flush set

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Rosvolio + wedding night?

There was not enough wine in the world to ready Benvolio for what he was about to do.

God knows, he had done his best to fortify himself for the task at hand, having finished off several glasses of his uncle’s best Rhenish between all the feasting and the dancing – and, for his pains, was now feeling more than a trifle light-headed – but he could not yet bring himself to rise from his chair and make his way upstairs, where his all-too unwilling bride waited.

The ceremony had taken place that morning in Capulet’s cathedral, as his uncle had wished, for the remaining structural work had miraculously – and mysteriously – been completed before the arrival of autumn. All of Veronan society had turned out for the occasion, dressed their most colorful silks, velvets, and brocades, making the interior of the basilica resemble nothing less than a great casket of jewels. His bride, for her part, had made her way towards the altar dressed in a gown of deep cerulean blue, and Benvolio couldn’t help but notice the bodice, cut square and delectably low across her chest – before he had the good sense to shift his gaze upward.

As the assembled nobles stood watching, the two of them had knelt, their hands joined together by the bishop, followed by an exchange of vows in Latin. There was a brief mass, and those gathered took communion, beginning with the newly-married couple, both of them dutifully parting their lips to receive the body of their Lord. It had been difficult for Benvolio not to think back to the last wedding he had attended – a secret one, with only two witnesses, the ceremony performed by a humble friar – and draw altogether unfavorable comparisons. For all the misfortunes it had brought, his cousin’s marriage had at least been born out of love, not politics, and there had been no mistaking the joy and passion in the eyes of Romeo and his Capulet bride as they had uttered their vows in that candle-lit chapel. Benvolio’s new wife would not even look at him – although he could hardly blame her, given his rather cowardly lack of resistance to the news of their betrothal. And if her heart secretly belonged to another, as he had come to suspect, gazing upon his face would no doubt bring her only pain.

At the celebratory feast that evening, they had proved a somber pair as they sat together at the high table, sharing from the same plate and goblet, but saying almost nothing to each other. She drank but a half-glass of wine and ate very little, and part of him wondered if she planned to escape this marriage simply by refusing to eat, intent on wasting away from lack of sustenance. As the revelries proceeded into the night, Benvolio found himself reaching for the wine time and again, refilling the glass from the silver flagon that sat nestled among the platters of food. The warm evening air was heavy with torch-smoke, thick with the sounds of the drum and pipe as they sung out over the voices in the crowded courtyard, and Benvolio had slowly felt his head begin to spin with it.

In that haze, his eyes had found occasion to seek her out, drawn to her as to a lodestone, although he did not dare to let them linger long. For even in her silent indignation, his wife truly was beautiful – no man could deny it. In the warmth of the torchlight her skin shimmered with rich tones of gold and umber, pulling attention to the winged jut of her collarbones and the length of her neck. She had been endowed with wide, dark eyes, made more expressive by her frequent displays of wit, and a pair of full and rounded lips that seemed to have been formed for no other purpose than to be kissed. He remembered how she had once spoken of her desire to enter a convent – but by Saint Peter, what a waste that would have been.

Yet in the end it mattered not what he thought of her neck or her eyes or even the fullness of her lips, for she did not want him and had only consented to marry him by means of great persuasion from her uncle and the prince. And as Benvolio stared into his half-empty glass, he had realized he could not bear to have her think of him the same way, as yet another man who sought to break her will upon his own.

By and by, the night had grown late, the torches burning low within their sconces, and the time had come for the bride to take her leave and excuse herself from the assembled company. She had risen to her feet amid the ribald cheers and customary encomiums to her beauty and virtue, and just as quickly departed – all without a single glance in Benvolio’s direction. A pair of serving women had been directed to escort her upstairs to his chambers and there she was to make herself ready for bed.

Benvolio waited as long as he possibly could to follow, and he might have waited a while longer, had not his uncle come and clasped a strong hand around his shoulder.

“Go, Benvolio, and make a Montague of her,” he urged, nodding his head towards the stairs, “or at least put one in her.”

Benvolio’s face burned bright with shame – for they should all have been ashamed, having cruelly used this young maid as a pawn in their dealings – but his uncle mistook it for excitement and laughed lustily, quickly pulling Benvolio out of his chair and pushing him in the direction of his chamber.

His feet were like lead upon the stairs, a sharp contrast with his dizzy head, and a hopeful part of him latched onto the possibility that she had simply gone to sleep rather than await his arrival.

Alas, fortune did not favor him, for as he quietly opened the door he could see that a single candle had been left burning and his new bride was sitting up in bed, very much awake. She was clad in a nightgown of fine ivory linen, her unbound hair falling in loose curls over her shoulders. A pair of dark eyes instantly turned towards him, her hands stiff as she clutched the bedclothes tightly against her chest. He had not imagined that he could possibly feel more abashed, but the way she was staring at him, with equal parts defiance and fear written into her gaze, made his heart twist forcefully against his ribs. Had she imagined that he would straightaway attempt to claim his marital rights, he wondered, even in the face of her unwillingness? One look at her was all it took for him to know.

“Fear not, lady,” he muttered with a sigh, “I will not impose myself upon you.”

His words seemed to put her at ease, but only slightly, her wary eyes still fixed upon him as he stepped into the room.

“And what of tomorrow night, and the nights that follow?” she asked. “Will you say the same?”

“I will say it every night you do ask it of me,” he answered quietly, “for I am not the unrepentant blackguard you imagine every Montague must be.” Benvolio rubbed his hand along his forehead, a sudden weariness overtaking him. “But for tonight, put out thy candle and let us have peace. I will rest elsewhere…” – he nodded towards the long wooden bench set flush against the opposite wall – “…and leave you to your dreams.”

He did not wait to see her reaction, but made his way over to his makeshift bower and swiftly stripped himself down to his shirt and hose. It was not until he had laid down upon the bench, using his wadded-up doublet as a cushion for his head, that he realized she had not blown out the candle. Let her keep the light, he thought as he closed his eyes, if it brings her some comfort.

He had almost surrendered to the weight of sleep when he heard her shifting upon the mattress.

“I wonder, my lord,” she murmured, “if you had decided… to impose yourself, what might you have done?”

Benvolio’s eyes snapped open, uncertain that he had heard her true. He glanced over and saw that she had turned onto her side to face him, propping herself up upon an elbow. Something had shifted in her expression, for while she still held herself guardedly, she no longer looked quite so apprehensive, and her eyes glinted with a spark of curiosity. Still, in the thick fog of his mind he could not be sure she knew exactly what it was she was asking.

“What might I have done, when I came into the room?” he stammered.

She nodded, her gaze wide enough that he could see the light of the candle reflected there. Time seemed to slow for a moment, in the stillness of his half-darkened chamber, and all Benvolio could feel was the rough pounding of his heart within his chest. He did not entirely understand why she had thought to ask such a thing, but he would give her an answer – a truthful one.

“Well… to begin, I would have come to sit by your side, lady. For ‘tis all very dependent on proximity.”

“Of course,” she said, her features softening ever so slightly. “And then?”

The corner of his mouth tugged upward in a wry smile, the first time it had done so all day. “Perhaps I would have kissed you,” he said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Gently at first, and then with greater urgency.”

With her gaze still caught on his, she bit against the fullness of her bottom lip, perhaps in innocence, or perhaps to tease him – and with a tightening sensation in his belly, Benvolio realized he did not care in the slightest which it was.

“Is that all?” she asked.

He exhaled roughly, his breath half-mixed with laughter. “Oh, my Rosaline, had you no nursemaid to tell you of such things?” He paused and pursed his lips, taking her coy silence as his cue to continue with his answer. “No, ‘tis merely the beginning. For then I might have taken you into my arms and held you close, until naught remained to separate us.”

Her lips parted a little, her chest rising and falling with each breath. “And what of our clothes?”

“I would fain have us unclothed,” Benvolio replied, and her dark eyes widened, as if scandalized at the thought. “As husband and wife, there should be no secrets between us.” He swallowed hard, allowing his mind to momentarily cloud with visions of his new bride, her bare skin velvet-smooth and flush with yearning. Perhaps it was only the presence of such distracting thoughts that could explain the liberties he took in speaking to her so brazenly. 

“And I would wish to see you, my lady – all of you – as you laid back and pulled me down with my weight upon you. For then there would be nothing left but for me to possess you fully, our bodies joined together in the most intimate of ways.”

He fell silent, knowing not what else to say as he gazed at her, recumbent upon his bed, the wild tendrils of her hair spilling onto the sheets, her eyes shining with something that could only be desire. His breath came heavy, caught in his throat, his hunger for her coiling and nestling deep within his groin. Benvolio found himself filled with the compulsion to rise to his feet and make his way over to where she lay, so he might in fact begin to enact that sequence of events he had just described to her. Before he could do anything, though, she tilted her head, her gaze leveling him with cool appraisal.

“Perhaps it is fortunate, then, that you were compelled to restrain yourself,” she said, her eyebrows raised into uniform arches. “For now, armed with such knowledge, I feel wholly prepared to resist any advances should they be attempted.” She gave him one final shrewd glance before she put her lips up to the candle’s flame.

“Good night, my lord,” she whispered, and with a single breath plunged the room into darkness.

For a moment, Benvolio could only lay back upon the bench, fully awash in bewilderment and frustration, listening to the rustle of the bed linens as she settled herself down for sleep. But as he recalled the words that had just passed between them, he finally came to the realization that she had provoked him deliberately, drawing his mind towards thoughts of carnal pleasures all the while knowing she would allow him no satisfaction of them. But her response to his words had been clear enough – she could not have feigned such desire, could she? Jesu, what sort of bold little minx had he married?

And then he couldn’t help but smile, and shake his head, knowing that he had all the remaining days – and nights – of his life to figure it out.

[my Still Star-Crossed ficlets are on AO3 – read them here]

anonymous asked:

Hi I think you're amazing! I love your Robert and liv fics. Could you maybe write something about aaron catching them spending time together? Something fluffy and sweet.

this is utterly ridiculous but i love robert and liv more than life itself so i’m posting it anyway


There’s gentle music playing, that’s Aaron’s first clue that something isn’t right.

He freezes in the doorway when he sees them, keys hanging forgotten from this thumb.

They’ve pushed the kitchen table over to one side, turned on all the lights.

Liv’s got her hand fisted in the shoulder of Robert’s jacket, holding on for dear life as he twirls her across the kitchen floor.

Aaron’s mouth is hanging open, he knows it is, can’t seem to close it. What the hell?

He shuts the door as softly as he can, keeps close to the wall. They haven’t noticed him come in and there’s no way he’s going to disturb this. This is brilliant.

Robert swings her round, her feet skimming the floor until she’s laughing, kicking her legs like a little kid. It makes Aaron smile in response.

“Put me down!”

Robert’s grinning too, cheeks flushed. He sets her down, barely even out of breath. “You need to relax, it’s not rocket science. Just let me lead.”

Liv flaps her arms. “Lead what? I don’t know what we’re doing.”

Robert sighs, steps away, hands on hips. Aaron can see him trying not to get frustrated. Robert spends a lot of time being patient with Liv these days. Sharing DNA with Aaron buys you a lot of leeway when it comes to Robert and she takes great pleasure in pushing at it.

“Ben knows how to dance right?” Robert asks.

Aaron’s lip curls. Fucking Ben.

Liv gives Robert a dark look. “Obviously.”

Robert nods. “So you don’t need to. You just need to follow his lead. It’s only a party, you’re not on Strictly.”

Liv runs a hand down her ponytail, pulling it over her shoulder like a blanket. “I just don’t want to look like a prat,” she huffs. “I’m already going to look like a prat. I don’t know who I think I’m kidding.”

“You’re going to look beautiful,” Robert tells her, voice soft, “And you’re only going to make a prat of yourself if you don’t listen to me. Come here.”

Aaron has to put a hand across his mouth, chest swelling with something he can’t name when she steps up to Robert’s chest again, lets him lead her in an awkward little slow dance over to the sink and back again. She’s looking at her feet the whole time and he can see Robert biting back a smile.

The whole thing makes Aaron feel impossibly fond of the pair of them. He’s proud of the little family they’ve built together, dragged together really, from the scraps of them all.

He moves forward, wanting to be with them. Pockets his keys casually like he’s just coming in.

Liv steps on Robert’s foot when she spots Aaron mid spin, and Robert grunts as though she isn’t just in socks.

Liv puts a good amount of distance between herself and Robert with impressive speed. “What are you doing here?”

Robert looks equally mortified. Another treat.

Aaron gives her a look. “I live here. What are you doing?”

She folds her arms, cheeks on fire. “Nothing.”

“Really?” Aaron says, delighted, can’t help himself. “Because it looked like you were dancing.”

A sulky shrug. “Must be seeing things.”

Robert recovers better, rolls his eyes at the pair of them. “She’s going to that thing with Ben tomorrow, the charity thing Vic’s catering. I was just helping her out.”

“Showing her how the other half live?” Aaron says.

It’s funny really, that Liv’s the one with an arrogant arse of a boyfriend living up at Home Farm these days.

“Well she could hardly ask you, could she?” Robert points out, grabbing Aaron round the waist and pulling him in close.

It puts Aaron right up again his chest, where he’s broad and firm, too warm through his shirt.

Aaron slaps at him when Robert tries to shuffle him into a little sway, plants his feet. “Get off.”

Robert settles for holding him close and Aaron lets him. He’s quite content to be cuddled in his own kitchen, what else is it for?

“You two get more revolting every day,” Liv announces, pushing between them. “Now go away, I was just starting to get it.”

Eventually Aaron agrees to leave them to it, there’s bound to be a pint with his name on at the pub. He can’t wait to tell his mum about this.

Maas University: Part Two


The sun started to disappear over the brick buildings of Maas University, painting the sky pink and gold; clouds stretched out for miles. Cassian’s heart felt heavy in his chest as he and Nesta crossed the parking lot, weaving past dozens of teenagers. He didn’t want to leave; he made himself put one foot in front of the other, making way to his jeep.

Leaning against the vehicle, Cassian eyed the sunset, the sky making the red finish on the jeep darker. Crossing his ankles, Cassian’s heart squeezed inside his chest as he leaned back, his elbow resting against the hood.

Waiting beside him, Nesta’s face was imperial and closed off, her blue grey eyes bright against the setting sun; eyelashes casting shadows onto her ivory skin. Taking her hand in his, he brought it to his lips before brushing her knuckles with his thumb. Shoulders relaxing almost imperceptibly, his wife looked at him. She didn’t want to leave either.

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anonymous asked:

How would UT Sans, UF Sans, US Papyrus, SF Papyrus and Horrortale Sans react to walking in on their sleeping s/o who is cuddling up to their jacket/hoodie because they missed them while they were out working?

Aww this is so cute!




Classic always thinks about you whenever you two aren’t together, so when he’s at work, you’re on his mind the whole time. When he comes home, he wants to go up and give you big hugs and kisses, but instead, he doesn’t find you in the living room. So he looks around a little and finds you sleeping on the bed, holding onto his sweatshirt. His cheekbones turn blue and he smiles a wonderful, pleasant smile. He goes up and sits at the edge of the bed and just kind of looks at you for a few minutes, how you look so peaceful cuddled up to his jacket, and how your hair is so adorably messy, too! Eventually, he gently shakes you to wake you up, and hugs you, laying next to you. You’re thankful he’s home and you explain that you missed him in a lazy tone, but Classic doesn’t care. He tells you you’re adorable and kisses you, and the two of you take a nap together.



Red likes to call out when he’s home so you know it’s him, he knows you get defensive when you’re not sure what’s going on. So he calls out, “I’m home, sweetheart,” and gets a little nervous when he doesn’t hear you reply. The first place he looks is in the living room, and you’re there- but you’re asleep. Your back is facing toward him so when he walks around you to see your face, he notices that you’re cuddling with his jacket, and he blushes a little. He finds himself staring at you, and then realizes it’s probably really creepy and looks away. Red lets you hold onto his sweatshirt and covers you in a blanket, and lets you wake up on your own. When you do wake up, Red is asleep next to you, cuddling with one of your shirts as well.



Usually, you greet Honey when he comes home, but when you aren’t by the door when he walks in, he restrains from freaking himself out. He’s a very logical guy, so he already assumes you’re just busy doing something in the house and couldn’t be by the front, or if you aren’t home, that you’re just out and about, and you’ll answer when he texts. So he casually walks to the bedroom and sees you sleeping, holding onto his jacket. Like every other skele, he ends up blushing a little, and then lays next to you. He finds it so cute how you cuddle with his jacket that way, how it covers your cute little nose and your hair is adorably messy, and how you’re all curled up around it. Honey curls up around you and falls asleep, and when you wake up, you just roll over, cling to him, and fall asleep again.



Rus comes home and actually sees you at the kitchen table, leaned forward and head resting on his jacket. You must’ve just been waiting for him to come home, got bored, and fell asleep. He loves how you hold onto his sweatshirt the way you do. Rus gently picks you up, and you wake up in his arms as he carries you to bed. Since you’re still sleepy, you softly smile and mumble a “Welcome home” and NOW his cheekbones flush. He sets you in bed, kisses you, and lets you fall asleep with his jacket again, sitting next to you rubbing your back until you do.



Since Horror’s job tends to get gory, whenever he comes home, the first thing he does is showers, since he knows you don’t wanna hug him when he’s got someone else’s blood on his bones. So he just goes straight to the shower first, and when he comes out, he goes to the laundry room to put his clothes in there and heads to the bedroom to grab clean ones. He finds you curled up to his jacket and freezes, looking. He slowly dresses into shorts, at least that, and then climbs onto the bed next to you. You wake up from the movements and a little smile spreads on your face as you see him next to you, looking at you with a soft expression. You turn and kiss him, and hug him tightly, and he holds you as you fall asleep again in his arms. He eventually falls asleep too.

Cookie Talk

Originally posted by bovaria

One Shot

Summary: Based on an idea which hit me while I have the urge to make cookies but my stupid eating healthy way of living for the month won’t allow me to. While at T’Challa’s base in Wakanda you can’t help but take over the kitchen to make some cookies. Your day was hell while you trained with Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers and baking is how you deal with things.

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Warning: None, fluffy as all get out.

Every muscle in your body was strained and sore and all you wanted was to take a hot shower and just relax for the night. Of course you were too wound up after the last two hours of training first with Sam and then with Steve. The two might be fun loving and full of smiles but they were both intense to train with and you weren’t sure if you would be able to handle it much longer. You were told it would be easier with time but the three of you had this training routine in past for at least a week and you were still sore and regretting agreeing to this whole situation.

Unlike many of those at the Wakanda base you weren’t some form of security, an ex-Avenger ex-military or anything else of the sort. You were studying different forms of technology and practical uses of Vibranium, the Wakanda government had gotten a hold of one of your essays on the topic and offered you a student Visa of sorts. Now T’Challa and his scientists had you assisting them as they worked on creating a new arm for James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the former Winter Solider. Sam and Steve worried over your safety with working on such a dangerous project even though you were supposedly safe within the confines of the base.

That of course only added to your stress and urge to just let it all go and unwind, in theory that should be easy to do but in action you found it far harder to do. That was why you were currently in the large and lavish kitchen, ‘Superheroes’ by the Script was blaring over the kitchen sound system which was attached to your phone. Your hips swayed to the music and you quietly sang along while mixing another batch of homemade chocolate chip cookie mix. The sweet aroma of the pervious batch baking filled the kitchen and easily wafted down the halls along with the sound of your music echoing your presence in the kitchen.

Your sweat pants rested low on your hips and your worn Wakanda University shirt covered your upper half your bare feet tapping along to the music while you sang unware of the intimidating presence in the doorway. The smell attracting the illusive Bucky Barnes and causing him to still in the door frame as he watched you. Normally the Super Soldier avoided everyone who was currently working on the project of his new arm unless he had to be fitted or test it. These people here weren’t his friends after all, T’Challa only helping because he realized the truth and how dangerous a heart of vengeance was.

You didn’t hear Bucky clearing his throat as he tried to get your attention since the music was too loud for you hear anything sort of yelling. After all it wasn’t like you needed to be on high alert despite what Sam and Steve thought. As a hand fell on your shoulder you released an uncharacteristic scream and grabbed hold of the only weapon you had, the wisk, and hit your supposed attacker eyes squeezed shut in fear. Really you wouldn’t be so paranoid if Sam and Steve hadn’t made you feel like you should be. Your (y/c/e) hues sprang open at the startled sound which came from the unknown assailant, the widened farther as you realized exactly who it was your pale lips opening to from a small ‘o’ as the blood rushed to your face your neck and cheeks flushing as realization set in.

“I’m so sorry Bucky! Sam and Steve just have me so on edge with all this training like they think something is coming. I’m not a fighter I’m just a scientist and….I’m babbling.” Was there anything more embarrassing? Realizing you had yet to drop the wisk which as left a doughy mess across Bucky’s cheek you found yourself beginning to laugh. Maybe it wasn’t wise to laugh at the Winter Solider but he was just Bucky Barnes now or at least he was trying to be. “I’m so sorry, it’s just you have…” You motioned to his face before bursting into laughter once more and taking his hand and leading him towards the sink. You could feel tense up and hesitate as you took his hand but he gave in and followed you to the sink like a silent sentinel. Dropping his hand you reached for the roll of paper towel and dampened them before gently wiping at his face.

“I really wouldn’t have hit you with a wisk if I have known it was you.” Sincerity filled your voice since you knew the hard time Bucky was having adjusting and allowing people in.

Bucky refused to meet your eyes his soulful and sad glacier like hues were trained on the floor as you cleaned the cookie dough off his stubbed covered jaw and cheek. “I did say your name and tried to get your attention but I don’t think you could hear me.” Bucky’s voice was low and not much above a whisper so you only caught a few words, one of which being music. A silent ‘oh’ falls from your lips as it clicks into place. Tossing the paper towel you used you make quick strides over to your phone and turn the volume down so it’s just a dull hum in the background.

“I wasn’t trying to scare you, (y/n) I was just following the sweet scent.” Oh! The cookies! At his words you bound towards the oven and grab the oven mitt to take the cookie sheet from the oven. Opening the heated oven you remove the sheet and place it on the stone countertop to cool. “Cookies?” Bucky asked while eyeing the plate of cooled cookies and the sheet of fresh from the oven ones.

The rose tint to your cheeks seemed to increase, “Yeah. After training I wanted something sweet, my sweet tooth was acting up.” It was a lame excuse but you weren’t ready to admit your nervous habits especially to Bucky Barnes. Though many it would make him feel better about his own insecurities if you shared a few of your own? Dragging your lower lip between your teeth you decided to explain, “Sam and Steve mean well but I think they forget I’ve not a soldier, I’m a scientist. This is the one place I should feel safe and I just attacked you with a wisk! The only reason I even have the wisk is I can’t de-stress and baking the only thing that calms me down and…” Your voice trails off as you see Bucky eyeing the cookies again. “Do you want to share the cookies with me? I can’t eat them all.”

Bucky gave a sad and sheepish smile and in that moment reality hit you. It had probably been over seventy years since Bucky had homemade chocolate chip cookies and even that was iffy since he had grown up in the Great Depression. The much larger man grabbed one of stools which rested under the kitchen island and sat his large frame upon it his elbow or his right arm resting on the countertop as you grabbed two glasses and filled them with milk before setting one in front of him and taking a drink from the other before scrapping the cookies from the sheet and putting three of them on a plate for Bucky before finishing the cookie dough you were working on before he came in and dolloping those onto a sheet as well and sliding them into the oven.

The two of you sat in silence as you both ate the warm and gooey cookies and drinking your milk. “You don’t have to be afraid here or of me. (y/n), you’re right, you aren’t a soldier and I can try to talk Sam and Steve into backing off a little. They’re just worried about what’s going to happen if anyone realizes we’re here, Steve doesn’t want anyone caught in the crossfire. This is all because of me.” There was a miserable tone to Bucky’s voice as he ran his right hand through his hair his prosthetic arm missing since he refused to use it until he knew he was the one in control.

The sorrow in his voice broke your heart and before thinking any better you reached over and wrapped your arms around his waist in a hug your chin resting on his shoulder. “Bucky this is because of someone who was so filled with a misplaced need for revenge that he lashed out. You may have done a lot of bad things in your past but you weren’t in control of yourself and you shouldn’t be blamed or blame yourself for things you didn’t do.” For a man so strong the Super Soldier was still fragile in a lot of ways.

You were surprised that Bucky didn’t move and for a few minutes he didn’t say anything either. The two of you sat quietly your arms around Bucky as he accepted the support. “Thanks but it was because of my actions as the Winter Soldier that we’re here now. Maybe once the team finishes me arm you wouldn’t mind training with me.” Bucky’s voice was unsure as he made the offer, hesitant and afraid of rejection but you couldn’t rejected him, you liked him even if he didn’t like himself.

A small smile pulled at your lips as you slowly pulled away from him, “I’m sure that can arranged, maybe then I won’t bake so many cookies.” You couldn’t help but laugh as Bucky reached for another cookie his expression one of shock before it quickly disappeared replaced by the smallest of smiles. Maybe there was hope for the Super Soldier after all.

things you said // nurseydex

a/n: took a break from my swawesome santa (also need a beta for that hmu if ur interested) to churn out some cheesy nurseydex. it……has been a rough few weeks. hope this makes some ppl smile. 6k, those Corny But Classic™ ‘things you said’ prompts.

things you said that surprised me

Don’t get Nursey wrong, he loves a good Kegster – sweaty, loud, beer spilling down the front of his shirt, the Haus practically pulsing with a mix off Holster’s iPod – but he thinks there may or may not be something to say for just hanging out in the living room with the guys, smoking weed or watching TV or just talking, piled on top of each other across the couch and happily enclosed in the trademark Haus Bubble.

It’s almost better than the rush he gets from crowdsurfing or dancing on the kitchen table, he thinks, digging his toes further beneath Dex’s legs. Dex pauses just to throw a halfhearted glare in his direction before taking a swallow of beer. 

Something at the bottom of Nursey’s stomach flutters, immediately followed by a silent, internal berating. Get it together, you weirdo.

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anonymous asked:

Reactions to their lover saying "I love you" please?

Jeff: He’d freeze up, his jaw would drop– He would stare at them in total awe; The only people that had ever said those words to him were members of his own family. It would take him more than a moment to compose himself, but he would wrap his arms around them and utter out a shaky “I love you, too.”

BEN: Before he could begin to comprehend what was happening, he would be in tears; If his heart were still capable of beating it would be pounding in his chest. He would be silent as he let their words soak in, finding it hard to believe that that could be true; How could it be? He’d never had those words spoken to him before, and that meant that he didn’t deserve it, right? After getting over the initial shock of their words, he would smile; his face flushing as realisation set in and he took them into his arms. He would return the words tenfold, saying them at every opportunity.

Jane: “You’re kidding, right?” Did they honestly expect her to believe that? That they actually loved her? Ha! What a joke– Wait, they’re not kidding… Oh, shit.
She’d be taken aback, seeing the look on their face and seeing just how serious they were– but she would waste no time at all letting them know that her feelings were very much the same, grabbing them and pressing her lips to theirs. After pulling back, she would tell them that she adored them, and would love them always. As long as they don’t cheat, Janey don’t do that

Masky: He would tense up, not really knowing how to respond. He’s had people tell him that they loved him before, and he’s said it back, but his relationship with those people didn’t mean much to him, and definitely didn’t end on good terms. He didn’t want this to be like that. He felt different this time– this person actually meant something to him. So after running it through his mind, and remembering a few wise words from his friend Jack, he’d say it back, determined to make this time different– determined to make it better.

Hoody: He had never had someone to tell him that they loved him before. He would smile shyly, his face flushing under his mask. What should he do? Say it back? Kiss them? He decided to do what felt right to him. He pulled his hood down and took his mask off, pressing his lips to theirs in a soft, sweet kiss. It didn’t last long, but it didn’t have to.

EJ: A wide, cheeky, sharp-toothed grin would form under his mask and he would waste no time in saying it right back– He wanted his feelings to be crystal clear. He would then take his mask off and wrap his arms around them, nuzzling his head into the crook of their neck, wanting to be as close to his lover as he could get. He might look a little scary, but he really is sweet when he wants to be.

Say You Won't Let Go (Inspired) - SIMON

Simon X Reader

Description: Say You Won’t Let Go by James Arthur inspired

Requested?: yes by anon : Hello would you be able to write an imagine with Simon based on say you won’t let go- James Arthur thank you

Notes: uh, it’s VERY based on the song. A lot of the lines are actually in the song so credit to him. I guess there’s a warning about like body positivity but not really. It’s also very dialogue heavy, which I normally try to avoid.

“Y/N! Stop! Come here!” Simon said waving you over to his chair, obviously annoyed. You had been stood in front of your mirror for at least 5 minutes in leggings and a t-shirt, looking at your body, mentally critiquing yourself in every way. Small, warm tears started to roll down your cheeks after a while so you tried to cover them and wipe them away. Obviously not well enough. Simon had been sat in his chair editing but once he noticed you patting your tears away, was that he had been also looking at your body.

“What?” You said, walking over to him and sitting in his spare gaming chair.

“What’s wrong, gorgeous?” He said continuing to edit.

“That’s just it, I’m not gorgeous. I look Freya, Emily, Katie, Kay and Sarah and see slim and pretty girls. And I’m just not, I’m small but not a good small. The kind of small where all my weight goes to my stomach. Or my thighs. Not to my boobs or bum. I haven’t got the gorgeous looks of them, I haven’t got the skinny legs, I haven’t got the flat stomach, I don-” you said before being interrupted by Simons hands on your outer thigh.

“Y/N! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! You’re so beautiful. I don’t think you understand how much I love you and your body. I don’t find those girls attractive. I also haven’t been in love with them for 7 years!” He said, taking his hand away from your thigh and making strong gestures, his cheeks getting slightly flushed and his eyes set firmly on you. Tears threatens to spill over your eyes but you looked away quickly and blinked until they went away.

“Y/N, do you remember when we came back to mine after your first party?” He chuckled, also triggering a slight giggle from you.

“And I took you home, quietly taking you up stairs, making sure not to wake your parents. Then, when you were throwing up, I held your hair back and rubbed your back until you felt better. Do you remember that?” He asked, you nodded and looked back at him with a small smile, knowing what was to come next.

“And then you asked if I wanted to stay? And I told you that you needed rest. But really, I would have loved to have stayed.”

“Why didn’t you?” You asked.

“Because, Y/N, I loved you too much. Too much to stay but not sleep next to you. Or kiss you in the morning when we woke up with hangovers.” He said, looking rather embarrassed. You quickly got up and sat on his lap, legs draped over the arm of his chair and one hand combing through his hair.

“You didn’t know that though. Not then. Because I tried so hard not to show it. Not to show that I needed you. Not to show my sadness when you got another boyfriend.” He said, avoiding your gaze, starting to edit again.

“Simon, stop now, you’re making me embarrassed!” You said outing your hands to your cheeks to hide the redness.

“No, I have to do this! Because otherwise you’ll never believe you’re beautiful.” He said talking your hands and kissing you briefly before continuing.

“Y/N, if you want to, I would love to stay with you until we’re grey and old. But you need to promise me that you won’t let go. You won’t leave me because you don’t think you’re good enough. Because you are good enough. You’re more than good enough. You’re perfect, more than I could ever ask for!” He said, making tears brim, once again, in your eyes.

“Of course I will never leave. Not ever.” You said kissing his nose and then his forehead.

“Okay, in that case, I’ll make you breakfast in bed. I’ll bring you coffee and then kiss your head. Then I’ll take the kids to school. And thank my lucky stars for the day I met you.” He said, pulling you into his chest.

“Simon, please!” you said as hot tears rolled down your cheeks and splattered on his shirt.

“No, Y/N. You need to hear this. You look so beautiful, as ever. No other girl has a ever made me feel like this. I’m so in love with you and I hope you realise that now. Beautiful, your love is more than worth its weight in gold.” He said kissing your nose and wiping away your tears.

“We have come so far, darling. You’re always here for me when I need you most. And I want to live with you forever and ever.” He said, holding you tighter in his arms.

“And, one day, we will get married. And I will love you until my lungs give out!” He said, his own tears landing heavily on the top of your head.

“You made and still do make me feel so wanted and enough” he said, his voice hitching slightly with a sharp intake of breath from trying to hide his tears for so long.

“Simon, I love you so much, with my whole heart! So, of course, I will never let you go. Thank you so much, honey.” You said grabbing his face with both hands and pulling him into a deep kiss. He kissed you back, gently, letting his hands fall to your waist and holding you there firmly.

“I love you most, Y/N” he said pulling away and smiling.

A/N: let me know what you think. I think is slightly different to normal???????

annoyed or jealous?

author’s note: jealous neymar, as requested. feel free to tell me what you think or check out my masterlist!

warning: smut

“Who are you texting?”

Neymar’s curious because she’s spent the past hour almost glued to her phone, laughing every time it dings with a new text notification. She hadn’t even paid much attention to the show on TV. She looks practically giddy as she responds to each message, but Neymar had just assumed it was one of her friends – like Anto or Dani, since she’s close with them.

“Leo,” she answers, her fingers typing furiously fast as she replies to another text.

Leo?” Neymar asks in surprise. “Messi?”

“Mm hm,” she hums, nodding her head but not looking up from her phone screen. “He’s so funny sometimes, you know.”

Neymar huffs out a frustrated sigh and crosses his arms over his chest, scooting down to the other end of the couch. This isn’t the first time this had happened – she’s always gotten along with Leo because they clicked the moment Neymar introduced them. And while Neymar is glad that she gets along with his friends so well, he’s also annoyed – well, no, not annoyed.

He’s jealous.

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Imagine Sam realizing, after two years of dating, you hate the nickname he’s given you.

Sam x Reader

This is one of my all time favorite requests. Hilarious. 


There it is again. That awful nickname.

Sam hugs you from behind, wrapping his huge, warm body around yours. You don’t think he can see you when you scowl, but you’re wrong.

“What was that?” he pulls back, placing his hands on your shoulders and turning you toward him.

“What?” You ask, trying to remain nonchalant but end up sounding defensive. “What do you mean?”

“That face?” Sam furrows his brow and throws you a questioning look. He’s not buying your act.

“What? Nothing, I just…my underwear are pinching me…”  it’s possibly the worst excuse you could have used. It’s not completely untrue, but mildly embarrassing. 

Sam doesn’t skip a beat.

“Do I smell?” He’s overcome with a look of concern and sniffs at his underarm, then cups his hand to smell his own breath.

“You don’t smell Sam, stop.” You shake your head and reach up to place your palms on his chest. “You’re fine, you smell great. You always smell great”

You don’t mean to sound frustrated, but you do.

“Tell me.” Sam states matter of factly.

“God, I don’t want to have this conversation” You mutter, half to yourself and half to Sam. You sigh and look down at your hands. “It’s not a big deal. It’s 95% an overreaction on my part…”

“What?” Sam takes your hands into his, looking down into your eyes and it makes it all worse. He thinks you have a serious revelation, something life changing that you’re holding back.

“Sam stop,” you take a step back and then a breath. “I didn’t want to have to tell you this because I don’t want to hurt your feelings. I honestly thought that eventually you’d figure it out. You’re sweet and thoughtful and sensitive and always thinking about my feelings…but I hate it when you call me that.”

“What?” he tilts his head to the side, genuinely perplexed. Deep down your handsome, brave Sam is just as clueless as every other man, when it comes to women.  

“Porkchop!” You blurt out, more aggressively than intended. “You call me porkchop, Sam. No woman wants to be called porkchop.”

He clenches his mouth and looks at you strangely. “But…But I call you that because our first date, the waiter…you said you thought it was cute.”

“I thought everything you did on our first date was cute. You could have done just about anything and I would have told you I liked it….because I liked you so much. But now…I hate it.”

“You do?”

“I really, really do.”

“How long have you felt this way?” he huffs, looking at you incredulously.

“Always, Sam.”

“Wow. Well…I guess I’m not as observant as I thought.” His cheeks are flushed now, embarrassment setting it. He knows.

“Hey,” you wiggle into him, running a hand over the side of his face and through his hair. “You’ll just have to give me a new nickname, huh?”

He grins sheepishly and grabs your side, tickling you and making you twist in his arms. “It was that bad?”

“The worst,” you smile as he kisses you softly, “Lucky for you, I’ll let you make it up to me.”

. Obsessive Impulsive . 16

Full Summary: “‘I’ve been trying to find you alone for weeks, but you’ve been avoiding me.’  He clicked his tongue, as if scolding her.  'I tried approaching, but you always had someone with you to give me nasty words and looks.  They turned you against me, Miss Levy.’"

Pairings: Gajeel x Levy

Warnings: I strode for a darker fic again.  This is not for sensitive readers.  Violence, stalking, etc.  

Author’s Note: This is a very, very twisted gift for Bubbles, who has not been allowed to so much as read a single chapter.  This will update every other day.

Levy flinched as she moved too quickly, her shoulder throbbing with agony. It was on fire, and when she moved the bandage aside, she saw that it looked anything but ready to heal. She thought about using it to get Elroy to maybe let her go, but didn’t dare try just yet. If he lost his temper…

Well. She was kind of trapped in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with no way of escaping and no one to hear her screams.

She took a deep breath and rolled onto her side. Elroy had locked her into the room again for whatever reason, and her shoulder ached too much to attempt an escape for the time being. There was no way out here in this room. She’d hunted up and down the walls for a good portion of the night before.

Levy carefully sat up, propping herself up with a grimace. She listened.


Elroy wasn’t there.

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anonymous asked:

Not quite Hakizana, but at some point Izana has to give Zen some advise right? What if during this moment of advising Izana accidently slips up and says something about Haki that makes Zen go like... wait... so you guys know what romance is? And Izana is just like, insulted.

(Part of a series. Part One. Part Two. Part Three. Part Four. Part Five. Part Six. Part Seven.)

Despite the skepticism his friendship with Zakura had drawn over the years – after all, a prince’s confidant should be another well-bred son, not some jumped-up mercenary – Izana could not help but admit there were…useful things only a common man could supply him.

For one, the phrase shit rolls down hill. Nothing could more perfectly match his mood when his brother comes to call.

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Summary: You’re mad at Michael and say stuff about him in front of the boys. He takes you home and punishes you.

Warning: light smut, spanking, cursing

Ch: michaelxreader

Michael’s eyes crossed you, his lips set in a long purse, due to the anger icing his veins. He found it ridiculous how you sat and ridiculed him in front of the people he admired most, his family.

“I think It’s time we leave.” His voice flat, and as cold as the arctic. You don’t make eye contact showing no respect at your boyfriend. 

“I haven’t finished my drink.” You argue, and continue your conversation with Arthur, leaving Michael to sulk. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore, picking you up, throwing you over his shoulder. The boys laughed, only making Michael even more mad, and saying a “Fuck off” as he left the room.

“Michael put me the fuck down.” You argue as the cold air hit your numbing face. Finally Michael placed you on the coal ground outside of the Garrison. “What the fuck is your problem? Acting like a fucking caveman -”

Michael’s hand on your face cut you off, his fingers digging into your skin. “I told you that fucking sassy mouth of yours was going to get you in trouble.”

“Don’t be -” Michael works hit you like vine, “Don’t you fucking say one more word to me. The goddamn disrespect has to stop. Now keep your mouth shut.” Michael’s chest breath, clouds of white smoke following his breath. His face was flushed red, set in a hard, angry expression.

“We’re going home.” You didn’t dare challenge him, Michael was scary like this. Michael at least smoked three times before you’ve reached the flat, you had to bite your tongue at the smell, and hatred of them.

“I will be up in five minutes, I want you down to your skivvies.” You wanted to question him, but didn’t as he looked upset even after his cigs. You did as he said, stripping down, and waiting for him on the bed.

Michael was soon up, he still continued to some what ignore you as he took off his jacket, laying it on the long of the chair, next the pins at the end of his sleeve’s were placed on the dresser, he then began rolling his white dress shirt up his arm, lastly he ran his hand through the chocolate locks, messing the neatly done hair. He sat on the chair of your vanity, “Come here.”

You obliged, as he guided you with his hand, sitting you on his lap. His hard cock, straning against your thin underwear. His nose touched yours, his cold gaze never leaving your eyes. Your heart felt as if It was going to thump out of your chest. “You took it too fucking far sweets. You will not disrespect me in from of anyone again… eah?”

“Michael I -” He grunted, cutting you off, as his hand rested against your hip guiding you against his hard member. “You will not talk unless I fucking tell you. Do you understand?

“Yes.” His hand fell to your arse with a rough squeeze. As you continued to move your hips against him, feeling him twitch against your soft flesh. His lips fell to your neck leaving a trail of kissing, to your jaw, and around your lips, but never touching them. “I will not kiss you for a week now, as those lips are so bloody dirty, they don’t deserve any.”

What a weird correction you thought. Michael was quick to pick you up, and lay your stomach across his thighs. “Your trail will be the amount of times I feel like giving ya.” You couldn’t help the wetness grew between your legs, as his hands rubbed the soft flesh of your ass. 

Without any warning a hard slap came in contact, making you whine out in pleasure. Michael rubs the now red spot softly, before continuing his assault on your arse. Slap after slap left you stinging as you held onto his left arm for support. “I’m sorry Michael!” You exclaim after what seemed to be the thousand slap. 

“Wish I could believe ya sweet pea, but your ass looks so good red.” You squealed as the next slap hit you, “I have to admit, you’re behaving, taking it like you fucking should.” 

You only moaned in response, his two fingers rubbing against the fabric of your covered pussy. “Now I want to hear you say it.” He paused, “You’ll never disrespect me in company again.”

Michael seemed not to like the pause you’ve taken as his hand met with you pulsing flesh again. “I will never disrespect you in company again!” You squeal, earning a rub on your sore spot.

Michael sat you up on his lap. “So pretty.” He mumbles, rubbing the little tears off from under you eyes. His lips meeting your forehead softly, “I think it’s time ya really make it you from me.”

Request are open!!


“Hey Clark!” you called, leaning over the balcony with your phone in your hand as you caught sight of the man you were calling for. Though you were momentarily caught off guard as you watched him chopping wood, his bulging muscles straining against the tight fabric of his white shirt.

“What?” he asked, oblivious to your staring as he turned and looked up at you form the lawn.

“Why do people think today is our wedding anniversary?” you asked, holding up your phone as it went off again with another text of congratulations just like the ones you had been receiving all morning. “We aren’t even married, right?”

“I don’t know sweet, maybe they got someone else’ day mixed up with us?” he suggested as you looked down to glance over the message.

I wish my husband was as protective over me as Clark is with you. Such a lovely couple you make!“ you read, laughing slightly as you looked down at Clark. Clark smiled up at you, his cheeks slightly flushing as he set down the axe and made his way to the steps. “Somehow it seems that because you are such a possessive animal, everyone has come to the conclusion that I really am yours.”

“You already are mine, did you not get the memo?” Clark laughed as he jogged up the steps until he could grab your waist and pull you against him. You let out a giggle as you rested your hands on his broad shoulders.

“Nope, must have forgotten. Go shower and get changed before I annul the whole thing.”

Gif Credit: gif does not belong to this blog and we make no claim to it.

i wanna download Flush(animate) but mom set parental control.

i can’t use it…(i’m trying animate with Medibang Paint, it’s lil hard ‘cuz it isn’t a software for animating)

Hex for 2017

You know that old saying, “desperate times, desperate measures” ? Well, it’s pretty accurate in this instance. I like to think of myself as a pretty positive person, as I believe any energy you put out into the universe will eventually come back to you. But in this instance, I’m willing to risk it. 

Let me be perfectly clear: This is not a curse. 

What’s the difference? 

Curses are very powerful, can last for very long periods of time, and can essentially destroy a person. While I don’t condemn witches who do curse, and think there are times when it may be necessary, I don’t feel ready to mess with that kind of power yet.  

Hexes, on the other hand, are like a deterrent. The person or group you are hexing will feel like they’re moving through glue, like none of their actions have a large effect. It’s annoying and an inconvenience, but won’t completely ruin their life. For me, hexes are the equivalent of “do no harm, but take no shit”. And if you’re hesitant about working with negative energy, a minor hex might be a good place to start. 

You will need: 

  • Paper and pencil 
  • Clear quartz- or other energy amplifier
  • Loud music- to add negative intent
  • Protective sigil, pendant, charm, etc
  • Scissors or a knife (optional)- to cast the hex
  • Matches or a lighter (optional)- to cast the hex

First, begin by casting a circle of protection around yourself. You could do this by wearing a protective sigil or pendant, sprinkling salt water around yourself, or other means of protection. You want to be crystal clear on where the negative energy is going- and it’s not towards you. Do not skip this step. 

Next, play your loud music to add negative emotions, energy, and intent to the space. Think about people you want to deter or slow down in 2017. Picture every action of theirs being thwarted or delayed for as long as possible, and that their lives are peppered with minor annoyances. Be specific- you don’t want to hex anyone you don’t intend to.

Examples could be:

  • The Trump administration
  • The KKK/other hate groups
  • Anti-LGBT groups
  • People who support “religious freedom” but only if that religion is Christianity
  • Sexist, racist, homophobic, transphobic, or ableist individuals/groups

Write their names down on the piece of paper; again, be very clear and write neatly. At the bottom, draw disruptive sigils or write a binding message. The one I used was this: 

“In the coming year, let every pebble be a boulder and every molehill be a mountain. May they feel stuck, endlessly pushing for very little gain. May their words fall on silent ears, and their hateful speech lose its power. And it harm none, so mote it be.”

Afterwards, destroy the paper. Shred it, tear it into pieces, flush it, set it on fire (safely!) whatever you would like to ruin the paper. With that, the hex is cast. 

Finally- cleanse yourself and your materials. Clean and charge any crystals or other tools you used, including yourself. You don’t want any wayward negative energy to stick to you. Don’t skip this step either. You don’t want to use your favorite quartz for another spell and have everything go wrong. 

Hope this gives you some ideas. Remember, as witches, we are never powerless. We can use our powers to increase the good in the world, and knock those who wish to do bad down a peg. 

Happy New Year and many blessings!- Kate

rebeccaravenroth  asked:

Team Zen Crew are drinking together one night and somehow we get to the point that Kiki gives Shirayuki a kiss? Maybe it was a dare or a joke she took as a challenge, but the boys drunken reactions are priceless. Mitsuhide is both horrified and facinatated. Zen is just ???¿¿¿??? And Obi is just EXCITED. 

(A Seven Suitors prequel, set just after the council meeting where Zen signs the agreement with Viande)

There is, of course, the debate when they begin.

Four players, no partners – it’s cheating, what you and Kiki do, Master says bitterly – and Miss Kiki abhors matching games. Obi pitches rummy first, which Sir knocks down quite firmly when he points out the cramped condition of the table; Miss Kiki suggests Faro, to which everyone unanimously balks, save if she agrees to sit out as the dealer (she does not).

Master suggests Reversin. Obi grins.

A plan forms.

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Out of My League - Part 1

Summary: Phil Lester is the perfect fifth-year. Smart, considerate, kind, not to mention beautiful. Dan, a first-year, knows all of this. But, of course, he can only admire him from afar, because he’s so out of his league. Hogwarts!Phan.

Genre: Hogwarts AU, Age Difference, Fluff, Comedy

Warnings: none

A/N: Hey everybody! So recently @hogwarts-headcanons gave me the idea to write a short Phan Hogwarts story about little first-year Dan having a major crush on a certain fifth-year. This is part 1 of the short story, it will not be a long, ongoing series like my other Phan Hogwarts AU! I’m not quite sure how many parts this will be yet, so bear with me! I hope you like it, and be sure to tell me what you think!

Read Part Two >>

He was running late. Again.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Dan muttered to himself as he grabbed his bag and flew towards the Slytherin common room’s door. Why hadn’t anyone woken him up? He was always running late, not only because of his lack of alarm system, but also because Hogwarts was huge. It was pretty easy to get lost. Dan had watched the older students jump along with ease on the moving staircases, and wondered if he’d be like that one day, confidently striding around Hogwarts like he owned the place.

Yanking open the common room door, he sprinted down the hall, away from the cold dungeons. Though the common room and dormitories were warm, the rest of the dungeons were pretty cold from being located beneath the lake.

Reaching the winding staircases, he hesitated for a moment. Which way was the History of Magic room? He was pretty sure it was near Gryffindor Tower. He glanced at the other students walking past, but felt too shy to say anything or ask for help. He was a first-year barely into his first month at school, after all. Upperclassmen probably didn’t want to be bothered by first-years.

So he resolutely started marching up a set of stairs, hoping he was going the right way. The corridors started to look pretty familiar, and his confidence rose as he made his way to another staircase.

However, this particular staircase liked to trip people up. The prefects had warned them about this staircase, but in his haste, he didn’t think about the stair’s tricks.

Before he knew it, a hole opened in one of the steps and it shifted so his foot caught, and Dan could literally feel himself suspended in the air for a gut-wrenching moment before he fell.

He hit the stairs hard, and continued to roll down, hitting his head, elbows, and knees. He was a mess of tangled limbs with his parchment and books scattered everywhere when he finally stopped at the base.

Dan assessed the damage. His whole body was throbbing, but a spot on his head hurt particularly badly and he knew his left knee was bleeding. He was going to have plenty of bruises tomorrow.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” a concerned voice spoke from above Dan, and the person knelt and touched Dan’s shoulder gingerly. “I saw you fall, do you need help?”

Dan bit back a sarcastic comment and shifted his aching body to look at his helper.

Even though he’d just regained his breath, all of it was knocked out of him again.

An older boy was kneeling in front of him, a worried frown creasing his face. He had messy black hair swept to the side, porcelain skin, and the most stunning pair of blue eyes he’d ever seen. He was tall and lanky, with a loose Hufflepuff tie around his neck.

Dan tried to speak. “I, um…”

“Here, let me get that,” the beautiful boy urged, taking Dan’s half empty bag and collecting Dan’s things. “You’re all trussed up! Do you need help to the infirmary?”

“Well, I, um, I-I don’t know where that is,” Dan admitted in a small voice.

“That’s okay, I’ll take you. Are you a first year? Ooh, your knee is bleeding! Nasty staircase, isn’t it? There’s another route you can take so you don’t have to battle with this one. I’ll show it to you sometime. C’mon, lean on my shoulder.”

The boy threw Dan’s bag over his shoulder like it weighed nothing and wrapped his arm under Dan’s. “Here, lean on me. Your left knee looks rough. We’ll go to Madame Pomfrey. She’ll be able to help.”

Dan couldn’t believe this was happening. He started to hyperventilate as this really, really cute guy let him lean on his shoulder. He stood, wincing at his knee and buckling as everything went dizzy. He put a hand to his temple.

“Does your head hurt?” the boy asked, concerned.

“A bit,” Dan mumbled.

“I’m sorry. I would carry you there, but I have two bags.” The boy sounded sincerely regretful, and Dan felt a blush creeping into his cheeks.

“Th-that’s okay,” Dan croaked.

A bit wobbly, but otherwise okay, Dan used this boy’s support as he made his way to a corridor he’d never seen before. The boy led him to a large pair of double doors and pushed one open with a grunt. “Here we are. C’mon, let’s get you to a bed.”

A pleasant-looking lady strode up to the pair as the boy helped Dan sit on one of the neatly-made beds. Some beds had curtains drawn around them, obviously hiding patients.

“Dear me, what on earth happened?” the lady asked in a brisk voice, and Dan assumed it was Madame Pomfrey.

“The evil stairs on the south side got him,” Dan’s savior told her. “He fell down, and I think he hit his head.”

“I see.” Madame Pomfrey studied him, and the boy gently let Dan go on the bed. Immediately Dan was keenly aware of the lack of warmth, and he drew into himself.

“What’s your name?” she asked, looking him over.

“Dan,” he answered the nurse quietly. “First-year.”

“Ah, well, don’t you worry. Plenty of first-years have found themselves here because of those staircases. Some can be pretty nasty. You’ll pick up on them quickly, though.” She bustled around, getting her wand. “The flesh wounds I can fix pretty easily, but your head trauma might need a potion to soothe it.”

Dan just nodded, only half paying attention as he saw the beautiful Hufflepuff boy shuffle slightly, seeming to move away from the bed. Dan didn’t want him to go.

Madame Pomfrey attended to his wounds, and as she worked, the Hufflepuff boy spoke to Dan cheerfully, asking him how he liked Hogwarts, his classes, his dormitory, his House, etc. Dan knew he was distracting him on purpose, and he was grateful.

It was difficult for Dan to keep answering, because he kept getting flustered and red in the face every time the boy smiled or made eye contact. Dan’s eyes darted around. Was it fair for someone to be so pretty?

Madame Pomfrey finished her work, and when Dan looked down, his bruises and scrapes were gone. Only a painful throbbing in his head remained as a reminder of his mishap.

“Here, drink this,” Madame Pomfrey instructed, handing him a cup of a brown, gross-looking potion. “It’ll soothe the headache.”

The older boy laughed at Dan’s expression. “Go on, Dan, it’s not so bad if you drink it quickly.”

Dan hid his face with the cup as he drank so the boy wouldn’t see his flush.

“You’re set to go when you feel up to walking,” Madame Pomfrey told him, tidying up. “Be more careful on those stairs, now!”

As she left to attend to another patient, the older boy smiled at Dan. “I need to get going. Do you want me to help you back to your common room?”

“Yes,” Dan agreed, almost too quickly. He hadn’t plucked up the courage to ask for the boy’s name yet, and he didn’t want him to go.

The boy smiled and walked over, studying him. “Do you need help?”

“U-Um, no, I think I can walk,” Dan stuttered.

The older boy nodded, then slung Dan’s bag over his shoulder again. “I’ll carry this, so don’t worry. C’mon, let’s go.”

Dan silently followed the gorgeous boy out of the infirmary and down a few halls. The boy kept chatting about this and that, about the Quidditch match coming up, but all Dan could focus on was how the boy’s arm flexed as he shifted the bags and the way his tongue stuck out of his mouth a little when he laughed.

He felt unhappy when Slytherin’s common room entrance came into view. “H-How’d you know where it was?” Dan asked timidly.

“I’m a fifth-year. I know my way about the castle by now,” the boy winked, and Dan actually felt himself swoon a little.

The fifth-year handed Dan his bag, and gave a soft smile once more. “I’ll see you around, Dan! Be careful around staircases, okay?”

All Dan could do was nod dumbly as the beautiful boy walked away.

When he disappeared from sight, Dan put his head against the stone wall, groaning. “I didn’t ask his name! Ugh, he was so…”

“What’re you doing, Dan?” a voice startled him from his beratement and Dan yelped, pulling away from the wall.

His friend Louise, from Hufflepuff, was standing there, looking at him curiously. “I came by to drop off the ink I borrowed. Am I interrupting something?”

Dan rolled his eyes at her teasing tone. “No.”

“So, who’s name didn’t you get?”

He spluttered, going red. “Nothing! No one’s! Don’t worry about it!”

Louise smirked. “You’re all red.”

“I am not!”

Louise laughed at him, and Dan suddenly realized she was in Hufflepuff, and a third-year. Maybe she knew the beautiful tall boy.

“Hey, Louise,” he started, hesitantly, “do you know anyone in fifth year in Hufflepuff?”

She stopped laughing and gave him a curious look. “Yeah, I know some people. Why?”

Dan swallowed. “Do you…maybe…happen to know a boy with black hair?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that, Dan.”

“He’s–he’s got these gorgeous blue eyes,” Dan continued. “And perfect pale skin, like he’s carved from marble, I swear. And a lopsided smile that seems really warm, and he’s tall, Louise, God, he’s tall and lanky, with a lovely laugh and his hair is all naturally messy, but it looks so good on him…”

He didn’t realize he’d been rambling until Louise let out a series of giggles. He turned even redder. “Don’t laugh! You said to be specific!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t realize you were in love with the guy,” Louise chortled, and her giggles eventually subsided amidst Dan’s indignant spluttering. “Black hair, tall, blue eyes, really pale, nice guy? Sounds like Phil.”


“Phil Lester. Fifth-year. Super friendly and easygoing guy, everyone likes him. I don’t know him too well myself, but I’ve seen him around.”

Phil. Dan let this name sink into his mind. It suits him.

“So why are you so curious about the magnificent Phil Lester?” Louise probed.

“Um, he helped me out today…” Dan trailed off, his face getting redder at Louise’s raised eyebrows. “He seemed…really great.”

Louise full-on laughed. “Sounds like someone has a crush!”

“Hey! Don’t say that!” Dan’s entire face was a tomato, and he glanced around to make sure no one had heard. “Not so loudly!”

“Can’t believe it’s a fifth-year, though,” Louise commented, looking thoughtful.

“Well, why not?” Dan defended himself. “He was really nice and considerate, not to mention beautiful!”

Louise looked gleeful. “I knew it!”

Dan smacked his forehead, groaning. “Dammit.”

“It’s alright, Dan,” Louise giggled. “I can’t blame you. Plenty of people like him, it’s just his personality. He’s really sweet.”

Dan lowered his head. “He’s so out of my league. But he’s really amazing, Louise.”

“Don’t give up hope just yet, Dan!” she replied cheerfully. “He’s in my House, after all! I can introduce you and I know you’ll hit it off. It’s impossible to not get along with Phil.”

Dan looked at her with hopeful eyes. “Will you?”

“Of course!”

Dan brightened. “Well, okay, but he’s still so out of my league.”

“I beg to differ. I think he’s just your type.”

Taehyung Scenario: You’ve Fallen For Me.

Request:  So I saw requests are open and I want to request a V scenario. I want it to be that him and OC are in Highschool and he’s like the bad boy at school (like BTS as his gang or whatever) and OC is just like a normal girl but him and her like each other so he like bullies her kind of (not like super mean stuff) and then I don’t know what else. Have them together by the end of it though. I guess it would be fluff. Anyway, thank you and I love your writing

Genre: Fluff / Romance.

There they came, the school’s top seven troublemakers and the delirium of the female students. Have it be that they were entering together or have it be that they arrived in small groups, the BTS gang, how they liked to be called, loved to make an entrance. Today they came in the full package and you couldn’t help but stare at them too.

The eldest came first, your eyes going to each of them for just a few seconds, Jin with his pretty clothes and polite smile, Yoongi’s laid back and smooth demeanor, the leader Namjoon talking with Hoseok who was throwing smiles and winks to the girls. Your friend elbowed you and not so slyly pointed at Jin, she thought he was the most handsome and had a major crush on him. 

Behind them came the the younger part of the group and in your opinion the worst. Jungkook was the maknae and the one you honestly thought was the most handsome, his hair was pitch black and he had really nice eyebrows; by his side came Jimin who was laughing at something the maknae was showing him on his cellphone, he was always laughing and with his innocent looks no one would think he was capable of causing trouble but you knew better; and of course at the other side of the maknae you saw him, the seventh member of the gang and the one your eyes searched and got attached to, Kim Taehyung, the most annoying of the bunch, the louder, the most notorious, the most troublesome, the most… everything. 

You rolled your eyes and groaned a bit louder than expected, but with the murmurs and hallway talking nobody noticed. Nobody except for him of course.

Taehyung spotted you instantly and a smirk grew on his face. He walked away from his gang and approached you, his walk said things about him you already knew. He was popular and confident, he was hot and he was wanted, he was trouble.
-Y/N- he said your name as a greeting, the smirk getting bigger until he chuckled, like he knew a funny secret and you obviously didn’t. -I see you were staring at me-

You turned your head the other way and sneered. -Hello, Could you go back to your friends? People are starting to stare-

He bended until his eyes were leveled with yours, a reminding that he was much taller than you. -I’ll be watching you- he whispered and flicked your forehead. He turned around and went to his friends again, carefree and light, like nothing had happened. You didn’t know if you heart was beating faster due to the annoyance or to his delicious smelling perfume.

Your friend grabbed your arm and shook you. -What was that?-

Your eyes went to them again, this time less directly so to not gain more attention, your friend kept tugging at you. -I don’t know- but that wasn’t entirely true.

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