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.


           “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.


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


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.

Keep reading


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.

Keep reading

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. 

Keep reading

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! 


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.


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.


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.


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. 

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)

Keep reading

Questions of science... do not speak as loud as my heart

Blindspot fanfic. Continuation of this one. Set after S2; speculative for S3.

The NYO was both familiar and different.

Someone else was sitting at the desk closest to Kurt’s office, the workstation that had been unofficially assigned to her before she’d left. It was a stupid thing to get upset about, she knew, when it had been her choice to leave. But she still looked away as she followed Kurt into the forensics lab to catch up on the information available on the three missing-person cases.

Her former coworkers were equally divided between coming up to her and welcoming her back or keeping their distance and shooting speculative looks in her direction– and in Kurt’s. Those made her wince. She’d tried to avoid thinking about the uncomfortable attention her disappearance would have focused on him. Her sudden reappearance could only make that worse for him.

Keep reading

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.

Keep reading

When Blue Meets Red Meets Blue

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.


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.

Keep reading

Light the Sky

Pairing: Jeremy Dooley/Gavin Free

A/N: for @gavvyfreeisanerd/ @foster-the-people-in-the-city for our fic exchange. Look I finally wrote it! I hope you enjoy!


You remember the stars in Boston. As you sat in your father’s lap and he pointed at those great distant lights poking holes against the void. “That’s the Big Dipper. There’s Orion’s belt.” It seemed only like a blob and a line to you and you remember your dad’s laugh as you told him this. You ask if you could touch them and are disappointed when you’re told they’re really far away. You exclaim that one day you’ll see them up close. You don’t understand the fond shake of his head your father gives you.

You remember little else of Boston. Stars and laughs mixed with solemn looks and loud people and quiet, heavy moments full of things you didn’t quite understand. It’s a blur of memories meshed together in a quilt with colors bleeding into each other and no edges. But that’s childhood to an adult you guess.

Keep reading

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.  

Keep reading

to keep you warm

pairing: victuuri
words: 8374
rating: teen and up
tags: emerald city inspired fantasy au, witches, ice and fire powers, fate & destiny, opposites attract, pining, fluff, mild gore, happy ending, kissing, implied chris/phichit, yuri is the best wingman even if it’s chris who is more helpful, heavy on metaphors

summary: How do you love someone who you can’t touch? Simple – with a force of burning fire, enough to melt your heart.

or simply the fic where Victor is the Witch of the North and Yuuri is the principal apprentice of the Rising Sun and they can’t be around each other without someone getting hurt (it’s Victor, it’s always Victor)


A/N: below you will find the fic, accompanied by art the incredible @maniacani did for me, so please go take a moment to appreciate her beautiful work! I’m so happy with how everything turned out ahhh YALL GO COMMISSION ANYA RN SHE’S WORTH ALL THE MONEY I PROMISE!!!!!

ps. it might be a good idea to read on ao3 ^u^)b


Keep reading

anonymous asked:

For the ship thing, since you already did gladnis, your next fav ship? And if you can't pick, ignoct :)

Ok, so Prompto and Gladio is actually my next favourite ship, but I have another anon request for that, which I’m going to do shortly. I went with IgNoct for you in this one, and I hope you like it. I tried to make their behaviours a little different in this one from how I made each boy in the other pairings… still in character though I think. I made them both a bit younger, so it’s the end of school for Noctis, so he’s around 17/18. 

(Ever so slightly nsfw)

Who is a night owl: Unsurprisingly, Ignis. Noctis always feels guilty when he falls asleep on the sofa after dinner, the taste of Ignis’ sweet dessert still on his tongue, while his advisor goes into the study to work. Their relationship has not been in this stage for very long. Noctis had surprised Ignis one day when the advisor had come to Noct’s apartment as usual, expecting to find it filthy as ever, but had opened the door to a clear hallway, an immaculate living room, and a pristine kitchen. “Noctis?” he’d asked. “Highness?” Noctis, barely able to keep awake even though it was only half nine, smiled to himself in his bedroom and slouched out to meet him. He didn’t miss the flicker of magic as Ignis sheathed the daggers he’d called to his hands. “Worried about me?” he asked.
Ignis eyed the apartment suspiciously. “What have you done?”
“Nothing. Yet.”
“What are you plotting? Or what do you want from me? You know you don’t have to bribe me, highness.”
“Don’t call me that,” Noctis growled softly as he padded barefoot across the room to him. “You of all people get to call me Noct.”
The prince also didn’t miss the blush that sweeps across Ignis’ high cheekbones at how close Noctis was standing. Noctis smiled. He put his arms around Ignis’ shoulders and buried his face in his neck. “Please,” he whispered, pressing his entire body up against Ignis. In that one word, Ignis heared a thousand unspoken pleas. “Please stay tonight.” Noctis is lonely, isolated, and he aches to have someone share his nights with him.
Ignis caved in that night and stayed. He didn’t do the reports he needed to, which led to him getting up an hour earlier. Noct didn’t wake. It also led to many a night spent in the prince’s bed, and many an early morning spent filling in reports at Noct’s dining table as dawn broke over Insomnia.

Who is a morning person: Ignis, through the mechanical repetition of waking each day at 5am, has taught himself to be a morning person. Noct is… well… about as un-morning as it’s possible to be. Sometimes at weekends he has to ‘remind’ Ignis that he is in fact not a morning person by nature. 

Are they cuddlers: Ignis isn’t naturally a warm person, but knows that Noctis likes nothing more than lying on the sofa with his head in Ignis’ lap while Ignis strokes his hair. Noctis often falls asleep like this, and Ignis is too soft-hearted to move. He’d rather lose feeling in his legs than disturb Noctis. 

Who is the big spoon and who is the little spoon: Noctis, perhaps surprisingly, is bigspoon. The injury on his back as a child left him very sensitive there, and even with Ignis he doesn’t really like contact on it. Ignis, despite his calm, composed exterior, has plenty of insecurities, and he takes great comfort from Noctis cocooning himself around Ignis and sleeping like that. 

What is their favourite sleeping position: spooning, or with Ignis on his back and Noctis curled up against his side with his head on the hollow of Ignis’ shoulder. Noct loves Ignis’ chest and likes to trace circles over it with his fingertips. 

Who steals all the blankets: Noctis. He’s a prince and completely used to getting his own way. He’s cold, he bundles up in the blankets. Ignis rolls his eyes and is not above swatting the prince playfully on the head to remind him he does actually share his bed with another being which requires warmth. Noctis is always apologetic, and sleepy sorry Noctis with his big blue puppy eyes is one of Ignis’ few weaknesses.

What they wear to bed: Noctis: really soft pyjamas. Ignis: silk pjs because he’s a classy gentleman who likes classy silk pjs.

Who likes seeing the other wearing their t-shirt: Ok, they both like it, but there was one time when Noctis nearly lost his shit completely. Ignis had stayed over because Noct had just graduated and had got shit-faced with Prompto, and called him because he needed someone to help him get from the living room to his own bedroom because he couldn’t even stand on his own. Ignis hadn’t intended to go over at all that night, let alone stay, because he had a meeting with Regis the next morning, so he had been going to stay at the citadel in his apartment there so he could be fresh-headed and ready for the king in the morning. This was the one night Ignis had no contingency plan. Noctis had already had his graduation celebration on the night of his actual graduation, so Ignis hadn’t expected him to get drunk. Last time he underestimates that innocent looking blond of Gladio’s… Long story short Noctis vomited on his shirt and it was all very ugly. Ignis bathed him and cleaned them both up, and fell into bed beside Noctis who had effectively passed out. In the morning, he had no clean shirt to wear, and had to wear one of Noct’s biggest t-shirts, which was still super-fitted on Ignis. When he groans at the sight of how gods-damned casual he looks, wearing Noct’s black t-shirt with his own super smart trousers, Noctis wakes up and quietly loses his mind at how attractive it is to see a man who usually wears nothing but suits and French cuff shirts wearing a scuffy black t-shirt that Noct hasn’t worn in years. He used to sleep in it because it was too big. “Iggy?”
“What?” he barks, highly irritated.
“Will you come back after meeting my dad?” he asks sleepily.
“I’ve put my shirt in your washing machine,” he says. “So yes, I will be back to collect it.”
“Good,” Noct mumbles. “Coz I’m going to fuck you six different ways when you get back.” And promptly goes back to sleep with a dirty grin on his stupidly handsome face. Ignis oscillates between angry and horny all morning, and finds it very hard to concentrate in the meeting. Regis eyes the shirt, smirks to himself, and remains utterly silent on the matter. Ignis cannot look the king in the eye for a month afterwards.

Who wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares: Noctis. While he can drop off almost anywhere, he has a lot of trouble staying asleep, which is why he’s so tired all the time. The magic and the crystal weigh heavily on him, draining him, and he has horrible nightmares about demons, and nebulous visions of darkness ahead. He wakes with a little choked cry, and Ignis is there with a cool cloth and a gentle embrace. “Don’t leave me, Iggy,” Noctis whimpers into Ignis’ shoulder. “Please don’t ever leave me.”
“I won’t, Noct. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

Who accidentally punched the other in their sleep: Ignis. Assaulting the crown prince of Lucis, even accidentally and literally just one time, is something that Noctis likes to use against Ignis as blackmail fodder. Ignis wants him to go to dinner with his father? Noctis threatens to tell his father that Ignis was the one who gave him that black eye. Ignis only once tried to counter by saying he’ll have to admit that they’re sleeping together, to which Noct winked and said, “You think he doesn’t know?” Ignis went up in flames on the spot and was never seen again.

Who can’t keep their hands to themselves: Ignis. Most of the time he’s very composed, but when he loses it, there’s little that Noct can do to stop him besides actually ordering him to stop. Which he won’t do, because Ignis is a man of very talents, and while he’s good with words, he’s even better with his tongue. 


~a one shot where Logan doesn’t rest and Patton just wants him to do self care~

warnings: none I think??

Logan pushed up his glasses, refocusing his gaze on the page’s small print. He was almost halfway through Les Miserables after having focused almost all of his time over the past two days on it. He was on the part where Marius was listening to the Jondrettes’ plans to con people through the thin walls of his flat, and he predicted that the dishonest family would somehow find him out soon. However, it was a little bit hard for him to focus uninterrupted on the words, since an unholy shouting was coming from the adjacent living room. The only vaguely melodic voice belonged to none other than Roman, who seemed to be rehearsing his own cover of Idina Menzel’s “Let It Go.” However, in typical Roman fashion, he never stopped to correct his off-key notes or consider what was happening around him. He did not once exit the living room to see if anyone was sleeping, or reading, or valued their quiet time. Logan rolled his eyes, focusing yet again on the same sentence he had tried to read three times previously. He only got to the word “Jondrette” in the middle of the sentence when a glaringly sharp “let it GO” tore him from the book once again. Placing the book face down on the couch between himself and Morality, who was sitting next to him and softly humming, he took a deep, exasperated breath.
“Scientifically speaking, Roman, when distracted by background noise, it is almost impossible for one to keep their undivided attention on only one task!” Logan sighed loudly, keeping his eyes pointed skyward and frowning. For a minute he received no response, but then Roman came out of the living room brushing his perfect hair backwards as though to fix a flaw that was not actually there.
“My dear friend Logan, whatever do you mean?” Roman grinned from ear to ear, cockiness written all over his contoured face.
“I mean, Roman, that your shouting is keeping me from fully processing this masterpiece.” Logan retorted, emphasizing the “shouting.” Roman immediately brought his hand to his heart, a melodramatically offended look crossing his face.
“Well, I never, Logan!” he gasped, his mouth still hanging open and his eyebrows furrowed. “I am blessing all of your ears with my powerful rendition of THIS masterpiece! I am absolutely killing it, SLAYING IT, just like I did the Dragon Witch! This is an outrage!”
“Yeah, that’s nice, Princey, but some of us are trying to sleep in this house,” came a surly voice from the stairs. There was Anxiety, sitting in his usual spot, in his usual sprawled position with the circles under his eyes darker than they’d ever been before. “I was finally not thinking about my impending death when your screaming made me want to make yours happen.”
Patton turned towards Anxiety, sternly pointing a finger at the edgelord.
“Now now, play nice!” He then turned to Roman, a gentle look softening his features. “Roman, Anxiety might be right this time. Not about your impending death, but about sleep! Not only is- was- Anxiety resting, but Thomas was up really late last night worrying about today’s audition-”
“With which I’m sure you were no help, Anxiety,” Logan jumped in, peering over the rim of his glasses at the edgelord.
“And he’s finally asleep right now. We need to let Thomas have a nap, okay?” Roman curled his lip in disdain, holding his face like that for a few seconds before letting out a dramatic puff of air.
“Fine! I’ll just have to try again later, when you’re all awake to hear what I have to offer.” With that, he flipped his hair and sauntered back into the living room.
“Well, I’m going back to sleep. Have a terrible night. Hate you all.” Anxiety grumbled before trudging back up the stairs. As Anxiety’s stomping grew farther away, Morality opened his mouth to speak.
“Logan, can I ask you something?” he questioned, his head cocked to one side.
“I believe you just did, Morality, but if you need to ask something else I see no reason why not.” Logan answered, wondering why Morality would ask a question like that. Morality took a deep breath in and then continued to speak.
“Okay. When I was awake at about three in the morning last night scrolling through Pinterest, I could see from my bedroom you sitting up on the couch and not looking like you were sleeping at all. Did you sleep at all last night?”
Logan furrowed his brow and tried to remember. He had not, in fact, slept at all the previous night, having been too invested in his book to stop for sleep.
“I did not; I simply have an appreciation for this book and failed to see a need to stop reading it at the time.” he offered, guessing from Morality’s slightly parted lips and raised eyebrows that he was concerned. “Why are you making that face?”
“Because the night before that you were up helping Thomas memorize his lines, and I don’t think you slept then either.”
Logan shrugged. “I knew that he needed help more than I needed sleep.”
Morality smiled his cheeky, gap-toothed smile that Logan always found himself wanting to see more of however much he felt it annoyed him.
“Logan honey, you are very sweet for helping him and I’m glad you love your book, but you need to sleep, okay?”
Logan put down his book- by then he had long since stopped trying to read past the same sentence- and looked Morality in the eye.
“Morality, I promise you I will try to sleep when it is nighttime. It is, however, only four in the afternoon.” Morality scooted a little closer to Logan and looked at him with large, dewy, pleading eyes. Obviously, the purpose of this expression was to appeal to Logan’s emotion so he would comply.
“Pleeeease, Logan? For me?” Logan picked up his book again and ventured beyond the long-lasting sentence- finding out that there was a small hole in the wall between Jondrette and Marius’s flats- before noticing out of the corner of his eye that Morality was still fixing him with the puppy dog eyes. Logan sighed, putting down his book and turning his body to face Morality.
“Since my two options here seem to be either you continuing to keep after me, or acquiesce to you and catch up on sleep, I choose to preserve some of my sanity and do the latter.”
Morality’s eyes immediately lit up like those of a child receiving a present. “Yayyyy!” Logan rolled his eyes and lay down on his back, bending his legs to the side so Morality still had room to sit. He slowly let his eyes shut, feeling his body relax already. However much he hated to admit it, maybe Morality had been right about his need for sleep. Just as he let his head loll to the side, he was interrupted from his state of relaxation by Morality’s soft whisper.
“Are you cold? Do you want my cardigan? How about a blanket? Or cuddle up to me! I’ll keep you warm! I’m comfy, I promise! I love cuddles! They’re so sweet, and so are you, and-”
“I will stay awake just to spite you should you continue,” Logan mumbled, enunciating every word. Whether Logan felt spiteful or not, though, his body was growing more exhausted by the second without any distractions to keep him from his sleepiness. He quickly gave into it, feeling himself become less aware of his surroundings. The last thing he felt was something warm and soft being draped over his whole body- a blanket. Knowing Morality had put it there, Logan let out a soft moan as a thank you before drifting off to sleep.
Morality smiled as Logan made the softest noise from under the thick fleece blanket. He really had been too tired, and Morality was glad to help him get to sleep. Although Morality really wanted to hug and cuddle him, he was glad just to have him close by. He always filled his heart with butterflies and made him almost speechless.
Looking at Logan again, Morality noticed that he still had his glasses on. He smiled to himself and reached to take them off so they wouldn’t get squished while Logan slept. Putting the glasses on the table in front of the couch where Logan could find them later, Morality reached back towards his face and brushed the stray hair off his forehead. He smiled as Logan moved slightly towards him in his sleep, curled into the fetal position and lying so that his knee touched Morality’s. All Morality could think of for the rest of the night was how smitten he was with Logan.

anonymous asked:

Four word prompt: "You're a terrible cook"

Thanks for the prompt, whoever you are! I hope you enjoy this one 💕


You’re A Terrible Cook

Hermione was just setting the food onto two plates when the fireplace roared, alerting her to Ron’s arrival. She froze, feeling her stomach flip anxiously, as she scooped out the last of the peas and admired her handiwork. The pork chops were crispy, the mashed potatoes loaded with butter and cream, the peas a verdant green. It had been a bit of a struggle, trying to cook a full meal like this from scratch, especially without using magic, but Hermione felt confident that her hard work would pay off.

“Come in here,” she called, listening to his footsteps in the hallway. “Dinner’s ready.”

His cloak still on his shoulders, he peeked into the kitchen with an air of mild curiosity.

“You’ve… cooked?”

Hermione bristled at his surprised tone. She was no Molly Weasley, it was true, but they didn’t survive solely on takeaway. “Yes, I’ve cooked, it isn’t rocket science. Now come on, sit down, I don’t want it to get cold.”

Ron shed his cloak and shoes and allowed himself to be ushered to the table, where he was served a plate along with a glass of wine.

“What’s this all about?” asked Ron as Hermione sat down across from him.

“Well, you’ve been promoted from a trainee to a full-fledged Auror and I just thought we should celebrate a bit,” she said. “I’m really proud of you, I thought I’d do something special.”

“Oh.” Ron gave her a soft smile and picked up her hand, kissing her knuckles. “I - thanks, love. Everything looks great.”

So they tucked in. Hermione didn’t often eat pork chops but she knew Ron loved them so she’d gone out on a limb a bit, yet she couldn’t help but wonder vaguely in the back of her mind if they were always so difficult to it through, let alone chew. And what had happened to all of the spices she had used? All she could taste was tough, dry meat.

On the other side of the table, Ron was chewing an enormous mouthful of potatoes. Hastily he gulped it down, following it up with a swig of wine. Hopefully his pork chop had turned out better than hers - he’d taken a couple bites of his but seemed to have moved on to the vegetables. Noticing her observing him, he curled his lips into some semblance of a smile and drank a bit more wine.

Hermione started to sweat. He hated it all, didn’t he? So perhaps she didn’t quite have the skill of a house elf at Hogwarts, but she couldn’t possibly have gone wrong with her side dishes, right? There was certainly no screwing up such simple items. She sampled a forkful of the peas, only to discover with absolute horror that they crunched - the centers of the little green spheres were still frozen solid.

“Ron?” she said tentatively as he returned his attention dutifully to his food. “Is everything okay? You’re not usually this quiet.”

“Mhmm,” he nodded rapidly, his eyes wide in his overeagerness to reassure her. “Yeah, everything’s - yeah. Let’s have more wine.”

He used his wand to summon the bottle and refill their glasses. Hermione drank from her glass as Ron scooped up a bite of mashed potatoes, which dripped sadly between the tines of his fork on their way to his mouth. How was that even possible? She hadn’t used that much cream, had she? If Ron was fazed by this, he didn’t show it, instead just stirring the potatoes and making another attempt.

“Ron,” Hermione said, placing a hand on his arm. “You can say it. I’m a terrible cook.”

His entire body seemed to relax at her words as he burst out laughing.

“You’re a terrible cook,” he agreed, though there was an incredible tenderness lacing his voice as he leaned across the table and kissed her.

“You were really going to eat all that?” Hermione asked in awe. His stomach was basically a bottomless pit, she’d known that for years, but everyone had limits.

“Yeah, you were so excited, I wasn’t gonna hurt your feelings.” He sat back down in his chair and picked up his glass of wine. “But I didn’t know peas could go all cold in the middle like that, is that a spell, or-?”

Hermione dissolved into laughter, her face behind her hands, as Ron drank his wine and watched her. There was no harm done, really; this was just one of the things, like flying and chess, at which she didn’t excel, and she could live with that.

I think we can still salvage the night,“ Hermione declared when she had calmed a bit. “How would it be if we ordered a pizza?”

Ron grinned. “Brilliant, you are.”


you can find more four word prompts here!

anonymous asked:

So I'm talking like post-everything they're in the avengers tower and these idiots still haven't admitted their feelings. Bucky doesn't feel like he deserves to be loved by steve and vice versa they're just dancing around each other. And this one night after a party steve is sitting on their couch and he's wrapped up in blankets and he still can't get warm and all he wants is for bucky hold him and have his way with him so buck comes in and see a shivering lil steve and can't help himself

Steve hated parties. In the past, it was because he felt insecure and out of place, people looked down on him and he hated the way he looked. 

Now, he just felt awkward, out of place and shy. He hated talking to people he didn’t know. He loved interacting and forming friendships, but he couldn’t handle the anxiety that came along with that. 

Tony was having one of his parties for a function and while everyone else was dancing and drinking, Steve stayed in his corner and watched. After a while, he got up and left. He wasn’t needed. 

And he couldn’t keep watching Bucky dance with women. He couldn’t keep watching as the man he loved slipped through his fingers yet again.

Later, Steve found himself on the roof of the Compound. His legs hung off the side and a blanket was wrapped around his shoulders. He felt the cold, not like the average person, but always in his hands. 

He was freezing. 

But it was better to be cold than stiflingly hot. 

The view from here was beautiful and if Steve closed his eyes, it was like he was sitting in his mother’s garden, listening to the world go by. 


Steve opened his eyes and turned, Bucky had fallen into the spot next to him. “Is somethin’ wrong?” he asked, somewhat bitterly. 

“Stevie, you left and - 

“Yeah, I left. Sorry. Didn’t feel like watchin’ you have a good ol’ time, while I sat there throwin’ back shots,” Steve snapped, angry that tears sprang to his eyes. “You act like you don’t even know me.” 

“Stevie, that’s not true -

“Oh, it isn’t?” Steve laughed harshly, “really? You barely say two words to me, you avoid me all the time. I feel like you’re not even here. I got you back, I’ve missed you so much. I woke up in this world with no one and when you were there on that bridge, I thought, I could be happy. But I guess not. Seen as you want nothin’ to do with me.” 

With that, he stood up and began to walk away, when Bucky grabbed his arm and turned him around, asking brokenly, “is that what you think?” 

Steve stared at him, “don’t you get it? I love you and you’re goin’ around like I don’t exist. I can’t - can’t keep doin’ this. It hurts, it hurts too much. If you want nothin’ to do with me, then fine. But can you just tell me, so that I can move on?”

“No,” Bucky growled, walking Steve into the wall, caging Steve against it, “no, I can’t. I won’t.” 

“Buck - 

Steve’s eyes welled up with tears, spilling over his cheeks and he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look at his best friend. He was trembling now, feeling utterly helpless and small, he would let Bucky do whatever he wanted, leave and never come back, whatever it was. He wasn’t worth Bucky’s time. 

And then he felt Bucky’s lips on his skin. Kissing up his tears, kissing his eyelids, his forehead, his jaw, his cheeks, his chin, his neck and before Steve knew it, he was shaking apart in Bucky’s hold, sobbing into the warmth of his best friend’s arms. 

“It’s okay, Stevie,” Bucky whispered, hugging Steve to him. Steve buried his face in Bucky’s neck and clung on tight. “I’m here Stevie. I’m here and I’m never leavin’ you again. I love you too, I love you so much sweetheart. You’re so good and I didn’t want to be a burden, I ain’t a saint, doll.” 

“You’re not a burden,” Steve said between hiccups, “I ain’t a saint either. You’re perfect as you are. But you don’t need to lie to me. If you don’t feel the same - 

Steve was cut off by Bucky’s lips meeting his. It sang of love and all things sweet, a kiss to hold and protect. One that kept Steve grounded and present and made him feel alive. 

“I love you,” Bucky growled, kissing Steve’s jaw, then neck and sucking there, “I love your eyes. I love your smile. I love the way you laugh. The little frown you get when you’re angry or confused. 

I love the fact that you hate avocado but love guacamole, you smell like home and sweetness, like apples and safety. I love that you paint and express whatever is goin’ on in that big beautiful mind of yours. 

I love the way you care and feel for others, always tryin’ to do the right thing. I love you. Stevie, I do.”  

Steve broke down then, melting into Bucky’s arms and curled his freezing cold hands on Bucky’s chest, keeping them warm and safe there.

Right over Bucky’s heart. 

Closure (M)


It was supposed to give you closure, it was supposed to be the end of your relationship with him. But the moment your gaze meets his, all of the memories flood right back to you and you’re finding yourself receiving closure in a different kind of way with Hoseok.


*breathes heavily* I finally got around to finishing this. Not gonna lie, this destroyed me. Hoseok in general destroys me, tbh. I’m dedicating this to @namsjxms because I know she’s been waiting for this. Also because I usually torture her with Jungkook and I wanted to give her some bias feels for once.

Word Count:



Angst, rough sex, oral (both receiving and giving), swearing, dirty talk, possessiveness/jealousy issues.

“It’s okay to want me, ‘cause I want you.”

Keep reading


Originally posted by yovibeispretty

Yoongi x reader


889 words

In which your boyfriend tries to be cool.

You insisted that your boyfriend Yoongi spend the night at your place, because it was far too late and too cold out for him to get back to his dorm. You’ve just started dating him recently, and it was your first time sleeping together. Sure, you’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder and he’d fallen asleep on your lap a few times, but you two haven’t intentionally slept together on the same bed before. You hadn’t even had sex with him, and tonight wasn’t going to be that night either. You two were tired, and it was late.

Keep reading