and touch his soaked skin. It would be years later that the reverent whispers piercing the murky depths of his home would give acknowledgement of these divine creatures.

Dragons.

Tobirama is tranquillity embodied in all its glories and its curses. A still gradient ranging from the shallows pierced by blades of light to the darkness that skims the core of their land. Tobirama is serenity incarnate, a frozen line that has never bent high enough or low enough to taste the heady relief of catharsis. Trouble won’t touch him, excitement won’t find him, and he’s never ventured at the right time to earn the privilege of meeting a storm. The silence of the deep sea is his only constant companion.

Despite that, he closes his eyes and sketches the sky with the same glow that he saw from long ago. Time hums on and he refuses to forget.

Then he meets a boy.

A boy who dives into his merciless home to capture a brother lost to him. A small cretin against the endless sea, gasping and reaching with small hands for another body that’s jerking and clawing at his own throat. Their hands strain to grasp each other.

The boy struggles, but his intent does not falter. Tobirama can see that glint in his eye, burning impossibly bright like a little koi fish swimming against the current of the Yellow River.

Tobirama tilts his head. He has perseverance, one that will be wasted in his home.

With a billow of his tail, he surges forwards, jerking the boys in surprise. He sweeps them into his arms – tiny critters compared to the creatures that lurks under – and swims towards the aimless boat floating on the surface.

Once their heads break the sea level, Tobirama is gone. At least from their sight.

Down below, he watches them scramble onto their tiny boat and closes his eyes, sketching behind his eyelids the glimmering intent of the boy that dared to dive into the sea.

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anonymous asked:

Hello! For the halloween ones 17 with Triplet Kylo would be cool. I can't think of anything too specific for it so you can combine it with any other prompt you would like. Thank you,babe💕

26 for Halloween prompts with kylo!

Luckily someone requested one that goes with it perfectly! Hope you guys like this

Modern AU Triplet Kylo +  “Did you hear that?” +  “I dare you to go down there.”


You sighed with content as you curled up closer to Kylo on the couch as you relished in how warm he was. Even without a blanket fully covering you he kept you just warm enough for this cold fall movie night. It was an annual tradition you had with him and his brothers, every time the spookiest time of year rolled around you all gathered in one place to enjoy each other’s company and watch whatever creepy films your hearts desired. This year however was a little different, and special. The boys had invited you to their family’s cabin, for the first time as an adult. You all had decided a little getaway before the season of blustering winds and snow came along you would enjoy the last mild days of cold weather in a beautiful and serene place. 

Beside you on the couch sat Matt who was anxiously bouncing his knee as the movie progressed. As much as he hated scary movies, this one’s thriller plot had him so entranced he couldn’t help but to sit and watch the whole thing through in anticipation. Even when the room was entirely dark. Meanwhile Ben sat opposite of him non-chalantly eating an entire bowl of candy by himself, mindlessly sticking one after the other into his mouth as his eyes stayed glued to the screen. Kylo was about as relaxed as Ben, but looked just as pensive as Matt, just waiting for the next part to unfold. 

Suddenly as the movie grew quieter you all heard a loud bang from the basement. Collectively you all stopped where you were and grew stiff. Ben paused the movie quickly as his brows furrowed, eyes searching the room.

Matt looked between you all, “Did you hear that?”

You all nodded, “What was it?”

Ben sat up a little straighter, “Couldn’t tell you. My guess is an animal.”

Kylo chimed in, “Or one of our asshole neighbors.”

Matt’s brows furrowed as he turned to Kylo, “Literally nobody else is on the lake right now. Except those people across.”

“Are they big enough assholes to come all the way around the lake to bug you guys?”

Ben snorted, “It’s a retired couple in their 80′s. I doubt it.”

Suddenly you all heard it again, with a creak following it. Matt flinched beside you as Ben’s head snapped towards one of the windows. Kylo sat up as a look of concentration took over his face.

“It’s coming from downstairs.”

Matt’s brows furrowed as he turned to Kylo, “The basement?”

Ben turned back to you all for a moment before nodding, “Yeah. That would make the most sense. It wouldn’t sound so loud to us if it was from outside.”

Matt looked down to the floorboards, “Do you think something got in there?”

Ben shrugged. You adjusted yourself so you could scoot off of Kylo, giving him room to get off of the couch. The boys all looked between each other, when suddenly the screen switched off. All of you turned to look at it, instantly set on edge by the sudden disappearance of the image. Kylo went to flip the nearby light switch only to get nothing. 

Ben groaned, “If that little fucker is eating the wires.”

“Ben we can fix the power, do you really want it to get electrocuted?”

“No.”

Kylo sighed, “Somebody has to go down there.”

Ben turned to you with a smirk, “I vote (Y/N) goes.”

You turned to Ben, “What?”

Kylo seethed, “What?”

Ben shrugged, “Why not? (Y/N)’s brave. Aren’t you?”

“I mean…sometimes.”

“No Ben (Y/N)’s not going.”

“Then go along.”

Kylo sighed as he turned to you. You shrugged in response.

Ben smirked, “I dare you to go down there.”

You scoffed, “Dare?”

Matt shook his head, “You haven’t heard the stories about the cabin have you?”

“…What stories?”

Ben sat up, “Noboy’s been in the basement since our grandpa moved to this place. It’s been untouched for decades.”

“So?”

Matt scratched the back of his neck, “Well…he was a little…off in his last days.”

Kylo nodded in agreement as you turned to him, “Nobody really knows what he did or left behind in that basement. He was just really adamant about people not going down there.”

You gulped, “…Oh.”

Ben clapped his hands together, “Well, get to it kiddies. I want to finish the movie.”

Matt reached behind him on the couch and handed you a flashlight, “You’ll need this.”

You gave him a half hearted smile as you stood up, “Thank you.”

Kylo gave you a nod as you walked towards him. Although being with Kylo gave you reassurance of safety most of the time, you couldn’t help but to be apprehensive. You had only heard snippets about the triplet’s grandfather and almost all of them were vague and shallow stories of his youth. Nobody seemed to venture past those days. 

Slowly Kylo cracked open the door as you turned on the flashlight. Gently you slipped your hand into his, hoping that at least that small contact would comfort you. He led you down the stairs, assuring to take slow steps. While you appreciated it you knew it wasn’t for you. It was mostly for the possible threat of an animal being down there.

You began shining your flashlight around the space, hoping to illuminate on a racoon or something. You didn’t want to say it, but your mind had wandered to other possibilities.

“You see anything?”

Kylo shook his head, “No.”

You both kept slowly walking around the space, being cautious of where your feet stepped next. Suddenly Kylo stepped on something, causing him to pause.

“Oh it’s just a piece of old newspaper.”

You sighed with faint relief, “Oh good.”

Kylo’s brows furrowed as he used the faint amount of light to read over the paper. As he did you moved your light ever so faintly around the room, only to come to a pause.

“Kylo.”

“Hmm?”

“I think I found-”

You nearly choked as you realized you were not looking at an animal, but a face. A human face.

“Oh-Kylo, Kylo.”

“What?”

He looked up instantly to where you pointed only to see a split second of what you saw. In shock he nearly choked too, dropping the newspaper as he gripped onto your hand tighter. The apparition of the scarred face dissipated instantly, making you both gasp.

“Go, go, go!”

You both frantically turned back to the stairs and ran up them as quickly as you could. Just as you entered the cabin Kylo swiftly turned around to shut the door behind you, locking it shut. You both panted for air as Ben and Matt stared at you with furrowed brows.

“What the hell was that?”

Kylo breathed out, “I don’t think…grandpa was expecting company…or wants it.”

You breathily attempted a laugh, “So much for sleeping tonight.”

anonymous asked:

gwahhh i love your scenarios so much they're amazing !! could you do a scenario with kuroo, tsukki and iwai where their fem s/o is an insomniac? and whenever she can't sleep she does her own hobbies like baking or drawing or she just takes a walk outside etc and one night they stay over at the boys houses and they wake up to see her doing her own thing and try to coax her to go back to bed?

It slipped my mind while writing that they were only supposed to be visiting- I hope you don’t too much that they ended up living together, I’m sorry! Anyhow, this was an incredibly heartwarming prompt to write for, and I hope that you enjoy it, and thank you for your patience. :)


At age twenty five, Kuroo is a far cry from just five, which was when he last believed in monsters underneath his bed. Or perhaps they’re still there, but he’s become far too old and too boring for them to find entertaining anymore, and they’ve moved on to people who sleep more, who have fewer nightmares, who can sleep fine alone.

He hears the noise from downstairs first. It’s a soft clang, but it’s enough to pull him out of half-awakeness and his fingers curl curiously around the edge of his pillow. She’s not there, and her space is cold and empty from the exposed bedsheet.

The clang comes again, followed with a very, very quiet curse that makes the edge of his lips curl with laughter at four in the morning. It’s no clawed thing, but his own little monster he relies on to comfort him each night in their multitudes of blankets at pillows that cradle them into mutual drowsiness. Her pills lie capped on her side of the bedside table, untouched and unmoved, and he knows that this must be a special night. The stars, maybe, or the autumn chill that treads it way softly through the corridors of their small house, trailing eagerly along the warm footsteps of whoever’s awake at this time of night.

Not for the first time, Kuroo regrets not wearing fluffy slippers with bears on them when his feet finally touch the ground. He swings himself off the edge gingerly, aware of how his head fogs with unfinished sleep and the way his muscles seem to creak at him, scolding him, potentially threatening to shut down completely if he doesn’t return this instant. He goes off hunting for slippers instead, and for you, even though he knows beyond familiarity where exactly he’d find those things.

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live with a man who knows you

do you live with a man who knows you / are you living the life you chose?

Summary: Victor has spent nearly his entire life being cold, from being born in the dead of winter through growing up in northern Russia to deciding to dedicate his life to ice rinks. He’s never thought much of the cold—until spends enough time feeling warm. (Or: adjusting to domestic life in St. Petersburg, the fanfic)

Word Count: 3,569

A/N: Annnnd it’s finished! This one gave me an unusual amount of difficulty to write, but I really, really wanted to do it anyway.  It can also be found posted to AO3 here.

This is the second of a few fics I plan to write for follower requests after I hit a milestone about a week ago. @subteraneans and @demisexualmako both asked me for domesticity in St. Petersburg, and @comet-kind requested something fluffy and sweet and snowy for the season. The two requests ended up in combination here. 

Thanks to @subteraneans for helping me with Russian terms of endearments, and happy belated birthday to @comet-kind, who shares the day with Victor!

Call it a weakness, but if there is one thing that will keep Victor lingering in a store for hours, it is the search for a perfect pair of leather gloves.

He has a whole drawer full of them in his closet, bunched behind soft-knitted scarves and few mismatched fuzzy socks. Yuuri discovers this when helping Victor pack up his room in Hasetsu, his eyes wide with a disbelief Victor rarely gets the pleasure of seeing on him in such a mundane setting. There have to be at least fifteen pairs, he points out. Yuuri pulls each pair one by one from the fingertips and deposits them on the floor in front of him in a damning spread of evidence. For what on earth does Victor need so many pairs of gloves?

The answer is simple: absolutely nothing.

Victor likes the scent of leather. It’s that somewhat sweet, somewhat sharp tang that wears away with age but never fully disappears. He breathes it in from his hands when it clings to his palms and cracks it in the air when he curls his knuckles, flexes fingers with each new glove pulled snug. Good leather, soft leather is pleasant to touch. And most importantly, whether each pair of gloves is lined with fur or fabric or nothing at all, they keep out the cold. 

He jokes to Yuuri that since he has to wear cheaper, moisture-wicking gloves for exercise when he’s skating, he’s had to buy so many other nice ones to make up for all the lost time. Yuuri rolls his eyes and tells him this is absolutely terrible logic. 

Victor laughs and falls back with his head in Yuuri’s lap, holding up a white fleece-lined glove to Yuuri’s cheek.  “Hm,” Victor murmurs. “Perhaps a brighter color would be better with your skin-tone, Yuuri.”

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