i hope it's not too distracting

kumabear15  asked:

Hello kou-senpai! (I hope its okay that i call you that!) do you have any forgotten ocs? Like ocs you forget to draw mostly? I hope you have a lovely day btw!

actually I did have one such OC -Kyo

Base from my normal oc(Mana Koumi(profile)),this OC is made only to distract myself。(My senpai thought I was annoying,maybe…so I made a pair of similar oc for me and him to distract my useless “love”-There is too much)
but because I have not drawn me ship with my senpai for a long time(I still pretend that I still feel for my senpai) so this oc has been standing

anonymous asked:

This one is funny but gross request based on personal experience lol.Keith is having a lactose intolerance moment (which involves gas and being on the toilet with which I am unfortunately too familiar) and Lance texts him offering his "support" but being Lance he can't help teasing at the same time as being cute and mushy.And Keith just groans in embarrassment but texts Lance back because he's making him laugh and it's at least a distraction from the pain (which is just what Lance was going for)

(i really hope this is what u were going for, anon… lmao i’m sorry if i ruined it)

sometimes i forget that lance legitimately ripped a monstrous fart in the cockpit of his lion within like 10 minutes of meeting up with the other paladins for the first time…….. but then i remember and laugh for a really long time

8 Fights You’ve Had - Jim Kirk

Summary: couples fight, some couples make up.

Warnings: language

A/N: anyway the great animal cracker debate of the twenty-third century is my favorite part of this


You stared at the door and waited the polite amount of time.

Well, the polite amount of time for you— which was just the thirty seconds after you’d finished knocking.

You entered the code you’d memorized months ago against the control pad you used to struggle with when your friendship with Jim was new, and the door slid open easily. With a sigh and a clearing of your throat, you entered the dim quarters and replicated a cup of coffee for yourself— after all, his replicator was the best one on board.

Piping pastel yellow mug in hand, you took long steps to his bed. “Wakey, wakey, sunshine! Lights at fifty-percent,” you added, laughing when Jim groaned loudly and pulled his plain white comforter over his head as the lighting increased.

You pulled gently on the few strands of blonde hair that managed to peek out from above the edge of the comforter. You then tugged on the covers a bit, exposing everything above his nose. Your fingers moved from his hair to his high cheekbone, sweeping your thumb across his skin only to move a little lower to pinch the fleshier part of his cheek with force.

He hissed loudly and slapped your hand away, sitting up immediately. He placed his hand against the flushed skin and grimaced at you. “What the hell? It’s a day off!”

You hummed, holding out the cup of coffee to him. “Your voice is sexy when you’ve just woken up. All that rasp, that depth.”

“My voice is always sexy,” he mumbled, taking the cup and smirking as he brought the mug to his lips. Once he swallowed and gave the coffee back, he sighed to lean back against his headboard. “You better have a good reason for waking me up on a day I planned to sleep through.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and pushed up the sleeves of the black t-shirt you wore. “I do. So Chekov and I spent the whole night researching this television series from, like, the early twenty-first century. It’s about these residents at this one hospital, and they all tend to sleep with one another more than work on patients, and it’s so absurd,” you laughed, rolling your eyes to yourself. “Pash and I spent the whole night watching episode, after episode, after episode and it’s strangely addictive and I’m weirdly invested—”

“Is that my shirt?”

You hummed questioningly, looking down at yourself. “Oh. Yeah, it is. Anyway, the doctors—”

“Do you not own any clothes of your own?” His eyebrows were together, his head tilted, his lips fallen into a frown. His volume had increased by the time he stated with a scoff of frustration, “You don’t even ask anymore.”

Your own eyebrows came together. “Jim, —”

“It’s not like we’re having sex, or dating, or something,” he continued, shaking his head. “You should ask.”

“Okay,” you said, your eyebrows now raised. “I’ll ask from now on. I’m sorry, I didn’t think— I won’t do it anymore.”

He sighed loudly. “No, I want you to wear my shirts,” he told you, his volume still just as high.

“Is your goal to confuse me?”

He sighed again. “I want you to wear them after you sleep here, after you spend the night with me. I want you to wake me up as annoyingly as you do and I want it every single morning. I want all of that. Do you—” he sighed heavily. “Starlight, do you not see it?”

“Well, don’t yell at me about it,” you replied softly. You waited a few seconds before setting the coffee down onto the floor and kneeling on the bed.

You shifted so you were knelt before him, moving your knees to be on either side of him so you could straddle his lap. You pressed your lips to his briefly tasting coffee on him and sighing at the feeling of finally in your veins.

As you broke the kiss and he leaned forward to follow your lips, you offered him a small smile and placed a hand on his chest, drumming your fingers against the thin t-shirt he wore. “Ask me out nicely, don’t fight with me about it, and I might say yes.”

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anonymous asked:

prompt request: a blizzard keeps jack and bitty trapped inside their apartment without any power. it's just them, blankets, and a fireplace. Maybe an old radio too. (alternately titled: i got my love to keep me warm)

[it’s snowing today, so this seemed appropriate! i hope you enjoy! <3]

It’s snowing. It’s been snowing since…well, Bitty honestly can’t remember when it started. Sometime the previous evening, he thinks, after he and Jack had made it back to Jack’s apartment after the game, the prospect of an off weekend spent together bright and shining before them.

Honestly, Bitty’s hard pressed to remember what the weather was like on the drive home, distracted as he was by the way the streetlights played off of Jack’s cheekbones, the way his eyes lit up as he looked at Bitty across the seat. The perfect curve of his smile and his hand and Bitty’s heart pumping with anticipation and the adrenaline of watching Jack win. All he’d wanted was to be back in the apartment, several floors and doors shutting out the rest of the world.

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mysticlane  asked:

Prompt: um Harry and Draco going out already, but they had a big misunderstanding(Draco thinking Harry is cheating after seeing him alittle too close[physically] with a girl) and he start avoiding Harry. Draco becomes too deep into his thoughts to actually pay attention in his potion class and he accidentally drank a temporary memory diminishing type of potion instead of a memory enhancement. Now its all yours! 🤗

I hope this is something like what you imagined :)

“Alright, class! Time to test your potions!” Slughorn proclaimed to the class of eighth years.

The professor’s voice was what broke Draco out of his Harry-centric reverie. Draco shook his head resolutely as he doled out a portion of his Memory-Enhancing potion into a cup. “I have to stop getting so distracted,” he thought to himself. “Dwelling on my problems with Harry won’t fix anything.” Draco took a swig of his potion and nearly spit up at the taste of it. Strange. A Memory-Enhancing potion was supposed to taste like blueberries. Still, Draco downed the rest of what was in the cup.

And then suddenly Draco was very confused. Where was he? Potions class, it seemed. But why was he there? The last thing he could remember was falling asleep on the Hogwarts Express with his head on Pansy’s shoulder.

“Draco?” Granger said from the desk next to his. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Draco responded, because he wasn’t okay. He didn’t understand. Why was Granger being nice to him? And why in Merlin’s name couldn’t he remember anything. Draco began to feel dizzy as innumerable questions swirled in his mind.

“Draco,” Granger said, her voice filled with concern.

Draco stepped away from her, saying, “I don’t need your help,” and promptly fainted.

When Draco awoke, he was in the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey was hovering above him.

“Good, you’re awake,” Pomfrey said. She helped Draco sit up and adjusted his pillows before handing the blond a glass of pale blue liquid.

“What’s happened to me?” Draco asked, taking the glass but only after eyeing it suspiciously.

“You made a mistake when preparing your Memory-Enhancing potion, and from my assessment, it seems that the potion had quite the opposite effect.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’ve lost your memory, dear. Of the past four months at least.” Pomfrey smiled sympathetically at Draco as she let this sink in. “Good news is that this has happened before. I have potion, there,” she indicated the pale blue solution, “that will restore your memories. In eight hours, everything will come back to you.”

Draco nodded. He sniffed the drink tentatively before swallowing it all in one gulp. It tasted like blueberries.

“Very good,” Pomfrey said. She took the glass. “Now get some rest and allow the potion to do its work.”

Pomfrey stalked away, her robes swishing, and Draco regarded the empty hospital wing thoughtfully. The room was dark and quiet, so Draco assumed it was now nighttime, or at least evening. The last time he remembered being alone in this part of the castle was after Harry tried to kill him in sixth year. Draco shuddered at the memory. A part of him always wanted to believe that Harry truly didn’t know what he was doing when he cast that spell, but he never had the chance to talk to Harry about it after the war. Or maybe he had. Maybe he just couldn’t remember it. Maybe he had talked to Harry about it, and that led to him talking to Harry about other things, and he and Harry had become friends. Or even more than friends. Draco allowed himself to fantasize about this for a moment, and then pushed those treacherous thoughts away. Draco dating Harry Potter, the wonder boy? That could never happen.

Draco’s daydreams about Harry were suddenly interrupted by Harry himself barging into the hospital wing.

“Draco,” Harry said. He rushed towards the blond’s bedside and grasped his hand. “I’m so glad you’re okay, baby. Hermione made it sound like something awful.” Harry lifted Draco’s hand to his face and kissed it tenderly.

Draco’s jaw dropped. What. The. Bloody. Hell. He could not believe Harry just called him baby, and he found it even more unbelievable that Harry just kissed him, or his hand anyway. And oh God, Harry’s lips were soft. Draco wanted to feel Harry’s lips all over his body.

“P- Potter?” Draco said, his tone revealing his disbelief.

“What?” Harry looked up to Draco’s face and, seeing the expression of shock there, he immediately dropped Draco’s hand. “Oh. I see how it is,” Harry said defensively. “You’re still mad at me then. I told you, Draco, it’s nothing like you think-”

“Mad at you? What are you- what are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is that I love you and you’re too insecure to believe me!” Harry stood up from his crouched position and turned his back to Draco.

“Potter, didn’t you talk to Pomfrey?” Draco asked, although he was still trying to recover from the emotional toll of hearing Harry Potter saying that he loved him. “I fainted in Potions because I accidently made a Memory Loss potion instead of a Memory-Enhancing one.”

When Harry turned around to face Draco again, his arms were crossed and his eyes were skeptical. “You, messing up in Potions? Not likely.”

Draco couldn’t help it, he preened. “That’s true. I obviously cannot say why I messed up, since I cannot remember it, but I must have been distracted by something quite dire.”

“Something like the current state of our relationship?” Harry said bitterly, glaring at the floor.

“What relationship? Potter, I can’t remember anything since the first day of school.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “What year?”

“This year, you moron. Eighth year. Pomfrey said I must have lost about four months. That makes this, what, January?”

“Nearly February,” Harry answered grudgingly. He pulled up a chair next to Draco’s bed and sat down.

Draco watched him with curiosity. “What was all of that before?” he asked. “With the hand holding and the ‘I love you’?”

Harry flushed and he shifted in his chair awkwardly. “That was…” Harry couldn’t seem to think of any way to answer. “Are you ever going to remember the past few months?”

“In eight hours,” Draco reported matter-of-factly.

Harry sighed. “Then there’s really no point of me filling you in, is there?”

“Yes, there is! The point is that I want to know, not in eight hours, but now. I want to know now,” Draco insisted.

Harry sighed again, but he smiled a little. “You can be so obstinate at times, you know that?”

Draco smiled contentedly. “I know.”

Harry grinned full out now. “Fine. Ask me anything.”

“Are we dating?”

“Yes. Er, no. I don’t know? I hope we still are. We’ve been fighting lately.”

“Why would we fight? Is it about the war?”

“No. We’ve forgiven each other for everything that happened in the war. We’re fighting about something trivial. Something stupid. You started it.”

Draco snorted. “I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true. You’re jealous. Of Ginny. Which is ridiculous.”

“How is that ridiculous? She’s your ex-girlfriend.”

“It’s ridiculous because I am completely, veritably, incontestably in love with you.”

Draco nearly flinched at the intensity of Harry’s proclamation. “Am I in love with you?” he asked quietly, shyly.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, seemingly oblivious to how attractive the action was. “I thought so. But if you really loved me, wouldn’t you trust me?”

“I don’t know,” Draco said honestly. “Maybe I’m just scared. Scared to lose you.”

Harry’s gaze locked on Draco’s and for a moment Draco thought he could the past four months in Harry’s eyes.

“You don’t have to be scared of that. I’m never going to leave you,” Harry said, the words almost a whisper. Harry stood to go, but Draco wrapped his hand around Harry’s arm.

“Stay. For the night, I mean. And when we wake up, I’ll remember everything.”

Harry looked at Draco with affection in his expression, but he was still reluctant.

“Please stay, Harry. You said you’d never leave me.”

That was what destroyed the last of Harry’s restraint. In an instant, he was kissing Draco passionately, willing all his memories to be transferred to the blond through his lips. When the two broke apart, neither of them spoke. Draco simply scooted over to make room for Harry and Harry lay down next to Draco after setting his glasses on the bedside table. The couple ended up laying on their sides, facing each other, breaths mingling, eyes fixed upon the other’s face.

“When we wake up, and you have your memories back, will you go back to being mad at me?” Harry said softly. He traced the contours of Draco’s face with a finger, his touch feather-light.

“No. I promise I won’t.”

Harry smiled at this and pulled Draco into his arms. Draco felt his heart beat a million times a minute, like the first time he rode a broom. He couldn’t wait until morning, when he would remember all the times Harry had held him like this before, all the times Harry had kissed him before, all the times Harry told Draco he loved him before.  

“Good night, Draco,” Harry whispered. He burrowed his head into the crook of Draco’s neck.

“Good night, Harry. I’ll see you in the morning.”


Hey guys! So apparently I can’t write drabbles because every time I try, they turn into full blown fics. Here’s another one of those (I promise to write more drabbles so I can post more). I’m excited to share this one! I hope you guys like it. It’s my first 40s Bucky fic! As always, feedback is welcome! Happy Saturday guys! 

No Warnings 

Pair: 40′s Bucky Barnes x Reader

Originally posted by feueriosa

When you left your house an hour ago, it was a beautiful day. Sure, there was a little wind, just enough to pull some of your locks out of its clip, but the sky was clear and the sun was bright. 

Now, it was starting to rain and you had no umbrella and ten more blocks to go until you would reach your apartment. You walked a little faster down the city sidewalk and you felt your feet starting to slip and slosh in your wet shoes. You winced as you thought of how your sister would react when you returned them to her later that day.

Your hair had started to droop and drip down your neck as you passed another crosswalk. You were seriously debating calling a cab, but with the rain you guessed they would all be full and you didn’t have the money to pay the driver anyway. As a last resort, you pulled your thin jacket off your arms and held it above your head, trying to turn it into an umbrella. 

You reached the end of the block and stood on the sidewalk, waiting for the signal to cross the busy street. You felt drops of water seep through your dress and your stockings and you prayed that you wouldn’t wake up with a cold the next day. That was the last thing you needed. 

When all your hope started to wash away, you looked up to see navy blue fabric shielding you from the rain. Your eyes ran down its handle and up its owner’s arm until you met the stranger’s grin. Even on this grey day, you were sure his smile could replace the sun.

“Please let me walk you to where you’re going,” he pleaded with a small smirk. “I can’t bear to think of you walking alone in this weather for another minute.”

You opened your mouth to answer but you weren’t entirely sure what to say. You weren’t sure if you should trust a stranger to walk you home, even in the daylight.

But he seemed normal enough. You noticed the rain drop marks on the shoulders of his shirt and how his top button was undone. But that was the only part of him that seemed out of place. 

Your eyes quickly flickered down his large figure. He was nicely dressed, like he was coming from work or church. His suspenders were relaxed against his chest, attached to his ironed, high waist trousers. Despite the rain, his dark hair was perfectly parted and slicked, pushed behind his ears and complimenting his light skin.

You could only imagine what you looked like. You felt your hair falling out of its do, and your mascara was probably running and pooling around your eyes. And your once puffy dress was now soaking wet, clinging to your figure. The thought of how it looked made you extremely self conscious.

You were running your hands down your skirt as he continued to speak. “I don’t mean to be too forward, I just noticed you were walkin’ alone without an umbrella, and not many people are on the streets right now…”

You cleared your throat and watched the cars pass by as you spoke, hoping the distraction would allow you to form a coherent sentence. “Thank you, I would appreciate the company.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “After you,” he said as there was finally a break in the passing cars, allowing you to cross the street. You avoided the puddles as you quietly answered his questions and continued the small talk that came with meeting a handsome stranger. 

“So what brought you out into the rain today?” He asked. 

“I had to pick up some groceries for my grandmother,” you answered, gesturing to the cloth bag hanging off your arm.

“You couldn’t have waited until the rain stopped?” he chuckled, pulling his free hand out of his pocket and holding it out for the rain to drip on, like he was proving his point. 

“Well, it wasn’t raining earlier!” you laughed. “It was gorgeous this morning, didn’t you notice?”

“Nah, I’ve been inside since before dawn. I work mornings at the A&P.”  

“Really? Which one?” you asked. 

“The one on 12th.”

“That’s where I go! I must have seen you before, then.”

“No, I don’t think so,” he said as you both crossed another street.

“How do you know? Half of Brooklyn goes to that store. It’s easy to forget one face when you see hundreds a day.”

“I wouldn’t forget a face like yours,” he said.

You quickly looked across the street so he wouldn’t see the blush he put on your cheeks. But you knew he noticed when you heard him breathe out a laugh.

After a few silent steps, he cleared his throat and asked, “So, how come your boyfriend let you walk to the store all alone?”

“I don’t mind walking alone,” you answered simply. 

You came up to a large puddle on the ground and braced yourself to jump over it. You felt the handsome stranger’s strong arms hold you around your waist as he easily lifted you over the water. Once you landed, you continued. “And I don’t have a boyfriend.”

You didn’t miss the bright smile he tried to hide by licking his lips. You grinned a little, proud of your teasing, but your smile fell when you saw your apartment only a half a block away. Your time with the handsome stranger was ending. You debated lying about where you lived just to spend more time with him, but you knew taking advantage of his kindness wouldn’t do you any good.

You walked up to the dirty red stairs of your apartment and turned to face him, readjusting your bag on your shoulder. “This is my stop,” you said.

“Darn,” he said, not taking his eyes off yours, like he was memorizing the way the light bounced off them just in case he never saw you again. The intense contact made you blush and he chuckled at your reaction. 

“Thank you for walking me back.”

“My pleasure…”

“(Y/N).” You finished for him.

“Bucky.” He stuck out his hand for you to take. Your lean fingers easily slipped into his larger ones and he pulled your hand to his mouth, placing a light kiss on your knuckles. 

You left him on the street as you walked up the stairs and fished your keys out of your bag. As the front door swung open, Bucky’s voice stopped you from going inside. 

“Hey look, it stopped raining.”

You turned around to see his arms stretched out and his eyes closed as he looked to the sky that now held a rainbow. You shook your head at him and giggled, the sound making him smile brightly and turn to look at you.

“Wanna go for a walk?” he asked, cocking his head toward the sidewalk.

You smiled. “Lemme change,” you said, pulling at the wet skirt clinging to your legs. 

He nodded and leaned on the railing, a promise to be there when you returned. 



@usannika @whatsbetterthanfantasy @dontstopwiththelyin @the-renaissance @anitavalija @yesiamdeliciouslycaffeinated @annieluc @hip5t3r-m3rmaaidd-biitchhh @aenna-4 @babiedeer @heismyhunter @waikimikey @mizzzpink @kennadance14 @decemberftw @lady-thor-foster @feelmyroarrrr @dontyouforgetaboutme @lillian-paige @24hoursinaday @midnightloverslie @barnesandnoblecoupon-blog @earinafae @chameerah @axelinchen @canumoveyourseatup-no @shieldagentofthemonth @acciomasterofdeath @stentorian-lore-n

anonymous asked:

Hi, Viria. I really like your art and your blog. I was wondering, if it's not too personal, how you overcome fear? Recently I had a lot of problem with fear and I don't want let it freeze me. I hope I didn't bother you.

You don’t bother me, don’t worry! 

I’m not sure if I will come up with any kind of advice in the process, but I’ll just write how it is for me and maybe you find it somewhat helpful.

With fear, or that nervous wreck of a feeling, I usually.. kind of. don’t deal. I TRY my best to ignore it and distract myself, live the life I do in the way when I am not scared or nervous over anything. The feeling of fear, whatever caused it, will pass. I always try to remind myself that it’s going to be over soon, and whatever the fear is about it’s most likely not going to be as scary as you imagine it.

Like, when I was in the uni, before every exam, I was a nervous wreck of fear, there’s that physical feeling in your chest that something can possibly go wrong. With exams, I always tried to go first to answer, so I don’t feel that fear anymore. Because, what’s the scariest that can happen in such a situation? You don’t pass? Life doesn’t end with this. I try to remind myself that hey, everyone I love is alive, and that kind of fear I’m feeling is, well, not scary. Doesn’t feel great, but it’s not scary.

Currently, there’s like. a week left until my wedding. AND I’M SOO EXCITED BUT ALSO SO NERVOUS AND I AM KIND OF AFRAID AS WELL. I can’t sleep as well because I think about things that can go wrong, or that I will mess up or etc etc etc. But also I KNOW that it’s going to be great to matter what and that fear and nervous feeling is in reality quite irrelevant, so I distract myself and think about good stuff. That I may cry a lot, that we’re going to look so great, that we’d become a real family.

No matter what the fear is, there’s almost always something that can counterattack it. Something good on the other side of it you should focus on instead of the ball in your chest. 

At least that’s how it is for me with those…small fears, no matter how big they seem. When you fear for someone’s life, or someone’s well being, I think it’s a different thing that isn’t as easy. But still, there should always be hope that leads you forward, no matter how things are.





SUMMARY: Sometimes, you just need to get lost in a corn maze to find the totally-not-a-murderer love of your life.

A/N: this is bad and rushed but hey at least i wrote it, that counts for something right? honestly this started out as a legitimate imagine and then just went to shit so have fun reading i guess (none of it fits together or makes any sense but it’s fine)


Going to a corn maze with her friends had originally seemed like a good idea to Y/N. It was finally October, after all, and they wanted to do something to celebrate the autumn season - what could be better than a corn maze? And then someone had made it into a competition: everyone splits up and whoever makes it out first wins. Even then, everything had still seemed okay, because Y/N would be damned if she wasn’t going to win. Plus, how bad could it be, really? Pretty bad, it turned out. It had been half an hour and she was completely lost. Even worse, her phone had no service.

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A Girl Called Mike - Part 2

Originally posted by highwaytosupernatural

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Word Count: About 3500

Summary: The reader disguises herself during hunting jobs as a man named Mike and has met up with the Winchesters several times. They are unaware of her true identity. Feeling they know and trust Mike, they agree to invite the reader to the bunker.

Click Here for Part 1

Warnings: Language, Violence

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions! 

Special thanks to @misguidedconqueress for the suggestions, feedback and for putting up with me! :)


“Listen, there’s something I feel like I should tell you.” You started and paused, the next words not coming out of your mouth. “This place is sick. You bring all the babes down here?” You raved, keeping up the demeanor.

“Not quite, only a few close friends know about it. We keep it pretty private.” Sam stated.

“Ah, too bad, I could totally see a pole right here.” You showed them between the war room and the library, kicking yourself mentally for taking it too far.

Dean hit Sam’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Not a bad idea.” He agreed with a chuckle.

“Respectfully so.” You cleared your throat. “So, uh, for the Vodnik, I can go through any of these books?” You asked Sam.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll help you out.” Sam responded.

“No, I don’t want to be a burden.” You said.

“It’s okay, he gets off on it.”  Dean rationalized.

“I’m sure there is something more important for you to be doing.” You started again.

“Other than looking for another case, not really.” Sam insisted.

“Well, while you two nerds continue your sleep over, I’m going to grab some grub.” Dean joked and left for the kitchen.

“So, you got a system in place here?” You asked Sam.

“Yeah, some chronologically, others geographically.” Sam explained.

“This thing seemed to have an accent. East European.” You hypothesized.

“Okay. That gives me an idea of where we could start.” Sam concluded, grabbing some books off the shelves and handing them to you.

Not soon after you had started flipping through the pages, Dean came out with burgers and beer that no diner or bar could ever come close too.

“Oh my god,” You said with your mouth full. “This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

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pitiful puppy

pairing: baekhyun x reader
genre: fluff, hybrid!au, dog!au
request: hybrid baekhyun becoming upset because you can’t/haven’t paid attention to him

A/N: literally i had no idea what i was doing so its really short

Originally posted by progamerbyun

There it was again. With an inhale, you counted to two. And it brushed your shoulder again. 

His tail had relentlessly been wagging back and forth while he sat on his knees watching the hustle and bustle of the outside world with slight hopes it would distract him from the deprivation of affection he was facing. Whether it was his intention to brush your shoulder every few seconds was unknown to you, but there was no doubt in your mind he, too, was aware of how his tail lightly brushed your covered skin.

He hummed to himself desperately attempting to contain his desire to hold your attention; despite his focus on the people walking by outside, his mind still lingered on how you told him you were busy, sure it was harmless but in his mind? In his mind he understood it as you didn’t have time for him, maybe even you didn’t want to spend time with him. 

Pushing his bottom lip out, he raised his eyebrows as he laid his head on top of the sofa; his cheek pushing up against his eye and his ears falling over the back of the sofa. His soft hair fell over his eyes blurring his vision of the busy road.

The soft, high pitched whine erupting from the bored boy behind completely melted your fizzling away attention. Placing your work down on the table, you turned your head to see his saddened posture on the sofa. Standing up from the floor, you placed a knee just next to his feet. 

Feeling the sofa move under your weight, his tail stopped moving. “Baekhyun? Hearing your voice, a small smile pulled at his lips but he bit his bottom lip before it could show his happiness. He scrunched his eyebrows and scratched at his head to pull him out of his joyful trance to put on a facade on indifference.

His lack of reply made you move closer. Leaning forward, you placed your hand on his shoulders and planted a soft kiss on top of his head. 

“How about I finish my work later?”

"Mates” - Brett Tablot AU Imagine

Prompt by ameleleila - Hi! Can you write a Brett imagine like the mates one with Liam? 

Pairing: Brett x Reader
Word Count: 7368

Author’s Note: There was A LOT of pressure to write this fanfic. The “Mates” I wrote for Liam and posted last December got a lot of attention, a lot of love, and nothing but great and positive feedback. It’s special to me. It took me months to write it and it’s one of my favorite fan fictions I’ve ever written, but, honestly, it scares me. It holds such high standards. I’m afraid nothing will ever mount to that, which is why I’ve shot down every request I’ve gotten about making a part two, because I’m scared I’ll ruin the greatness of it.

When ameleleia requested a “Mates” fanfic for Brett, I honestly hesitated at first. I didn’t know if I could do it again and not recycle my work from Liam’s Mates. I pushed aside all my fears and grabbed the bull by the horns. Like Liam’s it was a long process of coming up with the plot and writing down the right words. Now, it’s finally here.

Lastly, this is obviously an AU. There are a few things I don’t follow from the show and made several changes as well.

Without futher ado, enjoy Brett’s Mates and you’re more than welcome to leave me feedback. Happy reading!

P. S. I’m so sorry ameleleia for taking so long with your prompt. I never forgot about your prompt. I was simply taking my time to make it the best I can for you and everyone else. And shout out to freeyourheartandsoul for being an amazing and awesome Beta! :)

Followers who asked to be tagged:  grvngemebabe fangirl-of-everything missstrangeusa

My Teen Wolf Masterlist

Age 6 – Elementary 

It was a good day. No, it was a great day for a couple of innocent kids playing outside in the front yard, throwing a lacrosse ball back and forth. It was their first year in little league lacrosse, and they were surprisingly good at it for a pair of kids who never played the sport before. Part of it was the constant practice they had with each other before and after their practice with the team. 

Like right now, Brett and Liam were playing in Brett’s front yard. They had been playing for about 20 minutes, just running around, pretending they’re playing a real game with their imaginary friends, and passing the ball towards each other. Liam threw the ball to Brett because he was about to get tackled by Cowboy Dyno, Liam’s imaginary purple elephant friend. Brett missed the ball as his eyes followed a moving van pulling up to the front of the house next door. 

The ball hit Brett on the back of his right leg, but he didn’t even feel it. He was too distracted by the moving van.

“Duuuude!” Liam exaggerated. “You missed the ball!”

“Finally!” Brett cheered as he completely ignored Liam’s comment. “Some new neighbors!”

Liam walked up to stand next to Brett. “Do you think it’s a boy? Someone we can play with?” 

“I hope its Tommy. At practice he said they were moving to a new house.” Brett said as he watched another car pull up to the drive away. Together, Liam and Brett saw a man get out of the moving van, obviously the man of the household. His wife got out of the silver Honda Pilot and helped unbuckled a little girl from the back seat. 

“Aww, man!” Liam whined. “It’s a girl.”


“She has cooties.” Liam said with so much disgust in his voice.

The little blonde haired girl in pigtails with perfect curls, which bounced with each step she took, started grabbing the light stuff to carry into her new house. Brett ran across his yard and into the one next door, Liam followed trailing behind. The girl stopped in her tracks and smiled at the boys in front of her.

“Hi! I’m Brett and this is Liam!” Brett pointed at Liam, who gave the girl a weak smile and wave, obviously not as excited about her arrival as Brett is. “Do you need some help?”

Brett noticed her cheeky smile. “Hi-ya! I’m Y/N. Maybe after you help me, we can play whatever you’re playing!” 

“We’re playing lacrosse,” Liam said. “And you can’t play if you have cooties.”

“I don’t have anymore cooties than you do, Liam.”

Brett laughed at her comeback. She was funny, he thought. I like her.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Imagine Stiles taking pole dancing classes because he sees how much strength it takes to do that shit and he feels weak and inadequate and hopes it'll help him get stronger and maybe not so clumsy. Turns out he's a natural. And the day Derek crashes the class (he thinks its regular dancing) because he needs Stiles to help him research the newest weird shit and sees Stiles working the pole goes down in Beacon Hills history as the day Derek Hale walked into a metal pole and broke his nose.

There is literally nothing I can add to this post. It is perfect. Derek Hale accidentally walking into things because he’s too distracted by Stiles will forever be my aesthetic. 

May Stiles go on to live a long and happy life as a pole dancing instructor and may Derek forever go walking into poles, falling into pools and tripping over trash cans because of it as long as they both shall live.

“You’re job is dangerous, Stiles.”

“Oh my god. I’ve been doing it for ten years, Derek. I think I’ll be fine.”

“I wasn’t talking about for you, you idiot.” 

(meanwhile their kids are probably face palming in the back ground; all they wanted was normal parents but instead their dad gives pregnant women pole dancing lessons every Tuesday in their living room while playing the Star Wars theme tune while their papa has gone through his third pair of glasses this month alone because apparently parents aren’t too old to be love sick idiots)  

jimingotmelike  asked:


okay but Jungkook leaned in a bit too????? there are so many things I’m confused about

  • Jungkoook said there was no one in the room to help him with the wifi connection so there’s no one who could’ve opened the door when Jimin came so did he have the key? Why? How? He literally broke in the second time and fell while running down the hall
  • Jungkook said there was no way Jimin could’ve heard him because his room was on the other side of the hall. How did he know? Had he already been to Jimins room? Definitely
  • The look Jimin gave Jk when he was talking about that one time he roomed with Tae in Mexico? And how Jungkook wasn’t even listening to him because his chest was too distracting?
  • How Jk was so visibly disappointed that Jimin wasn’t coming back to his room but when Tae entered he was suddenly so annoyed?
  • The thing Jimin does when he talks to Jk and his voice is really soft?
  • The way Jk just froze when Jimin touched his hair??????

I wrote something!! For @hollyand-writes​, who prompted me with: F!Fenhawke prompt from that list you put up (if you’ve got time to write a ficlet!) “With my help, your flirting will be much more socially acceptable.”

I was inspired I guess: 

Why, oh why had she encouraged her mother to give a party like that. No, not a party, a ball. A ball! Hawke is still trying to get used to being rich at all but her mother has embraced the riches of the nightmarish expedition like she’s never been a malnourished refugee, begging to be let into the city gates.

Now she is holding court at the fireplace, laughing as some wealthy widower is flirting with her. She is dressed in a glittering gown that would have paid for the whole ship fare from Lothering to this city.

Hawke is currently questioning if the trip was worth it at all if it has to end with her being trapped in layers upon layers of starched folds. As much as the dress tries to show all of her humble cleavage, it also has a high collar, starched to the point of feeling like wood and it is scratching her chin whenever she turns her head.

Because of that, she has to turn her whole body to address the young man who offers his name and a glass of white wine. She would prefer red wine but apparently, red wine is too strong for ladies and it was hard enough to convince the young man to bring her any wine at all.

She takes a sip and puts on her nicest smile as she addresses the nervous young man. “Serah Desjardin, was it?”

“Desjardins, Serah Hawke, Marlon Desjardins” he repeats, emphasizing the S at the end. “Of the Desjardins of Lydes, Orlais. You might come across that name again some time, as my family is extensive and keen on travelling.”

“That is wonderful.”

The young man looks at her with his glass of red wine stuck half way on its way to his lips. “What is?”

“Travelling?” Hawke answers, heat crawling up her neck. This is the third young man, trying to strike up a conversation with her and he at least brought her a glass of wine, so she is trying her best, but… she knows that she’s failing. “Travelling is so rewarding, to see what Thedas is made of, the people, the land…”

Desjardins takes a big gulp of his wine and Hawke sips again, a tiny sip with her lips pursed. She’s adhering to the clear instructions by her mother that a distinguished daughter of the House of Amell does A) not drink Ale and B) only takes the tiniest sips. With pursed lips. There was a whole lecture about lips and the correct pursing thereof and Hawke is pretty sure that she will get cramps around her mouth tonight from all the pursing.

The young man has emptied his glass — oh how she envies him — and thankfully hides his burp behind a hand. “Well, travelling in Thedas is not quite as romantic as you seem to think. Half of Thedas is fleeing from the Blight or something and you can’t stop the carriage for five minutes anywhere without some dirty child or knifeear begging you for food.”

Red spots appear in her vision. “How unfortunate for the people who had made a living in the country, growing the food we all eat, that they didn’t have the means to stay on their farms.” She has to call on all of her self control to not punch him in the face for ‘knifeear’.

“Yes, it’s unfortunate but there’s plenty of ways to get to places like Kirkwall without harassing innocent travellers — ”

— the stem of Hawke’s wineglass snaps in half between her fingers and the bulb tips over, falls, and shatters on the ground. Shards scatter all over her feet and her silken shoes. Small spots of blood appear where a shard has cut the delicate material and pierced the skin on her feet.

Desjardins stares at her feet with a look of disgust and then turns his nose up and raises his hand. “Servant? Servant, please.”

The remains of the glass stem crunch in her hand as she gets ready to punch that nose all the way to the Deep Roads. But a hand on her arm and a deep and calming voice in her ear stops her.

“It is unadvisable to punch one’s guests with a fist full of broken glass,” Fenris murmurs into her ear.

“Are you sure?” she replies through clenched teeth.

“Very,” Fenris says with a chuckle. He takes her arm and leads her out of the ballroom into the kitchen. He holds her hand over the kitchen sink and opens it slowly. The white glove is already colored in a bright red from the cuts in her hand, just like the tops of her shoes. Fenris pulls the long glove down from her elbow and pumps ice cold water over it.

“Mistress Hawke!” Orana yells out when she sees the blood rinsing off.

“Not mistress, Orana,” Hawke says quietly.

“I’m sorry, Serah, but what happened?”

“Nothing terrible, I was trying to flirt with some orlesian kid and he turned out to be an ass.” She slips out of the shoes and hands them to Orana with the stained glove. “I don’t know if you can fix this somehow but I would be grateful if you could. My mother is going to make me chase the cows when she sees these shoes like that.”

“Of course, Serah Hawke, I know just what to do.” She gathers everything in a towel and hides it in a lower cupboard. “I’ll get to it after the party, so that your mother doesn’t get suspicious if she doesn’t see me bring in the food.”

“Good thinking, Orana, thank you.” Hawke tiptoes to the other side of the kitchen, to the stairs that will take her up to her room without having to cross the ballroom again. Fenris follows her, his bare feet just as quiet as hers. “I could almost be a Rogue, don’t you think?” Hawke says, just as she trips over a broom and sends it down the stairs with loud clattering.

“You’d be perfect for diversion tactics,” Fenris deadpans.

Hawke sighs. “With my luck, this will not be the last catastrophe of the evening.”

“I would hardly call a fallen broom a catastrophe.” Fenris follows her in her room and closes the door behind him.

“No, I meant that stupid, arrogant, good for nothing, rich stink nose of an orlesian cow’s ass down there.” She throws off the starched jacket with its stiff collar and vows to herself to burn it later. The dress looks better like this anyway, it falls softly over her shoulders and the red fabric is a nice contrast to her dark hair. In her closet she finds another pair of flimsy shoes. She can only hope that her mother will be distracted by all the glittering nobles around her and not look at her feet too closely.

“What is it with you and the cows?” Fenris has an amused smile on his lips as he stands there next to her door like a guard.

“Fereldan farmgirl, remember?” She slips into the shoes and crosses over to him. Stopping in front of him, she stares into his green eyes. She is slightly taller than him but she always feels dwarfed by his control and strength. “I guess, I have to get back down there now.”

He swallows, his eyes dropping to her lips before meeting her eyes again. “Yes, probably.” He smiles at her. “But you might want to avoid flirting with orlesians.”

She groans. “I could arm wrestle all of them in my sleep but talking to them?”

Fenris chuckles. “Maybe I can help.”


“At least, with my help, your flirting will be much more socially acceptable than that.”

Hawke clenches her fists and sighs. “Alright, what should I talk about?”

Fenris grins. “First and foremost, you should not talk but listen. Make the man feel important by listening intently, asking him questions about what he does.”

“But I don’t care!” she groans out. “They’re all so boring.”

“Ask me.”

“About what?”

Fenris bows towards her, one leg stepping behind him, his back perfectly straight. Hawke is astonished how perfectly aristocratic he looks.

“Serah Hawke, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Fenris. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Hawke struggles to get her knees to bend to the kind of curtsy that her mother has taught her. “The pleasure is all mine, Serah Fenris. What brings you to Kirkwall?”

Fenris gives her an encouraging smile and then falls back into his role. He stands straight, his head held high and it is a stark contrast to his usual stance of being ready to fight at all times. “I’m collecting books on elven and Tevinter history and I’m hoping to find a few rare pieces for my collection here.”

“Oh, how interesting,” Hawke says. “Have you found anything yet?”

Fenris interlaces his fingers and nods. “Yes, I saw a few promising places at the market this morning and I plan to return to it tomorrow. Would you like to accompany me for that?”

Hawke isn’t sure if this is part of the game or if he’s really asking her to go with him, just them, without the others. It would be a first. “Yes, I would love to,” she rushes to say before the moment passes.

Fenris blushes and opens his mouth but closes it again without speaking.

“Ehm,” Hawke stammers, “what do I do if I don’t know what to say anymore?”

Fenris swallows. “You could always ask for a dance.”

Hawke holds her hand towards him. “Would you like to dance with me, Serah Fenris?”

“It would be my pleasure,” he says and his voice has a new rasp to it. He takes her hand and holds it out to the side and wraps his other arm around her waist, pulling her close. The music from the ballroom is muted but still loud enough for them to hear.

He takes a careful step forward and Hawke lets herself be steered by his lithe form pressed against her. He leads her in a slow circle around herself, holding her so close that she couldn’t stray away from his steps if she wanted.

But she doesn’t want to step away. She doesn’t care for the party downstairs, where her mother is probably already looking for her. She wants to stay here, in Fenris’ strong arms, guided around her room to the faint sound of music. She leans into him, closing her eyes as her cheek rests against his ear.

She has never danced like this before.

The music stops and Fenris twirls her out of his arms and pulls her back again. She laughs, slightly dizzy from the spin and he holds her so that she doesn’t stumble. She catches a glimpse of his eyes and her heart stops for a beat. She can’t put into words what she sees in them but they pull her towards him like a force.

Their lips connect, softly, fleeting, barely more than a dash of wind across a rose petal.

They both freeze.

It can’t be more, not now, they both know. But it’s more than she has ever hoped for.

“We must go back downstairs,” he mumbles against her lips.

“I know.” She lets her lips stay open, softly pressing forward. She feels him hesitate but then he presses back, his lips open like hers.

The music downstairs swells up again and the moment shatters. They both step back, and Hawke takes a deep breath. She holds out her arm for Fenris to take.

He wordlessly takes it and leads her out of the room and down the stairs. When a group of elegantly dressed men turn around to look at her, her lets go of her arm and retreats into the background like a bodyguard.

He watches her, how she charms the men, her flirting obviously improved. Occasionally she glances over to him, giving him a smile that nobody else ever gets from her.

That is enough. It’s more than he has ever thought possible for someone like him.

I hope you like it @hollyand-writes. :D

So Far Gone
Thousand Foot Krutch

(So Far Gone)

Quite a number of you were pretty upset with the first 4 frames I posted as wips(it was very entertaining to read some of your tags) but don’t worry!! Makoto and Haru will get through anything and they’ll come out stronger. Keep your heads up!!

Also I’m sorry that it’s such a long post(especially if you’re not into Free! or makoharu)!


factanonverbadeedsnotwords  asked:

The Yogscast part was implied. If it is not to much trouble can I ask for Duncan and Kim dressed in S.A.S combat armour from Rainbow Six Siege. I now it's odd and if you don't want to do it not a problem. I like your work by the way.

I got a bit distracted binging on playing Breath of the Wild so this is super late, but I hope it’s worth the wait! :D It’s probably very inaacurate too since I know nothing about RSS, so I hope I got the right outfit! @factanonverbadeedsnotwords

band!jk 02

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

summary: “You told him who your favorite member is and he’s not sure how to react.”

genre/au: fluff, band!au

premise: “BTS is a well-known band that regularly releases songs, but the identities of their members are kept as a secret. You’re very much into them, much to the struggle of your best friend, Jungkook, who regularly stresses with the fact that he’s actually part of BTS, but he can’t muster the courage to tell you and confess his feelings to you.” drabble au

→ pairing: jeon jungkook | reader

→ rating: T (swearing)

→ word count: 1.7k

drabble set: 01 | 03 | 04

If people were to be asked what they like most about BTS, they would always say that it’s the music. After all, the fans could never describe the members’ personalities or looks because the members’ identities were pretty much hidden from the world. Aside from the rare interviews and live shows (though they do wear masks in their concerts), the members were a mystery to all the fans, especially since they used aliases to address themselves in public.

Keep reading

just coffee

Wherein Waverly and Nicole try to make good on being just friends following the spat in Nicole’s cruiser in episode 1x09.

Sort of an AU? But more like a filler? …It can be both! And all fluff. That’s all I write, really: fluff.

Also on AO3. Approximately 3,486 words.

Other friends fic: just another tuesday (Topic: Waverly’s birthday)

“…Well maybe… just friends…”

“Yea, sure, Waverly. Whatever you want.”

Coffee. They agreed to coffee. Shorty’s Saloon. 3:00PM. Between lunch and dinner when the bar was closed. Waverly didn’t feel like setting up for the night alone and Nicole had a few hours between her first and second shifts.

Easy. No pressure. Familiar spot.


Nicole Haught stood outside the diamond-shaped windows of Shorty’s front doors. She shifted the duffle bag in her hand, a change of clothes she hadn’t had time for at the station. She also held her white Stetson respectfully to her chest.

Instead of eagerness, Nicole’s heart felt heavy.

It was all too familiar.

High school. College. The academy. Lather, rinse, repeat, Friends. Once in a blue moon did the cycle break. Just not this time, apparently.

It had been stupid to think this was gonna end any differently. All those little breadcrumbs of hope Nicole had been feeding on, those little smiles and glances and touches…

Stupid stupid stupid. I blew it.

If only she hadn’t been distracted outside the station the other day. If only she had been listening to what Waverly was trying to confess, instead of frustrated about Purgatory being its weird Purgatory self. She did get the chance to apologize, but the damage was already done. And here Nicole was. Standing outside Shorty’s to hang out with her Just Friend, Waverly Earp.

God. Damn. It.

Taking a deep breath, Nicole pressed into the heavy doors but they didn’t budge. She rapped a knuckle against the window and waited. After a few seconds, she heard the click-chunk of a deadbolt. Enough time to smooth her frown into an easy-going smile.

Waverly poked her head out, relief etched in her features. She twisted at a white bar towel in her hands. “Oh thank God,” she chirped with a broad smile. “I was afraid you weren’t gonna show.” Waverly held the heavy door open for Nicole to slip in before relocking the deadbolt behind them.

“Promise is a promise,” Nicole replied, hopefully managing to mask her bitterness. She held up her duffle. “Mind if I change? Hoping to squeeze in a run before evening shift. Gotta be fresh for all that paperwork.” She shot Waverly a mock-serious look and was rewarded with a smile.

“Of course!” Another chirp as Waverly tossed the bar towel over her left shoulder. She pointed at the back “Staff” door. “I’m almost done cleaning the coffee machine. How do you take yours?”

“I’ve heard good things about that Shorty’s cappuccino. Two sugars?”

A sunshine smile with a finger-gun. “You got it,” Waverly replied as she swept behind the bar over to a partly disassembled machine, chrome pieces glistening from a recent rinse.

The Staff room was hardly more than an over-sized closet with a safe for cash, an old computer for inventory, and a cracked window with an ashtray on the sill for smoke breaks. A shitty toilet latch secured the door, enough privacy for Nicole to peel off/fold her uniform shirt and khakis and swap over to running shoes, blue-striped pants, and a long-sleeve Purgatory Sheriff’s Department henley.

Threading fingers through long red hair, Nicole pulled out the French braid and snapped a hair tie to her wrist as she exited the break room.

Back at the bar, Waverly was struggling to kneel on an unstable bar stool to reach a high cabinet. A tan wrist barely crested the edge, fingers feeling blindly as Waverly’s tongue stuck out the side of her mouth in concentration. Her hockey-style Shorty’s shirt rode up higher than normal, Nicole noticed, before dismissing that thought immediately.

“Just friends.”

Nicole strode up as she finished binding her hair in a simple ponytail. “Need some help?”

Hazel eyes lit up in response. “Could you? The lunch crew likes to hide the espresso grounds in the back to screw with me. Still as hilarious now as it was three years ago.” Waverly rolled her eyes before spinning playfully on the bar stool on her knees.

“Three years, huh?” Nicole asked, light and conversational. She dropped her gym bag and Stetson on the counter then flipped the small wooden divider to reach the inside of the horseshoe-shaped bar.

Where the shorter Earp needed a stool, the Officer stood up on tip-toes before her fingers wrapped around a crinkling bag of coffee in the cabinet. When she turned, Nicole could have sworn she saw Waverly’s gaze… somewhere else. For just a second.

“Just friends?”

“Since I was 18.” Waverly accepted the bag (which smelled of a rich dark roast) then measured out a few cups into the coffee machine. The device fired up with a steaming hiss accompanied by warm bubbling sounds.

Turning back to Nicole, Waverly started counting on her fingers. “Before here, I worked at JD’s Restaurant down the street. Didn’t pay as well, but more time to read. I bagged groceries at Safeway before that. And I delivered pizza for one shitty week when I was 16. Hated that job. And in between, I taught some summer gymnastics and dance classes at the rec center for really little kids. That was fun.”

“Busy and popular girl,” Nicole remarked as she leaned her backside against the bar. It was strange being on this side of the counter, like she didn’t belong. Like they were equals instead of customer/server.

Like… friends?

As she started steaming the milk, Waverly shrugged off the compliment. She shot Nicole a curious look. “What about you? What did Pre-Officer Nicole Haught do?” There was a strain to Waverly’s smile, like it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Not as rich a life, I’m afraid.”

“Try me.” There it was. That warm smile returned as Waverly scooped sugar into a coffee mug.

“Well,” Nicole started, her hands running along the counter edge behind her. “I worked at Tim Horton’s almost every weekend from high school through university. …Not the same one. Transferred to a different store when I went away for college. But the same routine. Still remember all the menu numbers by heart.” She smirked at another memory. “I was also a lifeguard for a miserable summer when I was 16.”

Long hair swept over a shoulder as Waverly looked over at Nicole. “Ooo! How was that? I always wanted to lifeguard but the pool is too far away.”

Reaching up, Nicole pulled at her ponytail and to show Waverly. “You see this red hair, right? I spent more time bathing myself in sunscreen than I did watching the pool. When one sunburn ended, another would begin. But I was trying to buy a car so I had to stick it out.” She tossed the red strands back over her shoulder and shook her head. “I’m just happy I didn’t get skin cancer… that I know of.” She shot Waverly a theatrical, fearful look.

The smile on Waverly’s face was hard to read. It was a soft, thoughtful crinkle. And just as a faint red started to touch her cheeks, she turned back to the coffee machine. Waverly deftly mixed the espresso into the cup before topping it with foam. She started to slide the mug over to Nicole, but suddenly thought better of it. Waverly snapped her fingers and started digging around under the bar.

Nicole leaned over to reach for the cup, but a hand appeared from below to gently slap her knuckle.

“Just a second! I keep forgetting I bought these.” Waverly appeared a second later with a small container of cocoa powder and a couple of round stencils with simple designs. She offered the metal, paddle-like set to Nicole. “I saw ‘em on Etsy. …I tried the foam pouring trick from YouTube, but I couldn’t even do like a basic heart.” She sighed and rolled the cocoa powder cylinder between her palms.

It was hard for Nicole to hide an endearing smile. Because she had just pictured Waverly hovering at the bar, making cup after cup of espresso and trying to artfully pour milk in. It also made her select a stencil without thinking it through.

Nicole held up the flat metal stencil of a heart, then had to bite her lip to keep the blush from spreading. The choice was not lost on Waverly, whose eyes widened.

Scrunching up her face, Nicole tried to hide the stencil behind her back. “Sorry. I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to—I just thought since you said you had trouble doing a heart the other way… this could count as a success.” She closed her eyes and gave a deep sigh.

God. Damn. It.

Waverly’s voice was soft and small, but confident. “Okay.”

Nicole’s eyes shot open. The other woman wasn’t awkward or blushing. She just held out her hand and offered that crinkling smile. “…okay?” Nicole repeated.

“The customer is always—mostly—right… right? And I said I owed you a coffee, right?” Waverly made a grabby motion with her hand.

“Fair enough,” Nicole said with a small clearing of her throat.

With that, Waverly turned and dusted a (slightly lopsided) heart over the top of the steaming cappuccino. She presented it back with a dramatic flourish. “And thus, the debt is repaid.”

Nicole nodded her thanks and took a sip. She could feel the foam coat her upper lip, but it was hard to take her eyes off Waverly, who stared back intently.

“So? How is it?”

Warm. The cocoa powder adds a nice flavor. Sugar cuts the acid of the espresso. All in all, solid.

“Pretty good,” Nicole said with a nonchalant shrug. She allowed herself another deep sip before swiping her thumb over her lips.

Waverly scowled. “’Pretty good?’ That’s it?” She crossed her arms over the bold SHORTY’S type on her jersey.

Well, we are just friends… Friends can be honest, right?

Nicole tried to soften with a lilting question. “I’ve had better?”

An offended (if good-natured) scoffing noise. “Your gratitude is overwhelming.”

“I’m kidding. It is really good. A good pick-me-up before my run. Thank you, Waverly.” A pause. “…I have had better, though. If I’m being completely honest.” Nicole allowed herself a teasing smile.

Waverly poured herself the rest of the espresso, unruffled by the critique. “Where at?” She wrinkled her nose in thought with one eye skyward. “I think the best coffee I’ve had is in the city at the fancy hotel we had for Prom. So good with like homemade whip cream and everything.”

“There’s this amazing café in Las Vegas where…”


No, we are not going into that right now. Not on a first—er, not on a chill friends hangout between friends and only friends.

Nicole cleared her throat. “…well, they made a mean mocha cappuccino.”

“Did it have a fancy—?” Waverly trailed off as she made a gesture over the top of Nicole’s coffee.

“…It did. The logo of the café with lots of swirls.”

That faux-scowl returned. “Damn it. I knew it. Back to YouTube, I guess.” A smile curled across Waverly’s cheek as she patted the cocoa container over her own coffee, this time a sprinkled star on top. She settled in next to Nicole, mirroring her lean against the bar counter. They were just far apart to not be touching.

“I’ve never been to Vegas,” Waverly said thoughtfully with a loud sip. “Never left the Ghost River Triangle, actually. Been here my whole life.”

“Not even for, like, a family vacation? Or a school trip?”

A derisive laugh in reply. Waverly’s nose wrinkled with the barest hint of a scowl. “Just to the city. School trips to the museum or the stockyard for 4H stuff. And no family vacations. Daddy died when I was 6 and Aunt Gus and Uncle Curtis were too busy with Shorty’s or their farm to bother with something like that. Though now with Uncle Curtis gone…” She trailed off, long hair slipping over her cheeks as her head tilted down.

Reaching out, Nicole gently touched Waverly’s wrist. She was slow and careful, trying to avoid the awkwardness that happened in her cruiser. Two soft strokes before the hand returned to Nicole’s coffee mug.

We should go somewhere, Nicole wanted to say. She could even mean it in a friendly way… sort of. Mostly. Maybe.

“I never did much as a kid either,” Nicole said instead. “Didn’t start seeing any of the world til I graduated college. And that was mostly training camps and emergency management excursions sponsored by the government.”

After a few moments in silence, Nicole nudged Waverly’s side with a gentle elbow. “Well, I’m glad you stuck around Purgatory.”

Waverly gave a small sniff as she reached up to push her hair back. “Me too” was barely audible past a soft smile.

An alarm on Nicole’s phone chimed, a reminder to start her workout soon so she’d have time to return to the station to shower before paperwork. But she wasn’t quite ready to leave just yet.

“Gotta go?”

“…I’ve got time.” Nicole took a slow sip, smiling into the cup. “So, what is a day in the life of Waverly Earp?”

Chuckling, Waverly stroked her chin. “With Wynonna? I don’t even know anymore.”

“Hard to plan around?”

Impossible,” Waverly confirmed with a sigh. “Used to just be yoga, study, Shorty’s, sleep. And occasionally I’d go out with—well…”

Another nose wrinkle and tight smile. Waverly certainly did that a lot, each with a different meaning. This one seemed a mix between embarrassment and a scowl.

…Champ. Of course.

Waverly did not elaborate. Instead, she took a deep sip of her coffee before continuing. “…but with Wynonna and Dolls and their coming and going all hours of the day and night… Some days I’m grateful I make it to work, if only for the familiar routine.” Her face fell as she glanced behind them.

Nicole followed her gaze to an empty booth near the door with a large spread of paperwork. Official looking documents were arranged in haphazard stacks.

“Anyway.” Waverly cleared her throat and pushed up from the counter. “I’m keeping you from your run.” A tired, evasive smile as Waverly busied herself with stowing the cocoa and stencils back under the bar.

Rumbling out an “Okay,” Nicole relinquished her empty coffee mug to the busy woman. As she started to gather her duffle and Stetson, a snapping noise turned Nicole’s attention.

“Hey! What are you doing for dinner?” Waverly stood with her arms crossed, hip thrust out, expression neutral.


It was hard for Nicole not to stare back, heart stuck in her throat. “I—I was… I don’t—“

Waving a menu, Waverly skipped over to Nicole. “You’ll probably be hungry after a run, yea? I could ask Martin to fire up the grill early so you could take something back to the station?”


“Oh. That would be… really great, actually. Lunch was forever ago.”

Not as great as—well.

Waverly smiled broadly. “And you could save the trip to your car and just pick your stuff up when you get back, right?”

Finally regaining her composure, Nicole managed a smile of her own. “You just want an excuse to try on my hat.”

“Maaaaaybe,” Waverly returned with a singsong. She walked her fingertips over to the white cowboy hat. But instead of trying it on, she stowed both under the bar in a clean, safe spot. “…not while you’re looking, obviously.”


Surveying the menu, Nicole asked, “Which is your favorite?”

“Oh! Hmmm!” Her long hair swayed with her head-tilt. “Probably the nachos, though only because it’s like the only vegetarian thing on there.” A nose wrinkle and a shrug.

Vegetarian. Noted.

“Pass,” Nicole replied with a grin. She pointed at an item under SANDWICHES. “How’s the chicken salad?”

“I’m told it’s great. I’ll get Marty on it when he’s up from his nap.”

Pulling her wallet from her pocket, Nicole waved a $10 bill.

Waverly shrugged it off. “On the house. I know the manager.” She winked and flicked a towel at Nicole to vacate the bar. “Get going, Haught! No rest for the wicked!” And just like that, Waverly pushed through the double doors to the kitchen and was gone.

Folding the bill, Nicole tucked it into the large glass (empty) tip jar before pulling her wireless ear buds from a zippered side pocket. A hard guitar riff started up in her playlist, “Bury Me With My Guns On” escorting Nicole down the Purgatory street.

Nicole rapped on the glass once more, out of breath and feeling the chill of the air through her henley. She smiled broadly at the sound of the deadbolt. That smile froze on Nicole’s face when she was greeted not by Waverly, but a stern older woman.

“Mrs. MacCready.”

“Officer Haught,” the woman returned cooly, dark eyes hard. She did allow Nicole entrance, but with sharp, abrupt movements. Gus called for Waverly, who was apparently in the kitchen.

There was an awkward silence as Gus headed to the closest booth, paperwork waiting at the table. She continued writing for a few moments, allowing Nicole to quietly catch her breath and rub the chill from her arms.


“Yes, ma’am?” Nicole replied with respect, stretching out her calves on the wooden steps. She smiled awkwardly.

Gus did not return her smile. “You know, Champ used to come around. Begging for freebies. Free food. Free booze.” It was a loaded, simple statement. She glanced over at Nicole significantly before returning to her papers.

Defensiveness burned in Nicole’s chest. “I’m not Champ, ma’am. I offered to pay. Waverly wouldn’t let me.” She gestured to the tips jar, her folded $10 bill from earlier balanced upright.

Gus’s dark eyes flicked over to the jar, an impressed pull at her cheeks before her stoic expression took over. “Hm.”

The comparison was not lost on Nicole. And it felt like she’d just passed a test of some sort. Especially since this was the longest conversation she’d ever had with the matron of Shorty’s.

A shout drew Nicole’s attention to the kitchen. “You’re back!” Waverly grinned wide, holding a styrofoam container in triumph. “Perfect timing! Just pulled the fries from the deep fryer.” A plastic bag rustled at her wrist as she bagged the container with a few packets of ketchup.

With Gus watching, Nicole pushed away the temptation to go back to the familiarity behind the bar. She fixed a smile to her cheeks and met Waverly at the apex of the horseshoe counter. Nicole’s duffle and Stetson were already waiting for her.

“Have a good run?” Waverly asked.

No. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I ran away so hard from this place that I was out of breath for 10 minutes… then I had to run all the way back.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

“It was fine, thank you. Everything okay here?”

Waverly’s voice was a warm chirp. “Perfect! Thanks for keeping me company earlier.” She patted Nicole’s collection and pushed it over. “Good luck with all that paperwork tonight!”

Thank you, Waverly,” Nicole said warmly. “For—well—everything.” Her fingertips accidentally brushed Waverly’s wrist, but the woman didn’t flinch. In fact, she smiled wider.

Setting her Stetson on her head, Nicole tipped it at Gus MacCready as she padded up the steps. The woman’s chin raised in acknowledgement, but she returned to her documents.

Outside in her cruiser, Nicole opened the passenger door to stow her food and duffle. A flash of pink caught Nicole’s attention out of the corner of her eye. Inside the bag stuck to the Styrofoam container was a post-it note. On it was Waverly’s SnapChat handle with a doodle of a cowboy hat.

Nicole smiled and settled into the driver’s seat before pulling out her phone. Tapping into her own app, she added a “Waverly95” and sent an invite from “NHaught.”

Nicole turned on the cruiser on and angled towards the municipal building (a quick 5 minute ride a few streets over). She would have plenty of time for a shower and change before starting on her evening work. The day off tomorrow would be a welcome distraction from… all of this.

Except her phone pinged as she pulled into the private lot. New SnapChat from “Waverly95.”

A series of images streamed onto Nicole’s phone. All of Waverly at Shorty’s in her Stetson.

Waverly at the piano pretending to play.

Waverly making a face next to the grainy image of Wyatt Earp, her finger a pretend-moustache.

Waverly with an arm around Gus, who looked to be mid-conversation and confused by the phone in her face.

Waverly pursing her lips with the hat tilted over one eye.

Waverly pretending to talk to a beer mug wearing the Stetson, a fake laugh frozen on her face.


Wait wait wait.

…What?! What was that second to last one?!

But it was gone, the app timer ticked down to zero.

God. Damn. It.

anonymous asked:

KP anon- all this reg/clar on my dash kinda got me into it so!! This is kinda dumb but...Clarus having a sort of bad pollen allergy but it won't stop him from following Regis into the gardens. He's sniffling and trying not to sneeze while Regis tends to the garden (it helps him think). Regis insists he doesn't have to be there but Clarus is adamant about staying because he loves watching Regis tend to his flowers, he thinks it's cute. Eventually they get distracted smooching in the royal gardens

How cute! I’m getting sucked into the RegClar hell, too, let’s go down together. I’m sorry I have never actually attempted to write anything for these two, so I hope I don’t screw it up too bad ^^;; 

Originally posted by pray-for-the-sun

The Silver Lining
Regis/Clarus (fluff) 

Spring was the worst. It was the actual worst. Spring was when the gardens at the Citadel were in full bloom, and wherever Clarus went he couldn’t seem to escape the smell of flowers. The throne room, the corridors, even the training hall were overwhelmed by the scent of the rose bushes budding to life. 

Not that Clarus disliked flowers, or anything. He didn’t feel any particular way or the other about flowers. It was just that….well. Flowers didn’t seem to like him very much. He’d never admitted to the others about his terrible allergies (Cid would never have let him live it down), and thus spent every spring avoiding the outdoors as much as humanly possible. 

Until, well….. 


From his position on his knees Regis glanced up at Clarus and frowned, bright blue eyes full of concern. “Have you caught a cold? Here,” he said, passing him a handkerchief from his vest pocket. 

Clarus grunted. While he accepted the kerchief, he did little more than hold it delicately between his thumb and forefinger, not wanting to sully the expensive silk. “Nah, it’s nothing. Just a little – ah…. aahh….AHhCHOoo!  ….allergy.”

“Allergy?” Setting down his trowel, Regis got to his feet, brushed the barely visible amount of dirt from his knees, and looked Clarus square in the eyes. “Allergy to what? Is it serious?” 

“Nah, ‘s nothin’, don’t worry about it.” With his face half-hidden behind his hand (he’d intended to wipe his nose but was now too embarrassed to pull it away), Clarus cleared his throat and tried hard not to meet that piercing gaze. That gaze that had always been able to see right through him, to see when he was lying. Well, not telling the full truth. 

Which was different, right? 

Apparently not. “Clar, is that why you’ve been missing training so much this week? You were sick and didn’t tell me!” Oh no, not the pout, please not the pout. 

Regis stuck out his bottom lip ever so slightly and Clarus forced back a whine. “And you followed me out to the gardens?! Are you trying to put yourself in the infirmary?” 

“Regis, it’s not a big deal, really I – .“ Clarus suddenly stopped. His eyes widened, his face twisting into a mask of tension and strain. In front of him, Regis flushed with panic. 

“Clar? Clarus! What is it?!” He lunged forward, gripping strong shoulders in his delicate palms and feeling his chest tighten with concern. “Are you alr – “


The sneeze rocked them both, Regis suddenly clinging to his friend for fear of tumbling backwards with the force of it. With one hand, Clarus had managed to guard most of the damage, while the other had struck out on instinct to wrap around his prince’s waist. And so there they stood, chest to chest and staring at each other with eyes wide with surprise, until with a polite cough Regis stepped back to a more (barely) appropriate distance.

“You fool,” he smiled, and plucked his handkerchief from he other’s iron grip. Clarus didn’t resist when delicate fingers removed his hand from in front of his face, or even when the soft dab of silk began to wipe away the mess from his lips. 


“What in Eos possessed you to come out here with me if you knew you’d get sick?” The young prince was still smiling, his cheeks a soft shade of pink as he concentrated on cleaning Clarus’ upper lip. 

Shifting a little uncomfortably on his feet, the Shield resisted the urge to pull the other man back into his arms. It was more of a struggle than was probably healthy, and he could almost picture Weskham’s disapproving frown already… 

“Well, uh. It’s just that when you’re gardening you… y’know, you get really into it. It’s um.” Don’t say cute, whatever you do, do not say – “Cute.”

“C-cute?” Blue eyes widened to discs, and Regis paused with his fingers (and the handkerchief between them) hovering just above full, tight lips. “You think I’m….?”

“W-well, yeah.” Clarus kicked himself mentally, but he had come too far to back out now. Past the point of no return. He risked a side glance at the garden’s main entrance. Empty. They were alone, thank the Six. “When you get excited about flowers, you’re…cute. And, y’know. Other times, too.”

“Like when?”

Regis was watching him with something more than casual interest in his shining eyes, and Clarus found himself unable to look away. Not that he wanted to,  of course. Because he was pretty sure they were having a moment and he’d be damned if he was going to miss an opportunity like this, proper or not. 

So with a soft sound in the back of his throat, he once again settled his arm around Regis’ waist and guided them both back several steps. Until they were completely hidden behind the rose bushes, free from prying eyes. “Like right now,” he answered, and smiled at the way his king’s cheeks flared. 

“Clarus?” Regis swallowed, his throat bobbing deliciously as his tongue flicked out to wet suddenly parched lips. Amber eyes didn’t miss the act. “I’m thinking… I’d like to kiss you.”

As hot as they felt, Clarus’ cheeks had to be just as red as the smaller man’s, if not redder. “I’m all snotty and gross,” he said, wishing he wasn’t.

“I…don’t mind.”


“Can you… bend down a bit?”

“Uh, y-yeah. Like thi – “

His words were cut short as Regis suddenly pushed himself up onto his toes and closed the distance. Their lips met, an awkward and chaste kiss, but a kiss nonetheless. Clarus, too, let his eyes flutter closed, pulling Regis closer against his body as their mouths adjusted to the long-overdue contact. Neither wanted to pull away, neither wanted to stop. Slowly, Regis began to move his lips, sliding them over his Shield’s and marveling at the warmth spreading through his entire body, and at how comfortable he felt in Clarus’ arms. 

They likely could have spent the entire afternoon like that – lip-locked and enchanted together in the garden – if Clarus hadn’t gone and ruined the moment with another glass-shattering sneeze. 

Regis pulled away with a laugh, light and carefree, as he attempted to shove the handkerchief back in his friend’s face. “We’d best get you inside,” he suggested with an altogether undignified smirk. “You should lie down for a while.”

“H-huh? Wait, Reg, where are you – ?!”

He was dragged off with surprising strength, back toward the main hallway and (eventually) toward the prince’s own bedroom, hoping to the gods that Weskham – or worse, King Mors – didn’t come looking for them for the rest of the afternoon. 

Or evening. 

Or the rest of the night, for that matter.