feeling a bit nostalgic all of sudden, so what do I do? Right! Headcanon coming
that somewhere in the future, years and years from now, Izuku is no longer the
teenager he is now. He’s a grown man, a top hero, and has taken up the work his
mentor has passed onto him – he is not a lone pillar like All Might once was,
because there are other young heroes (mostly Class 1-A) right beside him,
working together with him, but unofficially, the citizens talk about the hero
“Deku” being the new Number One. It is as if All Might has come back, even
stronger than before, some say.
day, Toshinori is walking down the street, sunglasses perched on his nose, a
hat drawn in deep to hide his features. People nowadays don’t make a fuss over
him when they happen to recognize him, not anymore, but there are still a lot
of All Might supporters out there. Whenever he doesn’t feel like getting too
much attention, he disguises himself just enough to pass as a normal citizen.
he is, now. No hero, just a normal person coming back from buying groceries for
doesn’t bother him anymore. There are others who do his old job now, and he can
safely say that they are doing a fabulous job at it.
still… as he tilts his head back in order to stretch his aching neck a bit, his
gaze lands on a poster. It’s colourful, slogan plastered over it, and a
familiar mop of green hair is to be seen on it.
“Hero Deku – The movie! Coming soon!” it
reads in big, bold letters.
stops in his walk and reads it again. He has seen such posters often already.
Deku’s face greets him everywhere he goes – pictures in newspapers, in
commercials, action figures lining racks at the supermarket. It grins at him
from T-Shirt that young Deku-fanboy’s and fangirls wear, proudly presenting
their hero to the world.
the realization crushes down on Toshinori. Izuku… Izuku is a hero now. No, he is
the hero, even more famous and
stronger than All Might once was.
has reached his goal, fulfilled his dream.
memory flashes before Toshinori’s inner eye – a shy, tense boy, nearing tears,
asking him loudly and with a waver in his voice
“Can someone without a quirk become a hero like you?!”
wide smile blooms on Toshinori’s face, warm affection and pride flooding him,
letting tears well up in his eyes. Chuckling to himself, he pushes his
sunglasses onto his forehead, rubbing at his eyes with the ball of his free
hand. “Yeesh. I’m getting sentimental in my old age.”
is a quick breathe next to him, before a high, breathless voice chirps from around
his knees. “Are you All Might?”
blinks the last tears back and looks down. There is a little boy standing next
to him, big round eyes staring up at him reverently, little chubby fists
clutching a familiar action figure painted mostly in green.
you’re right my boy,” Toshinori shifts and gets down on one knee in order to be
on eye-level with the little one. A smile tugs at his lips. “I really used to
be All Might.”
boy’s eyes go even bigger, a feat that should have been impossible, and a wide,
toothy grin spreads on the round face. “That’s so cool! You’re the real All Might!”
laughs at that, hoarse but honest. The excitement reminds him of another fanboy…
you really train Deku?”
trails off, turning into chuckles before Toshinori quieted completely, smiling
he had been recognized for his deeds as All Might. Now, he was recognized as
made him feel ready to burst with pride, warmth swelling in his chest.
I did,” he pats the boy’s head gently, chuckling at the happy squeak that gets
him. “You’re well informed, young man.”
grin widens even more, and the boy hops up and down in excitement, the
Deku-figurine pressed to his chest. “I know everything
about Deku! He’s my hero!”
I want to be just like him when I grow up!”
hums, half-listening as the boy rambles on, listing up feats that Deku has
done, and why he thinks that Deku is the coolest hero out of all of them. All
the while, Toshinori slips one hand into the pocket of his hoodie and pulls out
his phone, trying to catch a glimpse of the time.
five minutes late.
He will probably be worried by now, he
muses, amusement and the beginning of an idea flickering through him.
little one stops, excited expression shifting into a mixture of embarrassment
and worry. “O-Oh! Sorry, um, I know I always talk too much…”
at all,” Toshinori calms him, smiling slightly. “But I wanted to know: What
would you say if you accompany me for a bit? There is someone I would like you
for a second, the boy frowns, contemplating, before he beams again. After all,
it is All Might he is talking with. “Okay!”
gets up again, silently cursing his cracking knees – he really was getting old –
gathering his grocery bags and resuming his walk. The boy kept up with his slow
steps easily, hopping all the while, talking and talking and talking.
brought a grin to Toshinori’s face. Fanboys were always the same, it seemed.
turned the last corner, Toshinori’s home in sight right before them, as someone
called out, “There you are! Yeesh, I was already getting worried here!”
boy stopped hopping, basically freezing in spot, as a tall, green-haired man
appeared right in front of them. He was huge, at least for the boy, only an
inch or so smaller than All Might himself, broad shoulders hidden underneath a
wide shirt reading “All M”
just hummed, fumbling for his keys. “Hello to you too, my boy.”
other snorted, shaking his head. “That’s all? Please call me next time when you’re
late. The last time you didn’t show up in time, it was because you had run into
another villain incident.”
luck. And you bailed me out from it easily,” Toshinori rumbled, shoving the
younger aside gently in order to reach the door. “Stop pampering an old man
like me, will you?”
And don’t call yourself old” in a gesture not very fitting for a grown man, the
younger stuck his tongue out at the blond, getting punched lightly in the
shoulder for it.
then did the man notice that his former teacher had company. Green eyes blinked
as they locked onto the frozen little boy who was staring up at him in wonder. “Oh?
Deku!” the little boy breathed
reverently, even more fascinated by the fact that his hero was standing in
front of him than he had been by the sight of All Might himself.
Yes?” A sheepish smile appeared on Izuku’s face as he scratched the back of his
head. “Hello there!”
really, really Deku!”
Izuku’s gaze shifted from the excited little fanboy towards his mentor,
helpless, silently saying Help, I’m
barely managed to bite back a snort, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Izuku,
meet your number one fanboy.”
Taiki!” The boy was beaming now, eyes ablaze with happiness at the sight of his
idol. “And you’re the coolest hero ever!”
Izuku’s smile was more relaxed now. He was
familiar with the excitement one felt when meeting his idol, after all. “That’s
a very nice thing of you to say, Taiki, thank you.”
oh! Can I have your autograph? Please? That would be so great!”
course you can. Wait, I do have a pen somewhere…”
stopped in the open door, leaning against the doorframe as he watched his
student and Taiki. Izuku had crouched down in front of the boy, signing the offered notebook (“I read on the internet that
you used to take notes of everything, Deku!” – “I still do that, actually.”)
warm, overwhelming feel of pride wells up inside the blond, and he can feel
himself smiling softly.
catches that, lifting an eyebrow. “What?”
smiling at me.”
I be proud of my boy?” Toshinori gives back easily.
expression changes into something bright, happy, warm, and he smiles widely.
clears his throat, pushing himself off from the doorframe. “Well, I should get
started on lunch, I guess.”
smile falls, and he looks up from the autograph he had just admired. “Oh.
Izuku interrupted him softly, “Should try and call your parents to ask if you
can stay for lunch.”
takes a moment for the words to sink in, but then, Taiki’s whole face lights
Izuku’s gaze flickers over to his mentor quickly, before he mock-whispers “Toshi-
All Might always cooks too much, you know. He thinks I would starve otherwise.”
not,” Toshinori admonishes from where he is kicking of his shoes already. “I
know your mother. She would never let you starve.”
not sure about that!” Izuku quips back, laughing, before he turns to his young
fanboy again. “What do you think, Taiki?”
boy’s face is almost splitting under his big grin. “I will call them!”
watches, smiling, as the young fanboy scrambles to call his parents, while
Izuku waits at the doorstep patiently.
Izuku really has come a long way.
looks over his shoulder, catching Toshinori smiling absentmindedly again, and
he laughs at his mentor happily. “I still can’t believe that I have fanboys now! That’s so awesome!”
blinks, shaking his head, grinning back.
Preference idea: How you first met them, and their first impressions of you.
Link to playlist: We will be making a recomended playlist for you guys to listen to while reading our pieces.
PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SEND IN REQUESTS :)
Jughead: Believe it or not, it all started out with a confrontation. You were new to the school and you automatically found a friend in a preppy girl called Betty Cooper. She was acting as you tour guide for the morbid school. In the common room you locked eyes with a boy who looked like he has had enough of the day already, even though it had just started. He kept giving me dirty looks, like he knew everything about me.
“Whats your problem?” I ask, very clearly annoyed by the glares.
It caught him totally off guard.
“Jughead, play nice.” Betty warns.
The boy just rolled his eyes and looked off to the side.
“What an asshole.” you thought to yourself, not knowing that he would be the man you one day marry.
Archie: Another high school rager. Music pumping, practically makig the walls of the small yellow house shake. You had heard that there was a house party on, and your cousin who went to the school dragged you along to join. You weren’t one to party, being more focused on out of school activities left you with no room in your day to be a regular teen. Walking through the sea of people was uncomfortable to say the least, but one person did catch you eye. A tall red-head, dancing like nobody was watching.
In truth everyone was watching, and laughing.
He looks over at you and squints, trying to figure out who you were.
“Hey did you fall from heaven?” he asks trying to turn he’s drunken slur into a smooth pick up line.
“Dont even go there buddy.” you reply, laughing at his effort.
“No, like you’re really hot.” he insistes, flashing this beautiful smile that captivated you instantly.
Veronica: Everyone was talking about the new girl. New people were always interesting because of the small town mindset, nearly all of the kids were ones that had gone through school with you for your entire school career. There were no strangers.
This mysterious dark haired girl walked up to our group. Cheryl Blossoms signiture lip colour plastered on her own lips, which everyone knew that was gonna be a problem.
“Im Veronica Lodge.” She intorduced herself cool, calm and collected.
Everyone was staring at her because she was drop dead gorgous.
“Hi! Im Betty Cooper!” Betty chirped, being her apple pie, all american girl self.
After accepting Betty’s embrace she looks over at you, thick eyelashes making her look all the more seductive.
“And you are?” she directs at you.
“y/n, y/n y/l/n.”
Betty: Aunt Maries wedding day was a shit show before it even began. The only thing that kept you going through was the pretty blonde girl who was wearing the ugliest dress. She had barely even said anything the whole time, her face was pretty much was telling of how everyone was feeling at the time. Bored. Mindlessly bored.
“Betty look more excited, please.” Her mother says, nudging thgirl.
The girl looks over at me.
“Are you enjoying this?” she asks bluntly.
I shake my head fast in response. At this current point in time, i was jelous of Jason Blossom.
‘We’re going to get a milkshake.” she said walking briskly away from her mother, grabbing my hand and leading me out the door.
OKAY SO i know no one even ASKED for this but this came up on my dash
and it was like the idea just formed fully all at once in my head like the whole damn thing just all of it and i couldn’t help myself so here it is this is my first time writing a fic and its ALL FLUFF don’t sue me i just couldn’t stop myself
@selflessbellamy i don’t know if this will even mildly satisfy you or if you’ll even enjoy it but i also wish bell and clarke could live in a world where dancing is a thing so here goes
set up: the unity day masquerade dance (the same one octavia gets arrested at)
Clarke’s at the Unity Day masquerade dance, alone, all because Wells had cadet training. When Clarke complained to him, he just said to go make new friends. “Life doesn’t happen just in Alpha station, Clarke.” Well, of course she knew that, she worked in med bay after all. But after her dad started berating her on wasting the best, most carefree years of her life by sitting on the couch watching old soccer games, she grabbed her mom’s old masquerade mask and huffed out the door, grumbling the entire way to the mess.
After dancing solo to a few upbeat songs, she knew coming was a mistake when they started playing a slow song. A waltz, if she remembered correctly. Internally groaning, she was jostled and shoved until she found herself on the sidelines of the dance, watching as everyone grabbed a partner and began dancing. This was the nice thing about the Unity Day dance. For one night, when the masks were on, no one cared if you came from Farm station or Mecha, Factory, or Alpha. Everyone just… was. Was having a good time, that is, except for Clarke. Standing alone like a total loser. Of course this had to be the year there was an odd number of kids at the dance.
All of a sudden, someone grabbed her hand and was whisking her into the crowd. Between the lights, music, quick spinning movements, and probability that someone had spiked the punch (she would bet two weeks of rations that it was that engineering kid Monty, from Farm Station), she couldn’t see where or who she had ended up with. Steadying herself by placing her hands out around her, she clutched the zipper of a jacket. A guard jacket, she realized as she took in the black colour, plastered with Ark regalia. Looking up, she began to demand, “Who-”, but when her eyes landed on the guardsman’s face, the words died out in her throat. The guy was seriously gorgeous. Tan, caramel-coloured skin, with a smattering of freckles and dark, warm, brown eyes, framed by a mess of black hair she knew was just barely restrained by the hair gel, all topped off with a self-righteous smirk. All she could manage to say was, “Oh…”, her voice trailing off as her demanding questions vanished from recent memory.
“Don’t you worry, Princess, no one’s arresting you tonight. Can’t a guard take a break?” The boy teases. Bellamy is his name, but Clarke wouldn’t learn that tonight. Taking in his uniform, she spots the name tag with the word ‘Blake’ stamped on it. Not from Alpha station then; wonder how he got onto the guard, Clarke thinks to herself. Before she can say anything, Bellamy has them moving, his feet leading Clarke to move hers as well. Normally she hates being told what to do, but in this particular case, she finds that she doesn’t mind it so much.
She suddenly picks up on something he said, and just like that, her annoyance returns. “Hey, I’m no princess! And you’re no guard. I recognize that insignia, you’re just a cadet,” she smirks up at him, but then immediately feels bad as she sees discomfort and shame flicker across his face, before it closes off, the smirk being replaced by a cold line. She feels his hands and shoulders tense up, only further adding to their mutual discomfort. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, “that was a princess-y thing to say, wasn’t it?” His gaze opens up a bit, but he doesn’t say anything. “It’s just that, my friend’s in cadet training too. That’s where he is tonight. Training. To be a cadet.” Bellamy’s smirk returns as he watches her speak stutteringly.
He shakes his head quickly, then looks away while saying, “No worries, Princess. Your clothes gave you away, that’s all.” He turns to look back at her, and Clarke feels caught off guard by his gaze. Feeling… something, she breaks their eye contact and chooses a new topic of conversation, one decidedly less inflammatory than the Ark’s unofficial classism.
“Where’d you even learn to dance anyway?” she asks. “I thought you guard-types were all strength, no coordination.”
“All strength? I’ll thank you for that, but in fact, being a guard is all about coordination. The use of a shock baton, I’ll have you know, is like a dance. The twirling prior to its execution, it counts for everything.”
Clarke finds a snorting kind of laugh escaping her mouth, but she cuts it off, regarding him with a smirk and an eyebrow raise. “Funny,” she proclaims, and sees a proud smirk mirrored on Bellamy’s face. This time, he breaks the eye contact as he motions for her to twirl under his arm, his gaze distracted and sweeping the room. “But really, why are you here? I mean, dancing?” As their hands rejoin, Clarke studies the contrast in skin tone, his golden-brown hand large, slightly rough, dotted with a few freckles, and her hand pale, but slightly flushed, almost engulfed within his. Looking up, she sees he’s still sweeping the room.
“Let’s just say I’m keeping an eye on someone, official guard -or, cadet - duty, you know? And this arrangement provides the best view,” Bellamy snaps his gaze down to her face, then quickly travels up and down her body, before looking back up and continuing his search. “for more than one reason.” Clarke feels herself flushing, and before she has time to control it, his gaze slides back to her, annoying smirk already in place.
Irritated by his pride, but unable to think of a response, she just huffs and grumbles about “shit-eating grins and self-confident guards” under her breath. They continue dancing, around and around. Damn, this is a really long song, Clarke complains to herself, but she knows she doesn’t really mind. Even though they just met, being in the same space as this boy doesn’t make her uncomfortable or nervous. It feels so familiar, calming almost. Like they’ve known each other for years. Like she could trust him with anything, even her life. And by the relaxed set of his shoulders, she could guess he feels the same way.
After a while of the repeating cycle of Bellamy sweeping the room, Clarke looking at his chest, and them occasionally meeting glances, she’s grateful that he swept her off the sidelines. She could’ve have been spending these minutes alone and feeling sorry for herself, instead of enjoying her time here. Her dad and Wells would be proud.
“Thank you,” she finally says, and Bellamy cuts his sweeping glance short, turning his head back around to face Clarke, giving her an odd, questioning look, like he’s never heard the words before. She continues, “for keeping me alive.” Bellamy looks shocked for a quick second, then throws his head back, releasing a short laugh, before facing her again, the once-annoying-but-now-charming smirk on his face.
“Keeping you alive? Surely the embarrassment of spending a slow dance alone wouldn’t have been that bad,” he responds. “You don’t make it easy, you know, shuffling like that.” Seeing his amused smirk, Clarke blushes, dropping her gaze to their feet, hers hesitant, his confident, leading them around and around and around. “Hey,” he adds softly, “you’re welcome. For what it’s worth, thanks for letting me grab you off the sides like that. Appreciate it.” Clarke looks back up, and Bellamy gives her a nod paired with a small, close-lipped smile. She smiles back, and they dance in comfortable silence, stealing quick glances at each other and sharing small smiles until the song melds back into the regular fast-paced and thumping-bass variety.
She hadn’t noticed it while waltzing, but they had gradually drifted so close to each other that their chests were almost touching. It was intimate, maybe too intimate. But Clarke found herself not wanting it any other way. She peered up, and saw Bellamy staring at her, a heat in his eyes that she had never encountered before. His gaze dropped to her lips and his breathing hitched. In some sort of automatic response, she inhaled sharply, and in one quick motion he licked and then pursed his lips. His lips… The lights flashed red, and the moment broke.
“Well,” Bellamy says, whipping his head back, followed by his hand drifting from her waist as he pulls away.
“Well,” Clarke replies, dropping her hand from his shoulder, then looking down at their linked hands. She doesn’t really want to let go yet. She feels Bellamy’s gaze on her and looks up. He’s giving her a weird sort of expression. Quickly, reluctantly, she drops his hand, being met with only slight resistance. Twisting her fingers, she regards him, standing tall and strong beside her, his gaze confidently sweeping the room. He swivels his head back to face her so quickly Clarke fears he’s caught her staring. Instead, he just pulls his characteristic smirk.
“Well, Princess, looks like I’ve gotta run. Guard duty and all,” he tells her as he backs away.
Bellamy’s shoulders begin to turn, and Clarke knows if she doesn’t ask now she might never get to ask again, so she blurts, “Hey! What’s your name?”
Bellamy turns back, his signature smirk lighting up his face, “Maybe next time, Princess,” and somehow manages to disappear into the crowd, despite his tall frame. As he trails off, Clarke thinks she hears the words “Best Unity Day, ever,” but she can’t be sure.
Clarke might’ve been standing there for seconds, or minutes, or even hours, but the next thing she registers is the alarm sounding. “Solar flare alert. Solar flare alert.” She snaps out of her reverie and commences the standard emergency protocol, removing her mask and pulling out her ID.
Somewhere in the chaos, she sees a tall head of barely tamed black curls, charging through the crowd - towards a short girl with brown hair swept up into a ponytail - but she loses sight of it, of him, as a guard enters her field of vision, asking “ID, please.”
Clarke focuses on the man in front of her, relaying the words she’s been taught to say since she was a child. "Clarke Griffin, Alpha station. Medical apprentice. Parents: Dr. Abigail Griffin, and Jake Griffin.” She lets the guard move her toward the window and is left searching, wondering, about the freckled boy with hair the colour of night.
"My friend dragged me to this party and I just saw my ex quick make out with me" with Young!Remus, Draco, or George??? I don't really care who it is. :) Hope you feel better soon, love! -immobulusmalfoy
@immobulusmalfoy here you go love, I changed it around a bit, but I hope you don’t mind! xoxo
Loud cheers and laughter overpowered every thought that may have otherwise been running through Y/N’s mind as she poured a glass of gigglewater for herself. The Gryffindor house was tasked with organising the post-exam celebration this year, and its members were definitely up to it: banners in all four house colours were plastered on the walls, charmed paper cranes in the very same hues fluttering around happily, presumably the work of Hermione Granger.
Having filled her goblet to the brim, Y/N, brought it to her lips, taking a sip, which was spat out in surprise only seconds later.
“Fuck, shit, fuck, fuck,” she muttered to herself as she placed the goblet on one of the many tables placed around the room and moved in the direction opposite to the all-too-familiar seventh year Slythern who’d just entered with his usual posse.
She made her way through a thickening crowd, repeatedly apologising for bumping into people she barely knew and keeping her eyes glued to the ground in order to avoid ones she didn’t expect or want to see. As she absentmindedly walked past her classmates, she found herself bumping into a tall, auburn-haired figure. It soon turned around, a grin on the boy’s face and a sigh of relief slipping from her lips when she realised it was a familiar one.
“Weasley, thank god,” she spoke, only then realising how out of breath she was from the rush of her getaway.
“That is my name. Well, one of them,” George Weasley retorted, clearly tipsy.
“My ex just walked in here with a bunch of his cronies,” she continued, trying to ignore the way his eyes seemed to smile at her above the edge of his goblet as he took another sip of firewhiskey, “Could you just pretend we’re really deep in conversation so he wouldn’t come over? Please?” she pleaded.
Another reminder that you SHOULDN’T reupload my works
I’m visiting Pinterest right now and am shocked to see half of my gallery uploaded on the profiles of random people. This is a not so friendly reminder that you aren’t allowed to upload my pictures without permission otherwise, I will, just like in this case, request for your accounts to get deactivated!
Yes, Pinterest provides this lovely option to the rightful owners and I’m using it in every case. If you are guilty of this crime, I highly suggest you remove the drawings before I’m discovering them. Trust me, I have enough lovely friends and followers who are reporting such cases to me, be it on Facebook, VK, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest, or any other website for that matter.
If this doesn’t stop anytime soon I’m forced to not give you the full resolution to my drawings any longer, dull out the colouration, and plaster a huge “DO NOT UPLOAD” signature over the whole picture, ruining the drawing for everyone but me. I’m being nice by showing you the full image, don’t disrespect me by ignoring my rules.
It’s taken her the better part of three years, but Inez thinks she can finally say the city has begun to feel like home.
She wouldn’t go so far as to say she knows it like the back of her hand, but the endless maze of stores, restaurants, skyscrapers and more tourist traps than she cares to count - all packed a little too closely beside one another, a peculiar blend of business and fun - no longer seem as daunting as they did on her first day in the city.
These days she traipses up and down the busy streets like a born and bred Londoner, easily sidestepping tourists and cranky city workers as she ducks into her favourite haunts and makes her way down side roads and secret alleyways, deviating off the well trodden path like only someone who’s spent a fair amount of time losing their way and finding themselves again can do.
She’s learnt to love the chaos of it all. The smells, the sounds, - the constant thrumming of a city that never sleeps - the swarms of people that spill from the stores and crowd the pavements and pack the underground platforms from dawn till dusk, always in a rush to get to destinations unknown. Herself included.
In just three years she’s gone from hopelessly scouring the city’s complicated underground network with her nose planted firmly inside her handheld copy of the colourful map plastered on the walls of each station, to barely needing to spare it a glance as she hops from tube to tube during rush hour.
She taps her foot absentmindedly against the worryingly sticky floor as the train creaks to an abrupt halt, pre-recorded voice crackling out through tired old speakers overhead warning commuters to ‘mind the gap’ and ‘let passengers off the train before boarding’. Not that anyone pays any real attention to the latter command. Inez watches with a sort of muted fascination as, like clockwork, the doors slide open and a sea of men and women, all dressed in stiff suits in varying shades of blues, greys and blacks, with the occasional splash of colour every now and then, all begin to push and shove at one another, desperately hoping to either exit the carriage or force themselves onto it before the doors slide shut once again and they’re left waiting on the platform for the next train.
Summary: Dan and Phil play the ‘look into each other’s eyes and see who laughs first’ game but it ends up going in a quite different direction… (friends to lovers fic)
A/N: I can feel myself not going to post much in the next few weeks as school is taking overhand…
Phil let his hand go through his sweaty fringe, yawning loudly to himself. His eyes drifted from his laptop screen to the clock every few seconds; 2 am. He’d been editing his new video all day. He yawned again. He had told himself, sternly, to finish editing early, but somehow the complicated techniques of editing had been swapped for the addicting quirkiness of tumblr, and he had shamefully missed his deadline.
Voluntarily sloppy hands and lines because the initial goal was literally just a sketch. But. I couldn’t resist plastering colours in there. So I got rid of the construction lines but left some of the sketchy sketch lines. Her right arm is a failure too, and her left arm is skinnier than what I was aiming for, but it did come off better than expected )o)
For oxfordlunch and jamlockk (I started writing this Sunday but couldn’t get it to flow, but finished it today with the lovely Jam in mind)
Graham Michael Watson-Holmes has all the curiosity of his Papa and all the bravery of his Dad. This volatile combination means the fearless boy is constantly getting into scrapes.
John has always had medical supplies to hand for Sherlock, but now his kit includes an assortment of colourful and themed plasters especially for Graham. The most recent batch is pirate themed, because the 6 year old takes after his Papa that way.
Even wounds that don’t actually need a plaster are made better by the application of a pirate flag and a kiss from Dad.
One unexpectedly exothermic reaction and shattered Erlenmeyer flask later, John is examining Sherlock in their loo, checking for any injuries.
Silky curls have been combed free of any lingering shards, and John runs an antiseptic swab over a small slice on one of those heart-breaking cheekbones.
“Pretty much unscathed,” is John’s final diagnosis. “Unlike the worktop,” he adds with a wry grin at Sherlock, packing up his med kit once more.
Pale, violin callused fingers catch John’s wrist before he closes the bag. “No plaster?”
John shakes his head, but he’s grinning. He digs into the bag once more and swiftly covers the small scrape. The skull-and-crossbones are now emblazoned across Sherlock’s right cheek. “There.”
Once John might have thought that Sherlock would protest the frankly childish plaster, but instead he receives that grin… the genuine one that is just for John, not the quick smirk seen by others, but a beaming smile that slowly takes over his whole face.
John snaps the bag shut and heads to put it away in their bedroom closet, when he’s finds himself captured and pressed against the loo door by his taller husband.
“What about my kiss? You always kiss it better when Graham gets hurt,” Sherlock rumbles, somehow managing to sound both sultry and petulant. John leans up and brushes a chaste kiss over the plaster on his cheekbone.
“There. And after you go sweep up the kitchen and make sure there aren’t any shards that Graham or I might step on…come to bed and I’ll make sure all of you is better, hmm?” His brow arches as he gives Sherlock a significant look.
A token sigh of protest, but Sherlock releases him and they head out of bathroom.
As Sherlock heads back towards the kitchen to clean up his mess, the Jolly Roger a dark slash across his pale cheek, John can’t help but grin.
glowing under the faint sun rays as it settled behind rosy skies. White
smile, pink lips right under his mole, stretching to the further corners. His collarbones prominent, peeking
right beneath the neck of his loose tee. She thought she’d never see him again.
Soft breeze grazing through his hazel locks. Warmest colour of red
plastered across the apple of his cheeks. She thought she’d never see him
again, until their eyes met and her head swayed around before he could even acknowledge
whom she was. His smile twitching ever so slightly, not taking the chance to
call out for her.
Summary: In which Jimin is Jungkook’s American History tutor, and Jungkook can’t help but fall for his tutor.
Word count: 2 056
Type: Angst / Fluff
A/N: This scenario is the first scenario posted according to our OTP Month. yay! I sincerely hope yiu baby stars do enjoy this scenario, and many others that will be coming up soon! Just a warning, I was reading The Perks Of Being A Wallflower while I was in the middle of writing this, so this scenario will be kind of triggering? depressing? I’m sorry if it is! There will be happy and fluffy scenarios posted soon, I promise! x
Happy reading! x
“Are you even listening to me?”
Jungkook was pulled out of his deep stare which was purely concentrated on the magical crafting of Jimin’s hands that delicately pushed away the sight of his phone that displayed a text from someone Jungkook saw didn’t have a name in Jimin’s phone but a red heart emoji. Jungkook frowned when he saw that. Of course, Jimin just had to be taken, he was too beautiful not to be.
“Honestly, no.” Jungkook answered Jimin - his American History tutor - with a simple and closed mouth smile.
Jimin chuckled lightly at the younger boy’s honesty, glancing over at his phone that lit up once again, this time showing that Jimin was getting a call from this ‘heart emoji’ person. Jungkook rolled his eyes at the sight. Jimin sheepishly apologized, taking his phone as he stood up from his chair and walked away to talk to the “heart emoji person” in private. But Jungkook was the nosy type, especially when it came to Jimin, and hid behind a white painted wall and quietly listened to Jimin’s conversation.
“I’m at Jungkook’s house.”
“No, I’m not. I’m just tutoring the boy.”
“I’m really tutoring him!”
“Don’t you trust me?”
Jimin was quiet for a while and Jungkook debated whether the heart emoji person had hung up on him or just had a lot to say. Just then, he heard Jimin sniff and right at that moment, he knew Jimin had started crying.
“I love you.”
The sad thing is, the heart emoji person never said he loved Jimin back and just hung up the phone, leaving him standing there all alone in that chilly hallway with a heart that had a hole which grew bigger and bigger the longer he stayed in his current relationship. Jungkook nibbled on his bottom lip, shaking his head in disapproval as he thought of why would Jimin get into a relationship with someone who always made him cry, or always made him feel bad about himself. He really couldn’t understand why.
Jungkook quietly walked back to the room that they were both studying in, heating Jimin walk in moments afterwards, his eyes puffy and a pale red colour. Jimin plastered a smile to his face, the fake smile pulling Jungkook’s heart into two opposite directions as he heard Jimin say, “Umm, that’s all for today. I’ve got really important stuff to do right now. I’m sorry, and I hope you understand.”
Jungkook didn’t understand, but as always, whenever Jimin said this, he let him go and stayed up late that night, staring up at the dark ceiling and just thinking of why did he let Jimin go.
The next day at school, he saw Jimin with bruises that littered his precious face - a pale purple bruise around his right eye, a cut lip and bruised nose. Jungkook heavily sighed when he saw this, regretting that he let Jimin go but even if he tried to convince Jimin to stay, Jimin was loyal to his heart emoji significant other and would leave Jungkook, who actually loved him.
Jungkook stood by his rusting locker, placing his books into his locker without a thought as he stared at Jimin, who wasn’t that far away from where he stood. Jimin was frantically searching through his locker, almost looking petrified as he looked for something he had presumably lost.
Suddenly, a boy, not even remotely attractive in Jungkook’s opinion creeped up on Jimin. Jimin froze when he realized someone was behind him, his chest not moving for a long moment before he slowly turned around and smiled nervously at the boy.
Jungkook arched his eyebrow, questioning what was going on before he witnessed Jimin lean in and just about to kiss the boy on the lips, but the boy brought his book to his face which resulted in Jimin kissing the surface of the book.
Jungkook watched on in surprise as Jimin flushed a pastel pink that showed how embarrassed he sincerely was, his boyfriend talking to Jimin, the boy nodding so quickly that Jungkook thought his head might fall off before Jimm shut his locker, running after his boyfriend, bumping into Jungkook in the process.
“Sorry.” Jimin instantly apologized as he collided with Jungkook, in too much of a rush to see that it was Jungkook he bumped into and quickly ran after his abusive boyfriend, Jungkook watching the whole scene with a deep frown spread across his face.
“What was the period in American History where the Stock Market crashed and banks ran out of money, resulting in many people losing their jobs and having little money?” Jimin questioned Jungkook, who sat with his hands in lap while Jimin walked behind him, not wanting him to see the bruises on his face (even though Jungkook did see them).
“The Great Depression?” Jungkook spoke unsurely, the uncertainty in his voice bringing a smile to Jimin’s face that always made an appearance whenever he was around Jungkook.
“Correct. You’re improving, Jungkook,” Jimin praised young Jungkook, reaching his hand out and lovingly ruffling Jungkook’s hair, the younger boy smiling a lovesick smile while he could physically feel his heart grow more and more fond of his tutor. “Okay, onto the next question. What was the 1920’s time period called? And what did people in the city do for entertainment?”
“The Roaring 20’s,” Jungkook answered diligently, nodding his head as if he was confirming to himself that he was indeed right, “And the people in the cities went to the movies for entertainment.”
“What kind of movies did they watch and why were they so popular?” Jimin further questioned, clutching the American History text book to his chest as he stared directly Jungkook, his eyes never growing tired of taking in the younger boy’s features - from his dark brown hair that gradually grew curly as time passed by to the pinkness of his small lips. Jungkook was a perfect painting of perfection, and was nice enough to Jimin that it made his heart swell with delight, knowing that there was actually someone out there who cared about him.
“They watched silent movies,” Jungkook answered, “But…I’m not sure about the other question.”
“You can try. I believe in you.” Jimin encouraged the boy, the boy turning his head and looking up at Jimin, the lighting in the room making him appear as some heavenly angel as his eyes sparkled and his white clothing just whispered heavenly over and over again.
“Because there was a lot of immigrants that went to America that didn’t speak English, but could still enjoy the movie.” Jungkook answered proudly, showcasing his precious bunny smile that caused Jimin to smile as well, his eyes beginning to smile themselves.
“Correct!” Jimin cheered, the boys giving one another a high-five before Jimin said, “I told you you could do it.”
The boys just stared at each other for a long moment, taking in each other’s features and thinking how God damn beautiful and angelic the other one was and desperately wishing that somehow, someway they could be together. Even if it was for just one day. Just one day.
“Jimin? Where the fuck are you?!”
Jimin’s eyes widened, fear quickly pumping through his veins as he remained paralyzed for a split second before his hands began to shake. Jungkook raised his eyebrow, wondering who could of walked straight into his house without his permission, but didn’t have to wonder long as Jimin’s boyfriend walked into the room.
“Jimin? What the fuck? We were suppose to meet up thirty minutes ago!” Jimin’s boyfriend raised his voice, Jimin shaking at the sound of his loud voice as he looked down at the ground.
Jimin slowly turned around, holding the textbook close to his chest and hoping to God or whatever higher power that this wouldn’t always end up like it always did. He didn’t want anyone to know, especially Jungkook. He was too pure to know of such ugly things that happen to some people.
“I’m sorry,” Jimin apologized sincerely, hating that he found himself saying exactly this phrase repeatedly around his boyfriend. “I lost track of time.”
“You always lose track of time,” Jimin’s boyfriend complained with an angered expression growing on his face, “Once in a while, put me first, kay?”
“I’m so-” Jimin was just about to apologize yet again, but Jungkook interrupted him. “You’re such a dick.”
Jimin’s eyes suddenly enlarged, looking over at Jungkook and giving him a warning look that screamed don’t get involved but after seeing how mistreated Jimin was by the one person that was suppose to treat him best and how many scars and bruises his boyfriend caused, Jungkook couldn’t help but ignore Jimin’s warning gaze and finally do what he should of done a long time ago.
“What did you say?” Jimin’s boyfriend quizzed, pretending as if he didn’t hear Jungkook to make the younger boy rethink his words.
Jungkoook stood up, Jimin not taking this as a sign that something bad was to come and just watched as Jungkook stood before his boyfriend and said, “Did I stutter?”
Jimin’s boyfriend let out a snicker of amusement, looking past Jungkook, who stood before him with an intimidating look and said to Jimin, “You’ve got to be kidding me. This must be some kind of lame joke.”
“I’m afraid there’s no joke here, except you, of course.” Jungkook retorted with a teasing raised eyebrow, standing tall before a guy who was a few years older than him.
Out of nowhere, Jimin’s boyfriend had grabbed the front of Jungkook’s shirt with a tight grip, Jungkook not even shocked or surprised by the action while Jimin cried out, “Don’t hurt him! Please!”
“You’re a little punk, aren’t you?” Jimin’s boyfriend whispered, his words oozing with poison venom. “Stay out of this. It’s none of your fucking business.”
“It is my business when the person I love is being abused by someone who isn’t even remotely attractive.” Jungkook answered truthfully, Jimin looking up from his gaze on the ground and batting his eyelashes, stunned that Jungkook would make such a revelation, especially at this moment in time.
“That’s it.” Jimin’s boyfriend stated, all before all hell broke lose, the sound of pained groans and bodies hitting the ground echoing throughout the cold house.
Jimin rushed over as soon as he saw Jungkook dodge a punch from his boyfriend, but receive one from Jungkook. He tried to pull them away from one another, risking getting injured but he didn’t care - he just wanted everything to just stop. Eventually, the fight did come to an end, Jimin’s boyfriend standing up from the wooden floor, spitting out a mouthful of blood before he loudly said, “We’re done, Jimin.” and then left.
Jimin stared out the open door for a long moment, realizing that he was now a free man and didn’t have to attend to his needs anymore because they were no longer dating. He hadn’t felt this alive and this happy in a long time. He turned to Jungkook, a soft smile of happiness spread across his face as he held out his hand, Jungkook giving the boy that bunny smile that Jimin loved endlessly before Jimin helped him up.
“Thanks,” Jungkook thanked the boy with a bashful smile and blush tinted cheeks, “I’m just gonna go and take care of these bruises.”
Jimin only nodded, Jungkook letting out a small sigh before he turned to walk towards the bathroom, his footsteps coming to a halt when he heard Jimin ask, “Did you really mean what you said back there?”
Jungkook stared down at the ground, a fond smile gradually developing on his face as he reminisced about all the times he had spent with Jimin and realized that, oh god he was in love with him. “Yes, I did.”
Jungkook heard the sounds of Jimin’s bare feet softly scrape against the smooth wooden floor, the footsteps drawing even closer and closer before Jimin’s vanilla scent filled his nostrils as he felt Jimin wrap his arms around him from the back. They remained in this position for had seemed like eternity, but was really only a long minute. Jimin smiled, breathing in Jungkook’s scent of cheap cologne and sunshine and responded with, “I love you, too.”
Our ask box is currently open, so feel free to request any scenarios, recations, drabbles, imagines, snaps & texts, convo imagines, selca ships, mtl’s and written ships! x
I am stringing these chapters together into a single love story that takes place over twenty years. I chose ‘Treasured Memory’ for the second day of the challenge although ‘Childhood’ still applies. The characters are eight and nine years old.
“Holy crap! Your room is so clean!”
Gilbert dropped his backpack in the centre of the bedroom and twirled around in a circle. Matthew had tucked his clothes into a basket in the corner, stacked his toys in a wooden crate, and turned down his blankets for the evening. His pajamas were folded and laid out on the pillow. His stuffed bear was on the windowsill.
It was the first time that Gilbert had ever been allowed to sleepover at his house.
After chapter and chapter of TTDP, (don’t worry it’s still on going), I decided to take a break and do a little one shot. This is inspired from an prompt given by the lovely destiny919 and the song “Kiss Me” by Ed Sheeran aka my other boyfriend. This was written and listed via my phone so sorry for any errors etc. Hope you enjoy!
“Almost there Lydia, I promise. Hold on”.
The bedroom door burst open to reveal a soaking wet Stiles who was carrying a equally rain drenched Lydia. Her face was hidden against his neck and although her hands were clinging to him tightly, she was weak in his arms.
“We’re home now Lydia, you’re okay. We’re going to get you warm and dry.” The boy carefully placed her onto his bed before diving into his bathroom to retrieve a bundle of towels.
He kneeled beside his unmade bed, Lydia looking tiny in the mess of blankets. She was shivering, her usual vibrant curls now a dark auburn colour and plastered across her pale cheeks.
Her lips were blue.
Panic rose in Stiles’ chest and it came bubbling out of him in a rush of words as he watched the girl slowly close her eyes.
“Lydia! Hey Lydia, wake up. Come on, keep those eyes open for me.”
Lydia’s eyes fluttered and her faze was unfocused as it rested upon the boys face.
Recollection came back to her as she realised she was in Stiles bedroom.
She had had a banshee episode, a horrifically strong and powerful one. She was led into the woods by unseen force and she screamed until her throat was raw and her tears couldn’t be controlled. She screamed for what seemed hours in the relentless rain that slammed into her from the purple skies.
When Scott, Stiles and the sheriff arrived, she had taken one look at then, broken her scream and fell to the ground.
Stiles had taken her home. He had carried her to and from his keep, his own body holding little warmth as he cradled her small frame. Her eyes flickered again, the dim light from the lamp beside her illuminating the features of the concerned boy.
He sighed in relief as she came to once more.
“Hey pretty girl, welcome back.”
If Lydia had the energy, she would have blushed.
Her voice hoarse and broken, her lips numb and painful, she managed to whisper: “I’m so cold Stiles”.
The boy leapt into action and within minutes her soaked jacket was eased from her shoulder, her shoes placed on the warming radiator. A towel was wrapped around her limp curls and the boy hesitated at the zip of her dress.
Lydia gave a small, sleepy smile, “It’s okay. I don’t have the energy Stiles, my arms won’t reach. I’m too cold”. She gave another violent shudder that made Stiles’ mind up.
Delicately, he unzipped her floral dress and flung it to the corner of the room were it was already forming a puddle of water.
He would deal with it later.
Stiles did is his best to keep his eyes downcast, but having Lydia Martin in his bed in only her emerald green underwear, was proving difficult.
She shivered again. Her usually creamy skin looked deathly pale and her lips were now tinged a frightening shade of purple.
Stiles ran his hands up and down her bare arms and legs soothingly, hoping and praying that she would warm quickly.
Another tremor ran through Lydia’s body and Stiles’ voice held fear when he groaned, “I don’t know what to do. Will I run a bath? Help me help you, Lydia, please-“
He was cut off by a murmur of words that barely left her lips, however, he heard her - loud and clear.
“Take your clothes of Stiles and get into bed with me.”
Settle down with me.
Cover me up, cuddle me in.
The boy swallowed noisily and gaped at her through hooded, chocolate eyes. His rain soaked hair was a mess that fell across his forehead.
With shaking hands, he pushed his fringe back and his eyes met hers.
Even through her pain and shaking, Lydia managed to roll her eyes.
“Body heat,” she ground out through shivers, “Skin to skin contact. It’ll help us both warm up faster”.
Never one to argue with Lydia, Stiles simply nodded and lowered his hands to the hem of his shirt.
“Lydia, are you sure-“.
The girl let out a whimper as another tremor rocked through her. Her voice was hoarse and weak as she moaned, “Goddammit Stiles, please!”
Lie down with me, and hold me in your arms.
He didn’t question her again and he peeled his wet top off of his body; it fell to the floor with a heavy smack. His hands stalled at his belt buckle and he shivered from both the cold and nerves.
He gazed down at Lydia who had cocooned herself in his duvet. Her eyes were dull and hazy, her teeth chattering angrily against each other. With a sigh of resolution, he quickly undid his belt and jeans button, the dark denim falling quickly to the floor with the weight of the water.
He carefully slid into bed beside Lydia in only his boxers as she held the covers open for him with weak and shaking arms.
In an instant, she was by his side, her ice cold skin making him gasp and flinch.
“I’m sorry!” She mumbled.
“It’s okay, don’t worry”, Stiles soothed, “Come here”. He held his arms open for her and within seconds she was in them.
And your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed in my neck.
I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.
And with a feeling I’ll forget, I’m in love now.
Lydia moved without hesitation, practically climbing onto the boys lap and into his warm, open arms.
She intertwined their bare legs without a second though, skin on skin and achingly warm. She trembled still and Stiles held her tighter. With careful consideration, he placed one arm on her lower back, avoiding the band of her bra and he rubbed soothing circles into her skin. The other hand fell naturally on her hip, where he held tight, pulling her tiny, freezing body into his own - willing his warmth to transfer to her quickly.
They sat surround by pillow, blankets and each other in complete silence. The rain was the only sound as it continuously battered against the window.
“So, this is scientifically proven huh?” Stiles voice spoke softly into her hair.
Still too cold to exert too much energy, Lydia simply nodded against his chest.
“I should start paying more attention in class”.
Despite the situation, Lydia let out a breath of laughter and Stiles smiled. The girl shifted until her head face was pressed into his neck and he felt her lips pressed there - the coldness radiating off of them in waves. Her eyelashes tickled his skin and he could feel her heart match the beat of his own inside his chest.
They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes and both wondered over the fact that they felt minimal embarrassment despite their current predicament.
Their friendship didn’t call for them to see each other partially dressed - never mind wrapped up in each other in bed. Nevertheless, Stiles held Lydia with ease and she had no problem sighing contentedly into his chest. Stiles marvelled at Lydia’s skin - it’s was still so cold but it was amazingly soft and smooth. His hands went on a journey of their own over her waist and down her hips, round and across her arms and back. Eventually his fingers trailed lazily up and down her sides; to which Lydia only moved closer to. Her shivers had subsided and Stiles asked how she was feeling.
The girl shifted and looked up at him from her spot on his chest. She smiled tiredly and spoke with a hushed voice.
“I’m okay. I’m not as cold, you’re nice and warm”. To prove her point, she draped herself back across his body and wrapped her arms around him.
Kiss me like you wanna be loved, you wanna be loved, you wanna be loved.
This feels like falling in love, falling in love. We’re falling in love.
He pressed an innocent kiss to her now drying curls, before softly untangling the ends that lay splayed across her shoulders. Lydia smiled and in return, pressed a soft, cold kiss to his collarbone. She watched from under her eyelashes in fascination as his skin erupted in goosebumps.
Curious and probably still a little out of it, she placed another to his skin. And another, this time higher and on his shoulder. Next, she bravely placed her open lips onto his neck.
Stiles had stilled, dropping a lock of hair and was watching Lydia with surprised eyes.
She lifted her head and met his amazed expression with a small, shy smile.
“What you doing there, pretty girl?”
Settle down with me, and I’ll be your safety.
You’ll be my lady.
Lydia didn’t really have an answer for her actions, instead she continued to smile and simply shrugged - letting herself tumble back into the warmth he now radiated. She smiled warmly at his words and what he had called her - so used to normally hearing “hot” and the gentlemanly “nice ass babe”. His arms went back around her and minutes passed before his hands mapped out her skin once more.
This time, they travelled across the top of her thighs, warming each cold spot that had previously been neglected. Within seconds, Lydia was burning and she lay still - hardly breathing - as she let Stiles explore.
He never wandered too far, his rough plans remaining fairly chaste. As they slid along her hips and across the dip in her waist, Lydia became dangerously warm and eventually lifted her head to meet his gaze once more.
I was made to keep your body warm,
but I’m cold as the wind blows so hold me in your arms.
The room was bathed in silence, even the rain had stopped it’s unrelenting roar. Moonlight flooded through the slightly open curtains and Lydia inhaled sharply at the molten chocolate eyes that started back at her. Her mouth parted involuntarily as Stiles ran his thumb ever so gently across her bottom lip. His touch left a trail of fire.
His voice was deep and hoarse as he said, “Your lips are better. They’re not blue anymore”. His eyes slowly surveyed her face, always watching for a sign that he had stepped too far, too much out of their friendship boundaries. He never did.
Lydia could only nod dumbly; she was now aware more than ever of her scantily clad body, Stiles’ own bare chest and the growing heat between her legs.
With careful movements, Stiles placed his large hands on each side of Lydia’s waist and he pulled her into him. With her now sitting between his legs, she was closer than ever and he could see the tiny freckles that were dusted across her cheeks.
Her wide eyes blinked at him curiously as he delicately tucked a stray curl behind her ear. He licked his lips and nerves were evident on his face.
My heart’s against your chest, your lips pressed in my neck.
I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.
And with this feeling I’ll forget, I’m in love now.
“Lydia, can I kiss you?” His voice was broken and hushed, in fact, Lydia barely heard him.
At his words, the girls heart trembled and soared against her ribcage. No one had ever asked her that. No one ever asked, they expected. Her throat clenched at the silly tears that threatened to escape and she smiled a watery smile as she nodded.
Joy erupted on the boys face and Stiles took her face in his hands.
Moving closer, the tip of his nose brushed hers and her heart leapt once more. Stiles could feel her long lashes fan out across his cheeks and they shared a breath.
Kiss me like you wanna be loved, you wanna be loved, you wanna be loved.
This feels like falling in love, falling in love. We’re falling in love.
Their lips met softly and without any rush nor hesitation. Like their bodies, they fit together perfectly. Their kiss was gentle and delicate and achingly tender.
Stiles held Lydia like she was the most precious thing in the world and the girl was ready to burst at the sweetness of it all.
Instead, she moved as close as she could and wound her arms around his neck - sinking her fingers into his thick hair. He groaned at the contact and their kiss deepened, tongues meeting tongues and teeth nibbling at lips.
With heavy breaths and overheated bodies and minds - they eventually separated - staring at once another with hooded eyes and parted lips.
Catching his breath, Stiles ran a finger along her collarbone: “Feeling warmer?”
Struggling to speak, Lydia simply nodded and let herself fall into his arms again, delirious with emotions.
They lay together, wrapped up in one another all night. They shared body heat and more slow, burning kisses.
Eventually they fell asleep the way they had started their night, intertwined with each other.
Headcanon: Bones would totally call Spock and Jim's daughter "little goblin."
bones would just turn to mush in t’androma’s presence like he adores babies in general but a teeny weeny one with huge blue eyes and pointy little ears and jim kirk’s smile just destroys him he’s drawn to her like a freakin magnet every time she’s in the room
and then when she’s older whenever she knows she’s in trouble with her fathers she just goes running straight to him and tearfully explains the situation because no matter how much he frowns and sighs and pretends to be growly and gruff she knows he’ll never ever get mad at her and will stand behind her and squeeze her shoulders when she works up the courage to go and apologise
and he keeps a stash of cute colourful plasters in his draw just for when she gets cuts and grazes and he keeps a special fuzzy blanket under his desk that he wraps around her and lets her cry into whenever either of her dads is missing or sick or lying unconscious swaddled in bandages in the medbay and when he’s in a good mood he’ll even let her look through his best microscope and he has a whole plethora of pet names for her ranging from darlin to peach pie to little goblin to sweetheart (though sweetpea is reserved just for carol)
and when she’s much older, jim tells her quietly that the enthusiastic affection probably has a lot to do with how much bones misses his own baby girl and about him making up for the time he missed with joanna by being there for her instead
but that doesn’t change anything and certainly doesn’t stop t’androma, even when she’s all grown up, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek and calling him uncle bones and beaming at him until his eyes soften and the years melt off him and he smiles back
I WAS THE ANON WHO REQUESTED THE AKASKI S/O BROKE HER WRIST AND I KNOW THE ASK BOX IS CLOSED (????? Is it????) BUT I NEED A FLUFFY PART TWO WITH LOTS OF KISSES PLEASE
-TRIES TO GET OVER WRITER’S BLOCK- IM SO SORRY THE FIRST PART WAS ANGSTY T - T HOPE THIS MAKES YOU FEEL ALL SDKLGJSDKLJDGAS PANICKY AKASHI IS A NICE O/C AKASHI [I remember my physic teacher’s son broke both of his arms and he got christmas coloured plaster sOOO im pretty sure you can get any colour plaster o u o] [D/H] = dominant hand aka the one you use to write with.
You were sitting in a wheel chair, swinging your feet contently despite the situation you were in. Sure you had broken your wrist and got a few bruises, but it was okay. Looking down at your hand you eyed the [F/C] plaster. It was tightly bounded around your wrist and you felt your shoulders tense up as you realized how many weeks you would have to have it on.
Stairs and you had never been friends; despite constant warnings from friends, family and even Akashi telling you to walk slower and take your time on them, you kept running up and down staircases without a care. That was mistake one. Mistake number two was how not looking at your feet while you walked down with your backpack that was filled with textbooks. Mistake three? Falling on your [D/H].You weren’t sure who helped you to the hospital since you lost consciousness a few minutes after, but all you knew now was that you had to stay overnight just to make sure nothing internally had been damaged.
When you got a call from Akashi’s chauffeur saying they would be coming, you had taken it upon yourself to wheel out of your room and towards the elevator. Unfortunately moving yourself with one hand was not the easiest thing to do and soon you were out of breath, beads of sweat falling from your forehead. “Need help?” You smiled shyly when a nurse walking into the hall noticed you. Just as you nodded, she hand her hands gripped on the handles, ready to push you to wherever you were going.
Just as you were about to board the elevator, the doors opened to reveal a panicked looking Akashi. As his eyes met yours, the tenseness in his face seemed to disappear-he moved towards you, bowing slightly to the nurse. “Thank you for taking care of my girlfriend.”
“O-Oh,” The nurse looked a bit taken aback, “it’s not problem. Part of the job you know.”
“I can take it from here.” Without another word Akashi took the handles of your wheelchair and pushed you back to your room. “What happened?” He asked.
“W-Well, I had a lot of homework so I stuffed my bag with all my textbooks and went down the stairs with [Best Friend] when I slipped and…” You raised your plastered hand to his eyes. “…this happened.”
You suddenly recalled the sickening cracking sound you heard when you fell.It was a loud crunch that immediately sent waves of pain throbbing in your wrist. You felt nauseous almost.
At your room he stopped and pulled a chair towards you so he can face you. You gulped at how close he was; the way his eyes seemed to roam everywhere. “A-Akashi you’re making me nervous.”
Ignoring your comment Akashi leaned closer, taking a better look at any exposed skin.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” He placed his hand on your forehead, frowning slightly. “You’re pale, are you sure you’re okay?”
“I-I-I’m fine. I j-just have some bruises.” You bit your lip.
He sighed as he moved his hand away. Instead he cupped your cheeks and placed his forehead against yours. Eyes closed, his thumbs moved in small, gentle circles. “I thought it was more serious.”
You pouted. “Why would you think that?”
“Because,” You froze as he opened his eyes; his stare more intense, “you are my everything.”
“Wh-” You took a sharp breath as he tilted his head slightly, brushing his lips on yours as he leaned in. Akashi teased you as he ran his fingers on them. He let them linger slightly before moving in to bite your bottom lip. When he saw you tense up, he shook with silent laughter. Noticing your eyes droop to a close, he brought his lips to yours.
It became a sweet kiss; gentle; soft; reassuring. You ran a hand through his soft locks, nudging him closer as you yearned for the usual kisses he gave you-the rough ones. You felt Akashi smirk as you did so, but instead of taking the hint, all he did was pull back much to your dismay.
Moving from his seat, he kissed the top of your head and pulled you into his chest. You nuzzled closer to him, wrapping your arms around him. “You make me crazy.” Akashi mumbled as he inhaled the familiar scent he loved.
“Don’t do that again.”
Smiling, Akashi watched as you cuddled up to him. He knew he overreacted earlier, but really it was worth it-the anxiety he felt became the calm and serene feeling he had now; it made him feel peaceful. The comfort of knowing his girlfriend was okay made everything in his life seem alright again; it made Akashi for the first time realize that perhaps winning your heart was the best victory he may ever have the pleasure of calling his best achievement in life.