look at his little gap tooth

So I got bored and checked the weather for both Almaty and St. Petersburg and they're hilariously different so here's an otayuri drabble

Why the hell Yakov was making him practice in this heat, Yuri had no idea. But he hated him for it.

Sure, it wasn’t drastically hot, but 19°C was hot for St. Petersburg, and Yuri could be enjoying the weather if A: it wasn’t so humid, and B: Yakov wasn’t making him practice.

Yuri tipped his head back, the vertebrae in his neck creaking and tense muscles stretching.

“Hey Yakov-”

“Give me a perfect triple axel into a spread eagle and you’re free to go.” The old man told him, drinking from the water bottle handed to him by Lilia.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Yuri said, exasperated. “In this heat?”

“Vitya’s been making Katsuki practice his quads all day, at least I’m not that cruel.” Yakov shrugged.

“Actually, I’m doing this voluntarily.” Yuuri called, taking off and landing a frustratingly perfect quad flip.

“I’ve been trying to make him come home for hours Yakov, this is none of my doing.” Viktor groaned, leaning against the barrier and wiping his brow.

“You said it yourself Vitya,” Yuuri shrugged, pulling off an effortless triple axel into a spread eagle. “I’m going to need to try my best to beat you.”

“I’ve created a monster. I’m doomed.” Viktor sighed defeatedly, gazing at Yuuri.

“And Yurio-” He started, trailing lazily around the rink.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’m not stopping until I have both records, so I suggest you watch yourself.”

“Getting cocky, now are we, Katsudon?” Yuri asked, cocking a brow.

“Well it’s not the only thing I’m getting.” Yuuri shrugged, taking off into a perfect quad salchow, winking at Viktor as he landed.

“What the fuck have you done to him, Vitkor?” Yuri asked, slightly disgusted at the innuendo.

“I don’t know!” Viktor said exasperatedly.

“Alright, that’s it.” Yakov sighed. “Katsuki, get your ass out of my rink before you kill yourself.”

“I’m not even tired though.” Yuuri sighed, taking off into a quad loop.

“You’re hell bent on destroying my skaters and I can’t have that. Get out before you hurt yourself.” Yakov said firmly.

“But-”

“Yuuri.” Mila started. “We adore you, you’re sweet and talented and everything but with every jump you land, Yakov pushes us that much harder, so please, for the love of god, get the fuck out of the rink.”

“Okay, okay.” Yuuri sighed, finally skating off of the rink, Mila earning an exhausted ‘thank you’ from Viktor, who followed behind Yuuri.

“Yura. Triple axel. Now.” Yakov said firmly, folding his arms.

“Seriously?!”

“Yes. Now.”

“I’d like to see you do it, old man.” Yuri huffed, crossing his arms.

“Just do it, Yuri.” Yuuri called. “Anyway, we’re leaving for today, guys.”

“Finally!” Georgi groaned.

“Please take like, the next week off, you’re making us look bad.” Mila joked.

“No actually do, you’re driving me insane.” Yuri called.

“And Yakov said I couldn’t coach anyone.” Viktor smirked, pecking Yuuri on the cheek.

“Just leave already.” Yakov sighed. “Yuri, triple axel. I’m waiting.”

“For fucks sake, do I have to?”

“Do you want to lose the Olympics?”

“… fine.”

“That’s what I thought.”


Yuri unlocked his dorm, dumping his duffle bag at the door and kicking his shoes off. It’d been a week since Yakov and Lilia’s asshole of a son kicked Yuri out of his mother’s house.

He stalked over the mini fridge in the corner of his room, opening it and pulling out a cold can of fanta, wrenching open the tab and flopping down on his bed.

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, unlocking it and opening up whatsapp, ignoring the 689 missed texts from the Barcelona GPF group chat and scrolling to Otabek’s contact, selecting video call.

Otabek picked up after around the 3rd ring, and the imagine Yuri was greeted with wasn’t what he expected.

A flushed, tanned, sweaty, muscular chest and a giggling little girl in the background. The camera shakily carried up to Otabek’s face, where it was obvious that he older boy was fast asleep.

“Bekaaaa!” Giggled the little girl, a bony little hand with garish pink nail polish and ratty bracelets pressing down on Otabek’s chest. “Oyanw! Beka! Käne Beka!”

Otabek made a weird noise between a snort and a squawk, eyes snapping open suddenly as he lurched forwards.

“Sälem aytşı Yura!” The little girl giggled.

“Natya…” Otabek murmured groggily. “Nege telefonım bar?” He asked, reaching for the phone and pulling the little girl to the side. “Bul öte jaramsız.” He scolded, blowing a raspberry into the little girl’s cheek.

“Um… is this a bad time?” Yuri asked awkwardly, taking a sip from his soda can. “I can go…”

“Crap! Yura, I forgot. Sorry, I fell asleep and my little sister took my phone-”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Yuri shrugged. “It’s kinda cute.”

Otabek laughed, ruffling his sister’s messy black hair.

“Sälem Yura!” She grinned, waving at the screen.

“She says hi.” Otabek grinned, translating.

“Hi Natalia.” Yuri smiled, waving back, earning a gap-toothed grin from the little girl.

“Natya, Siz bizden kete alasız ba?” Otabek asked his sister, slipping back into his native tongue.

She nodded, waving at the screen.

“Bayt Yura!” She giggled, running off.

“She’s adorable.” Yuri smiled, sipping from the can again.

“I know.” Otabek grinned.

“Did you teach her to call me that?”

“Call you what?”

“To call me Yura?”

“She’s called you that since she saw you on TV at the Russian Nationals two years ago.”

“Why though?”

“Don’t look at me, she just does.”

Oh, Yuri was look at him.

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

“Huh?”

“You’re half naked. At least I think you are… I can only see your chest.”

“I’m wearing underwear if that’s what you’re asking.” Otabek snorted, flashing Yuri a crooked grin.

“Really? No pants?”

“It’s too hot.” Otabek shrugged, reaching for a something offscreen and bringing a glass of water to his lips.

“Seriously? Isn’t it like, 19°C? Kinda pathetic. And that’s coming from a Moscow native.”

“It’s 36°C over here.” Otabek said flatly.

“Damn, your coach makes you practice in that heat?” Yuri asked incredulously.

“Nah. Training’s cancelled. He’s passed out in the porch.”

“Lucky bastard. Yakov’s been forcing me to train.” Yuri huffed.

“Watch your language, Yura. My family is in the vicinity.”

“I’m like 300 miles away they can’t hurt me.”

“My cousin will find you. You know what Aleks is like.”

“And I hope you boys are keeping it PG-13!” Came the call of cousin in the background, causing Otabek to flush slightly.

“ALEKS!”

“I’m just saying! Your mother wouldn’t be too happy if she saw you-”

“Aleks, sabırlılıqtı toqtatıñız Beka!” Came a call.

“Dude I can hear like, your entire family, where are you?”

“In my back yard.” He shrugged, switching the camera so Yuri could get a view of the lush, green garden, and the hammock Otabek was laying in.

“Its huge!” Yuri gasped. “Your family must be loaded!”

“My mother was an Olympic silver medalist. That kind of set us up for quite a while, then I started to send money home whenever I got it.” Otabek shrugged. “Joq, Natya, şlangini tömenge ornatıñız!”

Yuri heard giggling in the background, along with running water. Otabek shifted, the camera shaking a bit as he moved.

“My sister has a hose, I’m going inside.” He explained as a jet of water splashed behind him. “Nope nope nope nope. Not today.”

“Are you afraid of getting wet, Beka?”

“No I just don’t want to get- AH!”

“Are you okay?” Yuri asked, cocking an eyebrow at the maniacal cackling heard in the background.

“Yeah, my sister just got me in the ass while I was running inside.”

“Damn, good aim.”

“Yeah,” He said, camera shaking as he went up the stairs, opening the door to his room and pushing in. “Yura?”

“Still here.”

“I’m gonna need to change but I’m too lazy to disconnect the call, can I just put you against a pillow so you don’t see anything?”

“Sure.” Yuri shrugged, tossing his empty soda can into the trash.

The screen went a dark reddish-brown colour as it was pressed against the pillow, the camera suddenly flipping just as the screen went black.

Yuri could see Otabek pull away, turning around and pulling down the damp, dark grey boxers.

What the hell was Yuri supposed to do?!

The rational thing to would be to tell Otabek 'hey the camera accidentally flipped and I can see your ass and probably dick but I’m not sure’, but for some reason Yuri couldn’t speak.

Otabek turned in the direction of the camera, humming to himself as he stopped up the boxers and tossed them into the laundry hamper at the edge of his room, walking over to a chest of drawers and pulling out a pair of boxers.

Otabek quickly pulled the boxers on, rooting through the drawers and pulling out some shorts and a t-shirt, putting those on too.

He reached for the camera, which suddenly flipped back to front facing as it was being pulled away from the pillow.

“Sorry I took so long- Yura, are you okay?” Otabek asked, suddenly concerned.

“Y-yeah I’m fine. Why are you asking me?” Yuri stammered awkwardly.

“Your face, it’s all… red. Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah yeah I’m fine! I’m just a bit hot and sweaty from practice, I should probably shower.” Yuri said quickly.

“Okay…” Otabek murmured, unconvinced. “If you don’t feel better after the shower, call Viktor or Yuuri or someone like that. And make sure you drink a lot of water. And eat properly. None of that energy bar nonsense-”

“Okay mom, jeez. I’m fine, really.” Yuri said, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t get smart with me, young man.” Otabek said jokingly.

Yuri rolled his eyes, snorting.

“Bye Beka.”

“I’ll see you later, okay? I’ll call you later.”

“I really can’t stop you can I?”

“Nope.”

Yuri laughed, ending the call and flinging his phone onto the other end of the bed and pressing his hands into his face.

Otabek is hung like a fucking horse.

——-

I just winged it ok sorry

Things I love in TAZ fanart

- HUGE elf ears
- Taako’s fashion as either disastrous or masterful
- Magnus with spiky hair that goes everywhere
- flowers in Merle’s beard and little leaves on his wood arm
- Taako and Lup are either indistinguishable or only distinguishable by context clues
- literally anyone with freckles
- Killian Very Large and lifting her small but still dragonborn girlfriend Carey
- buck-toothed Taako
- Agno is a tiny tiny boy
- I’ve actually only seen this once but Kravitz with vitiligo to look like a skull on his face (I gotta find that post again)
- Julia just as big as Magnus and able to lift him effortlessly
- chubby Taako
- Magnus with a gap in his teeth/missing teeth
- Angus with braces
- Lucretia with her hair cut really short
- Lucretia with her hair down dON’T MAKE ME CHOOSE
- every single Noelle I’ve seen honestly

This is an incomplete list and feel free to add on if you want

d for "daniel" (daniel seavey)

Warnings: Nuh-uh.

A/N: this is super long! but i hope its worth the read:) it took me forever to write!! thanks to @seaveyslut for helping me again!

You roll your eyes after your best friend, Christina, asks you to go to her boyfriend’s concert with her. You’re sitting on the couch of your one bedroom apartment in Los Angeles, arguing with her for the past 20 minutes. 

“Oh, come on, Y/N! It’ll be fun!” She nags pleadingly for the billionth time. 

You look up at Christina, pausing Teen Wolf and giving her a glance of clear annoyance, “Fine, I’ll go with you. Just shut up about it, please.” 

Christina chuckles, “Yes, yes! Thank you. I love you. You won’t regret coming. The boys are so great!” She reaches over and gives you a bone-crushing hug. 

Boys? You had thought that the show was only Corbyn performing. You get up from the couch and head over to your kitchen. “What do you mean ‘boys’?” you say with furrowed brows, twisting open a bottle of water. 

“The boys. Why Don’t We?” She declares, expecting you to know whatever the hell she was talking about. 

After taking a long sip of water, you shake your head, confused, “Well? Finish your sentence. Why don’t we what?” 

“No, Y/N, that’s the name of their group. I thought I told you about this before?”

Having a little bit of an “aha” moment, you recall the time Christina was rambling on about Corbyn’s boy band. “I may not have been listening fully.” She looks at you with disbelief. “You were talking to me while I was binge watching Supernatural. I can’t believe you expect me to listen to what you’re saying when I’m watching one of the greatest shows that ever aired television.” 

“Oh my god, whatever. Change into something cute. Let’s go.” Christina demands as she crosses her arms over her chest. 


Being the girlfriend of one of the band members definitely had its perks. Christina was able to get the two of you into the venue an hour early to look around and find a spot. 

After wandering around the empty venue, you and Christina sit down on a couple of stools near the stage.

You both are on your phone, waiting for who knows what. It gets really quiet a few moments later, and you hear singing voices that are soothing, angelic even. The voices seem to be harmonizing perfectly.

“Christina.” You nudge your distracted best friend, “Christina!” 

Turning towards at you, she questions, “What? I’m listening!” 

“Do you hear that?” You look up to the ceiling, amazed. “Oh my god, I think God is calling out to me with his choir of angels.”

She begins laughing hysterically. She catches her breath and says, “Those aren’t angels, honey. They’re the boys rehearsing for the show.”

“You didn’t tell me that they were that good. Jeez, they sound like Justin Bieber and Shawn Mendes’s love children.” You announce in shock. 

Her mouth curved into a smile, “Please never call them that again!” She laughs at your poor choice of words. “Oh and Corbyn texted me a while ago. He said we can go backstage. They’re just hanging out there, so let’s go?”

“Okay, but I really have to pee; I’ve been holding it forever.” You glance up from your phone. Christina points to where the bathroom is, and you shuffle in that direction. 

After doing your business, you wash and dry your hands. Immediately after stepping out of the restroom, you slam headlong into an unlucky passerby. It had felt like you ran straight into a brick wall. You and the unfamiliar person both end up on the floor groaning.

Raising your hand to the point of contact on your head, you look up at the stranger, “Oh god. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking.” 

The slender boy in front of you stands up and offers you his hand. You grasp it as he helps you up. Noticing something, you take in his looks, noticing his bright blue eyes and his little tooth gap, a cute gap actually. It seems as if you’ve seen him somewhere, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. 

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “No, it’s fine. I was the one running at full speed towards the bathroom…” The boy glances at you with pleading eyes. “Are you okay?”

You let out a light chuckle, “I’m good honestly. Just a little lightheaded, but it’s nothing I won’t get over. Don’t worry.”

“My name’s Daniel.” His lips tug into a charming smile as he puts out his hand.

Shaking it, you tell him, “I’m Y/N.”

“So, uh, do you like Why Don’t We? I heard that they’re pretty great, like ‘the best boy band out there’ great,” Daniel chats.

Unsure of what to tell him, you confess, “Well, my best friend forced me to come today. I don’t think I’d know much about them if she didn’t make me go with her.”

“They’re gonna be so dope. Just wait. You’ll love them,” he says with a smug grin.

“Will I? I really hope you’re right. Wouldn’t want to waste a perfectly good night on a band I might not like.” You let out with a shrug.

Weirdly, Daniel looks a little hurt, “If you don’t like them, let me make it up to you. Give me your phone number.” He reaches out, and you pull your phone from your pocket. “I’m putting in my number. Call me after the show if you were disappointed. I’ll make it up to you with a fun night with D.”

You stare at him in amusement, “Oh my god. I don’t know if I want a ‘fun night with D.’ Sounds a little kinky if you ask me.”

“Oh! I- I meant a fun night with me, ‘D’ as in Daniel. I swear it sounded better in my head. I’m so sorry,” he turns as red as a tomato from embarrassment.

“No, it’s okay. I will definitely give you a call if I find that this band isn’t the ‘greatest out there.’” You chortle at him, entertained by his slight awkwardness.

Daniel smiles at you. As if he suddenly remembers something important, he lets in a small gasp, “Oh, shoot. I’ve got to go my friends are probably waiting for me. It was really nice meeting you. Hopefully next time we see each other we both don’t end up on the floor.”

“Yeah.” You grin, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Hopefully.”

He begins walking away, and you head into the direction you came from, towards Christina.

“Y/N, where the hell have you been?” She looks at you, worried and a bit angry. “Did you fall in the toilet or something?”

You wave her off as an attempt to calm her down, “I just had a little trouble at the bathroom.”

“Ew. Nevermind that. Let’s go!” Christina grabs onto your hand and pulls you toward the stage.

The both of you head over to what seems to be the band’s dressing room.

Christina gently knocks on the door as she pushes it open, “Hey, guys!”

“Christina!” Corbyn, Christina’s boyfriend, yells from the other side of the room. He quickly gets up and rushes over to her to give her a hug.

After their hug breaks, Corbyn looks over at you, “Oh hey, Y/N. Christina told me that she was trying to convince you to come. I can’t believe you actually went through with it. I’m glad.” His lips tug into a smile. “I wanna introduce you to the boys.”

Corbyn walks over to a couch with two boys occupying it. He points to one with curly, kind of noodle-like hair and another with rosy cheeks who looks a little too young to be touring the country, and says, “This is Jack and Zach. Jack, Zach, this is Y/N. She’s Christina’s best friend.”

Jack looks up from his phone and greets you, “Hey, Y/N. Nice to meet you. I’m the cool one of the band.” He smirks at you somewhat flirtatiously and winks.

“I’m Zach, and feel free to ignore him. Sometimes he pretends to speak French, when he only actually knows one sentence.” Zach gives Jack a joking side eye.

Laughing at their playfulness, you acknowledge multiple bags in the room filled with snacks: Gushers, Nutter Butters, dry roasted peanuts, Oreos, and even a few watermelons. “Okay, what the hell?” You stare at the boys in complete shock.

Simultaneously, the three of them say, “Our fans are great.”

Corbyn then starts walking over to the corner of the room where a tall, brown eyed boy stands. The boy informs you, “Hey. My name’s Jonah.” He gently wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you in for a hug.

You give him a small smile, “Y/N.”

Suddenly, a voice from what seems to be the bathroom speaks up, “You guys? There’s no more toilet paper. Can someone get me some?”

Jack groans in frustration, while Zach puts his head in his hands, embarrassed. Jonah walks over to the bathroom door, knocking on it. As the door slightly opens with a creak, a hand pops out, and Jonah gives the roll of toilet paper to the person behind the door.

After a little while, the restroom door opens once again, but instead of a hand, out comes a tall bo- 

 Oh my god. You laugh to yourself, cheeks turning red. Daniel! The boy that almost gave me a concussion. 

With your mouth hanging open, you realize that he’s the fifth member of Why Don’t We, and earlier he was definitely giving his band a little shoutout.

Yours and Daniel’s eyes lock, and Daniel suddenly looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Daniel, bro, you okay?” Corbyn puts his hand on Daniel’s shoulder.

As if he snaps out of a trance, Daniel shakes his head, turning his head to Corbyn, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Good, man, because there’s someone I want to introduce you to.” Corbyn gestures to you, “This is Y/N. She and Christina have been best friends for the longest time.”

You chuckle a little since both you and Daniel know that the two of you no longer need introductions. “We’ve actually met. Earlier we both ran into each other… quite literally.”

Daniel hangs his head low from embarrassment, and Christina speaks up from the other side of the room, “Oh! So that’s why you took so long at the bathroom!” She laughs hard after coming to that realization.


 To your surprise, the Why Don’t We show was actually really great. The boys have such an amazing stage presence, and they’re such angels to their fans. You definitely had to hand it to Daniel. If they weren’t the greatest band out there, the boys were certainly getting there.

Christina took you back to your apartment right after the show to avoid all the commotion with what she and the boys called “the afterparty” and “limelights.”

After getting settled in with Netflix and some popcorn, your phone begins to ring. You walk over to the counter to where you set it down last, and the screen reads, “Incoming Call from ‘Daniel (the boy that ran into you like a bull im sorry).’”

You laugh to yourself at the long name he decided to put as his contact, answering it, “I’m really digging the contact name. It’s a little lengthy for me, but it’ll have to do.” You smile.

“I’m glad you like it.” From the other end, Daniel lets out an exhausted sigh, “Judging by the fact that you didn’t call me to tell me that you had a terrible time and you want a refund, I’m assuming that you liked the show?”

“Oh, yeah. I liked it for sure. You guys are great. And why didn’t you just tell me that you were apart of the band instead of shamelessly self-promoting it?”

“Umm… Always plug?” He says.

You giggle at his response, “And about that ‘fun night with D,’ although I may have liked the show, I might like a day with you a lot better.”

As if you can see him smile through the phone, he beams, “I would love that. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 1pm?”

Tuck the World Away

Pairing: teenage!Sam x teenage!reader
Characters: Sam, the reader, mention of a few others 
Warnings: light swearing, some fluff, some angst, ya know a little bit of everything, no monsters au! 
Summary: An overview of (Y/N)’s relationship with Sam over the years 
A/N: Okay so I’m like really super proud of this one, idk why….so enjoy! Also I changed the tense for the first time so lmk how you like it! It was a little harder to write lol I kept finding myself saying “you” instead of “she” but whatever! Unbetad so all mistakes r mine:)

1990: Fourth grade

The elementary school’s doors seemed bigger and scarier than they every had before as (Y/N) walked in, clutching her mother’s hand tightly. She’d been there once before- to meet the principal and tour her new school- but it hadn’t seemed this terrifying back then.  

Her pigtails bounced up and down as she walked in, peering around nervously at the sea of new faces. They all seemed friendly enough, but a giggle or smile here and there wasn’t enough to make (Y/N) want to let go of her mom’s hand. 

The two of them walked to her classroom to greet (Y/N)’s new teacher. Mrs. Mayweather was a short, blonde haired woman with a kind face- dressed in a long floral dress that didn’t match the dreary weather outside. 

“Alright sweetie, I have to go to work,” Mary (Y/L/N) squeezed her daughter’s hand once before turning to walk back down the hall, “Have fun at your first day of fourth grade!” 

For a minute, (Y/N) didn’t know what to do with herself. Standing there awkwardly in front of the class, she felt completely out of place. Her pink shirt was too bright, her hair was too curly, and nobody else was wearing power rangers light up shoes. 

“Everyone, this is (Y/N).” Mrs. Mayweather chirped,“She’s new this year from California, everybody say hello! You’ll be sitting in the back row, Honey, the open seat just there.” 

Hi (Y/N), the class chorused, turning their heads to look at her and smiling. 

She gave a halfhearted nod at the rest of the kids, shuffling awkwardly to find her seat next to a brown haired boy in a striped shirt. “Hi, my name’s Sam. Wanna be friends?” He said almost instantly after she sat down, smiling big and bright and gap toothed. 

“I’m (Y/N), and, um, sure” She replied with a little grin. 

And even though she wasn’t showing it, (Y/N) was ecstatic to have made her very first friend in New York. 

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Late Nights

Summary: Every night since you were a little girl, Peter Pan has come to visit you at your window, telling you stories of Neverland and his daring adventures

You run towards the window, blanket trailing behind your tottering body like a cape. Your steps quiet and your excitement muffled so your parents wouldn’t hear you. When you arrived at the window sill, you opened the panes and sat down cross legged. The moonlight shone brightly against the navy sky and golden stars. Peter arrived while you were distracted, and hid out of your view. But little you was smart, peeking around the corner of the window. You smiled at the boy, because he was your best friend. 

“Peter!” You whispered softly, “Look, I lost a tooth. Mommy put it under the pillow last night, and this morning, there was money!” You giggled, making a silly face at Peter in hopes to show in the gap where the tooth had previously lived. A smile lit up across  his face as he picked you up and placed you safely under the covers. 

“Listen little one, it is getting to late for you to be up, even though you’re turning 7 tomorrow. How about before I go, I tell you a new story?” You nodded furiously, wrapping yourself in your pink quilt and grabbing your trusted unicorn, Mr. Fluffy. As you settled into to bed and listened intently to Peter’s tale of heroics, you felt your eyes start to droop. Peter looked down at you and smiled, kissing your dainty forehead.

“Goodnight, little (y/n). Sweet dreams.”

—————————————————————————————————-

It had been eight years, and still, Peter visited you any night he could. As you got older, he came less and less frequently. He knew you were growing up, and he believed that once you were old enough, you would leave and go to Neverland with him. But, as you grew older, you were less and less interested in his stories. Yet, any night he could, he would still come visit you. Most nights he would watch you do your homework or get ready for bed. But this night was different. Peter had arrived later than usual, and when the amber haired boy arrived, he seemed winded and excited. He grabbed you by the waist and spun you around. 

“Peter, what has gotten into you? I’m trying to do my English homework.” You growled playfully. Climbing back into your bed, you covered yourself with your pink quilt. The night was brisk, and with the window still open, you were struggling to keep warm. Peter paced around the room, but he didn’t seem angry or worried. You knew he was anxious, because his face was squinched into itself, his lips formed into a gentle smile.

“Ok…….so ummm….I don’t know how to say this but….the boys need a mother and I have told them about you and they want you to be their mother!” Peter beamed at his announcement, waiting for your response. Wrapping your quilt around your body, you get up from your bed and walked towards Peter.

“I don’t now what to say, Peter.”

“Then say you’ll leave. With me.”

Let Our Powers Combine!

This Trollhunter!Strickler fic series thing is inspired by @changepherrox‘s art and written scenario of Walter meeting Barbara, pre-show, and becoming part of the Lake family. After finding his place in the human world, he comes upon the Trollhunter amulet and struggles between protecting his family, being a double agent… and secretly defending a Trollmarket that doesn’t particularly want a changeling for a Trollhunter.

-The First (along with @changepherrox’s art that inspired it)
-A Brief Recapitulation of Troll-Changeling Friendships

In this fic: Jim and Walter have a superhero catchphrase that they say when they team up.


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Short Story: Nick’s Day Out


It was her birthday.

Funny how he could never remember much else about her, but he remembered her birthday. It wasn’t like Nick, either, to remember a date more than a face. Old Nick prided himself on being able to read people, to pick up on the social nuances and micro expressions that gave so much away. Now, an appointment, an anniversary - those always slipped his mind. But he never forgot a face.

Except hers.

The synth clutched his bag of caps, the fabric threatening to tear beneath the harsh metal of his claw. Normally, he didn’t mind haggling. Myrna gave him a hard time, but the other merchants were friendly enough, and it was nice to get out and about in between cases.

Today, though. Today they’d ask questions he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer.

Gotta hold it together, old man.

The detective clenched what counted for his jaw and shuffled into the marketplace, hands stuffed in the pockets of his trenchcoat, hat pulled low over his brow. Myrna looked up with a menacing glower. 

“Bouquet, please,” he murmured.

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Maybe it’s a bad idea. Maybe…

“Cas!”

Castiel whirls around, hands quickly hiding the construction paper valentine behind his back. It’s large and kind of lopsided, but his Gabriel said it was just perfect: green like Dean’s eyes, big like his heart.

…It’s even got that one mistake that resembles the hole where his friend’s front teeth should be.

“Cas, here, I got something for you!”

Dean practically jumps up and down in his excitement, gap-toothed grin widening as he reveals, with a flourish, what is behind his back. “See?!” he exclaims. “It’s for today! For Valentime’s!”

In his little fingers, Dean holds a red rose.

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Klaine one-shot - “The Gourd You Give” (Rated PG)

It’s just another day at work for Kurt when a handsome man bursts through the door and begs Kurt for a pumpkin. (1577 words)

A/N: This is a re-write. Warning for mention of illness. Meet cute.

Read on AO3.

“Help me! Quick! I need a pumpkin!”

The words fire out so quickly from the man’s mouth that his request is finished before the bells over the door stop jingling. Kurt looks up from the issue of Vogue open on the counter he’s sitting behind and straight into the eyes of the most desperate man he’s ever seen – harried for certain, curls that have been gelled down within an inch of their life breaking free around his hairline, hazel eyes shimmering from the cold, his cheeks flushed from running (Kurt assumes, since he’s panting like a tired dog). Plus, the door has a brand new dent from where the man slammed into it before he realized it was a pull door and not a push.

“Uh … okay.” Kurt puts a worn business card into the binding of his magazine to mark his spot, then closes it to handle his manic customer. “You do realize you’ve just entered a costume shop, though. Not a supermarket.”

“I know.” The man nods vigorously, taking a deep breath. “I need a pumpkin costume.”

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melted

Originally posted by chattyang

paring: Yugyeom x Reader
genre: fluff
word count: 1.3k

You didn’t think it was possible to be so utterly in love with someone, but looking across the small table you knew it was.

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anonymous asked:

FIGHT ME YOU ATTRACTIVE STRANGER.

171. 

“Fight me, you attractive stranger!”

“Steve?” Bucky says, a little hopelessly; his partner’s over by the bar, notebook flipped open and completely disregarded as he blushes at the bartender with the gorgeous gap-toothed smile. 

The guy swaying a little in front of him has a pretty great grin himself. He’s got a black eye coming up, sticking plaster across the bridge of his nose, and his fists are raised and loosely clenched. He kinda looks like he could take Bucky, which is rare, but only if someone drip-fed him caffeine first. 

“Sir,” Bucky says, which never comes out sounding as genuine as Stevie manages, “I think you need to sit down.” 

“Make me,” he says, and grins again, beckoning like he’s in the damn Matrix. A woman in a nearby booth kicks her heels off the table and gets smoothly to her feet, coming over to push the guy’s fists down and scrubbing a hand affectionately through his hair. Bucky scowls at her. 

“Being arrested after a bar fight will go down no better than the real story,” she tells him. “Besides which, you suck at lying.” 

“Fuck you I’m great at everything,” he says, and then giggles a little, staggering sideways to lean - annoyingly attractively, considering the state of him - against the corner of the booth. 

“You are great at one thing, Clint,” the woman says. “Perhaps two, on a good day.” 

“I’m amazing,” he protests. “It’s right there in the name.”

“The amazing Clint?” Bucky asks, arching a sceptical eyebrow. 

“The amazing Hawkguy.” Clint says, then frowns. “No, wait. Eye.” 

“You?”

“Me,” Clint says. It’s a little easier to mistake him for sober, leaning the way he is, stable against the wall of the booth and giving Bucky a lingering look. He’s got a surprisingly sharp look, for someone who can barely stand up straight. “I’d like to report a crime, officer.” 

“Yeah?”

“You’ve stolen my -” 

He’s cut off by his friend smacking the back of his head, and she rolls her eyes at Bucky. 

“That is not one of the two things,” she says. “Now come, Clint. Let’s go tell Katie-Kate about the kitten -”

“I rescued,” Clint says, eyes flicking to Bucky, a pleading kinda look on his face. 

“ - that chased you out of a tree.” 

Bucky snorts, mouth curving up in a smile, and Clint - who’d been almost steady for a moment there - walks into a chair. 

“Aaw, chair,” he says, and looks so endearingly betrayed that Bucky scribbles something down, tears the page out of his notebook. He hands it to Clint’s friend, as the safer - or at least, more sober - option. 

“In case he wants to press charges,” he says, feeling his cheeks flushing under her amused regard. “For the theft.” 

Pom Pom

Anon asked: RICHJAKE FLUFFY FLOOF FLUFFISHLY FLUFY LIKE A FLOOFY DOGGO

Anon asked: Rich ‘n Jake being cuties because fluff

Anon asked: Richjake f l u f f

Idk what it is but something tells me you guys want richjake fluff so here goes nothing

When Jake woke up a few years ago on Halloween in the hospital he was almost certain his friendship with Rich was going to be a full stop. Words couldn’t describe how pissed off Jake really was when he figured out what happened. Who could blame him? He spent his first few days in the hospital mentally venting out his anger to Rich. He planned all the things he’d say, the grandest most emotional fuck you he’d ever come up with.

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followingyoucuseyoureawesome  asked:

How would Sidon feel about his s/o who HATES their smile and whenever they laugh or grin they cover it with their hands? (My brother keeps pointing out I have a "horse mouth" cuse my gums show when i smile ;o;) Love the blog btw! <3

(*gasp* That’s so rude! ヽ(`д´;)/ If you need me to come beat him up I’ve got you friend regardless of my noodle arms! Allow me to provide a happy dose of Sidon for your recovery~ Also first try with no read more let’s see how it goes~ Enjoy!~)


S/o that hates their smile:

  • Picks up on it rather quickly

- It’s not an immediate epiphany the first few times he didn’t think anything of it but as he noticed you doing it more and more he realized that you had been hiding every time you laughed

-  Turning your head away so no one could see your face, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress your laughter, wrapping your lips around your teeth so they never show, covering your mouth with your hand or a piece of cloth 

- Doing everything you physically can to restrain yourself

- When Sidon realizes that you have been restraining yourself he’d quickly confront you about it though he will try to be as respectful to you as possible because he can tell this is likely a sensitive subject

- He has dozens of questions but he will not hound you about it and make you uncomfortable


  • Confused and a little sad

- SIdon is absolutely flabbergasted that anyone could possibly hate their smile especially not his sweet pearl when you finally explain to him why you’re always hiding it

- The Zora Prince is all about making people happy so smiles are important to him because they are evidence that he’s doing a good job

- It’s so sad to him that you don’t feel comfortable showing off something that is supposed to embody all of your happiness

- He would try to calm all of your worries and reassure you that he could never think any less of you

- He doesn’t care if your teeth are a little crooked, or you have a gap, or there’s a chip in your tooth, or your siblings always teased you about how they looked, or whatever it is that stops you from letting it show

- Sidon just wants to be able to see how happy he can make you, and how beautiful he knows you’ll look with it


  • Engage Operation: “Make You Smile Every Chance He Gets Because He Loves You So Much And He Wants You To Conquer Your Insecurities And Smile Whenever You Want”

- Sidon will do absolutely anything to make you laugh or smile using all of his free time just so he can catch a glimpse of that lovely look on your face

- He won’t press too hard, he would never want to force you to smile just because he wants to see it. Teasing you and playing around with you to give you the opportunity however is a different thing

- If you still will not put your hand down or stop muffling yourself he won’t call you out on it; it is your choice whether you want to show it or not, he will continue to joke with you or even launch surprise kisses or tickle attacks (beware of claws)

- He wants to see every part of you because you’re so precious to him but it is always going to be your choice

- The first time that he gets to hear your laugh, like really hear it without it being muffled or held back in any way he is ecstatic. He will stare at you with the widest grin his was tail wagging back and forth as he wraps his arms around you and gushes about how absolutely lovely you sound (what a sap)

- Sidon wants to see you happy above everything else, your smile isn’t beautiful to him because all your teeth are straight

- It’s beautiful because it’s your smile, and his little minnow’s smile is sweeter than any body else’s

Sound of Music AU: Adventures in Play Clothes

Huzzah! More Sound of Music!
You can previous installments here.


It was absolutely beautiful summer day and I made the executive decision to cancel all indoor activities the children had. We packed a picnic lunch and all eight of us tramped around the grounds of Lallybroch until it grew quite late.

Sitting with my back against the stone wall of an old building, I basked in the sun like a lizard. The structure was a mill at one point, the children told me, but was long since retired. It had a small pond that was fed by a stream with giant trees shading it.

“Mistress Claire?” Jenny’s sleepy voice came from the grass beside me.

“Mmhmm?”

“Can we do this every day?” She turned her head to the side to face me, one eye cracking open as she grinned.

I laughed. “Don’t you think it’d get old after awhile?”

Sighing, she contemplated the idea, then suggested, “Every other day?”

A cheer rose up from Brian in the tree beside me. Willie had reached the highest, reliable branch in his tree and that apparently made his younger brother the winner by default. Little Maggie boasted not one, but two flower crowns and Jenny had plaited everyone’s hair with remarkable skill. Ellen had devoured an entire book this afternoon and had a good start on a second. Joan had a remarkable bouquet going, of which I was proud guardian while she found other blooms to add to it. Marsali taken roost beside me and pulled out her sketchbook to capture the intricacies of each bloom.

I wondered at the last time they were able to have fun and be children. How long ago had it been? Not laughed at a practical joke done to a caregiver or staff, but truly had fun. My heart ached to think that it had been months, if not years.

They were such wonderful children. So inquisitive and adventurous when given the opportunity to do as they please. I had watched the older children help the younger ones on numerous occasions just this morning alone. How could they play such awful tricks on people when I knew they had such kind hearts?

“What are you thinking about?” Marsali asked.

I chuckled to myself. You know your face is an open book, Beauchamp.

“I was just wondering why you play practical jokes on your nannies.”

Ellen lowered her book and raised her eyebrows, “How else would we get Father’s attention?”

Ah, yes. The age old “negative attention is better than no attention at all.” I suppose I would have done the same in their shoes. Brushing off the notion, I set the posy of wildflowers beside Marsali and picked up my guitar.

“What are we going to do now?” Brian eagerly inquired as he wandered over, having descended from adventure in the skies.

“We’re going to figure out a song for you to sing for Lady Geneva when she comes.” Had I not looked up from my instrument to answer him, I would have missed the almost telepathic messages of panic passed between the children. All of them looked completely petrified at the notion.

Jenny was the first to speak, “We don’t know how to sing, Mistress Claire.”

“Of course you do!” I waved them off, thinking them merely humble. “Everyone knows how to sing.”

“Except us.” Willie commented dryly.

I stared at them, turning from one face to the next. “You really don’t know how to sing?”

Maggie had plopped down in front of me and shook her head sadly. “No, Mistress Claire.”

I smiled down at her, knowing with all my heart that I was were I was supposed to me. “Well, then. I’ll just have to teach you.”

The sun was beginning to set as we made our way back to the house. Our shadows were long and distorted, causing no small amount of laughter. We were worn out and more than slightly muddy. I pulled a piece of clover from the shoulder of Joan’s blouse and wondered absently if the rest of them sported the layer of debris that she did. She had by far been the tamest of the pack, but even Joan was dirty from head to toe.

Sounds of crunching gravel and a motor signaled a car coming up behind us. Without needing instruction, the children immediately moved to the side of the road and turned to look at the approaching vehicle.

Jenny commented as it came into sight, “I think that’s Father.”

“No, it isn’t,” Brian argued. “He won’t be back for days.”

“But doesn’t it look like Old Alec is driving?” Willie asked of his siblings at large. They each had an opinion, but all waved just in case it was indeed their father as the vehicle passed. The windows were darkly tinted, obscuring our view. This only lead to more speculation as we continued our walk.

“It was Father!” Marsali shouted as we entered the dooryard.

The children surrounded him en mass with choruses of welcome and delight.

Grinning, I turned to the slender brunette standing beside the car. “You must be Lady Dunsany. I’m Claire Beauchamp, the nanny.”

Her gray eyes were filled with humor as she greeted me with formal civility. I had the impression it was all she could do not to laugh outright and wondered what she thought of Captain Fraser’s noisy brood. What he himself thought of them was evident as he blew a sharp, shrill blast on his whistle.

Their reaction was immediate. Spinning on their heels, they turned a complete about face and were in line in seconds. Brian and Marsali were having trouble containing their mirth, but as a whole they were right back to the orderly bunch I had met a few days before… save the mud.

The Captain walked up and down the line, ensuring order was at hand before speaking. “Children, this is Lady Dunsany…” He turned away from them with a pained expression and faced us. “…and these are my children.”

Lady Geneva schooled her features, nodding to them with a murmured, “How do you do?”

Captain Fraser snapped back around, dismissing the children with a command to go get cleaned up. I started to move with them, but was forced to stop as I found a fuming Scot standing in my way.

“I think I’d better go see what Ian is up to,” the Lady Geneva commented uneasily as she left us and walked into the house.

Now that we no longer had an audience, the Captain made no effort to hide his displeasure. Anger, was really more like it. “My children have proper clothing, Nurse. I would ask that they wear them.”

“Not for playing in, they don’t.” I retorted, ready for battle. These children were worth fighting for.

“An’ just where did ye find these…”

“Play clothes,” I supplied.

His brows rose, “Is tha’ what ye call them?”

“It is. I made them from the drapes in my room since they didn’t —”

“Drapes?!” He exploded. “Dinna tell me my children have been wandering about the countryside dressed in drapes!”

I smiled at the remembrance of little Maggie’s laughter as Willie swung her thru the air. “Umhmm, and having a marvelous time.”

“They have uniforms!”

“Straitjackets, if you ask me.” I muttered under my breath.

“I dinna ask ye!”

Well, too bad, because you’re going to hear it anyway.

“They can’t play if they have to worry about spoiling their precious clothes all the ti–”

“I havena heard them complain.” He interrupted, his jaw set firmly.

“They wouldn’t dare!” I exploded. “They love you too much! They’re afraid of you too!”

“I willna allow ye to speak of my children in this manner, Mistress Beauchamp,” the Captain’s blue eyes flashed.

“Well, you’ve got to hear it from someone!” I took a step forward, meeting him toe to toe. “You’re never home long enough to get to know them! Take Ellen, for instance. She isn’t a child anymore! One of these days you’re going to wake up and find she’s grown into a woman. You won’t even know her!”

His face was becoming rather red, but I took little heed. He needed to hear this whether he liked it or not. 

“I said, I willna—”

“And what about William? He’s still a boy, but he wants so badly to be a man like you!”

He grabbed hold of my shoulders, his nose inches from mine. “Don’t ye dare speak of my son like–”

“Marsali could tell you about him,” my chin rose in defiance as I all but shouted up at him, “She notices everything! And Jenny, and Brian, and–”

“They are my children an’–”

“I’m not finished yet, Captain!” I shouted.

“Aye, ye are, Captain!” He responded in kind.

I blinked, completely taken aback.

“Nurse Beauchamp, I mean.” He took a step away from me, dropping his hands as he gained control over his voice. “Your services are no longer necess–”

The chorus of the song I had taught the children wafted thru the open window of the parlor. A hesitant chord was strummed as well and the sound sent a shock-wave thru the Captain. He tensed, turning towards it.

When he looked back to me a phrase or two later, his face was completely changed. He stood before me, but it was obvious his mind was far afield. “What is tha’?” He asked.

“It’s singing,” I answered, my heart aching for the children whose voices were entwined in harmony.

“Aye, I ken,” he shook his head, almost as if he was trying to dispel the vapors of the past. “But who?”

“Your children.”

His brows skyrocketed in the same gesture Ellen had used this very afternoon, “My children?”

I didn’t answer, but watched in silence as he slowly moved towards the open door. I followed once he was inside, standing in the shadows of the entry way and marveling at the scene before me.

The Captain stood at the center of the room with his children surrounding him on all sides. Little Maggie was in Willie’s arms and she reached instinctively for her father. My breath caught in my throat as he picked her up and held her close. He patted Joan on the head tenderly as she beamed up at him with her gap-toothed smile. Marsali bent and whispered something in her ear, prompting Joan to move towards Lady Dunsany with a small posy of her wildflowers outstretched in one hand.

“For me?” Lady Geneva smiled warmly at Joan, then looked to her father. “James, you never told me how wonderful your children are!’

James. Captain Fraser had a name after all. It suited him, I thought.

He turned his gaze to the door and I knew he had saw me. Drat. I quickly moved towards the stairs. He had just fired me, after all, and here I stood infringing on their intimate family moment.

“Nurse…” His voice stopped me just as my foot reached the bottom step. He crossed the hallway quickly and continued. “I, ah, shouldna have acted in such a manner towards ye. I apologize.”

I shook my head, “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m far too outspoken for my own good.”

He dropped his eyes as well as his voice, “Ye were right in yer words. I dinna ken my own children.”

“It’s not too late to get to know them, Captain. They desperately want to know you.” I said gently as I made my way up the stairs.

“Wait,” he bounded around the banister and stood a step below me, our eyes meeting as our difference in height vanished. “I want ye to stay.”

My surprise must have shown for he smiled at me rather meekly, adding, “I ask ye to stay, tha’ is.”

“If you really want me to,” I commented, more than a little unsure.

He nodded, “I do, I couldna find a better nanny.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“I am. Ye’ve brought music back into the house, I’d forgotten,” he said in all seriousness, then broke out into a wide smile. “Besides, I dinna think the agency would send me another nanny wi’ my track record.”

As much as I’m super glad Josh Gad is getting less type-cast roles nowadays, I think film companies need to realise he is literally the quintessential action hero. Observe:

•an asshole, but a really loveable, down-to-earth, kind-of-putting-it-on asshole.

•well groomed but still a little rugged (tooth gap, vaguely clean-shaven).

•looks very pretty in a suit. Could definitely make Random Secret Agent fall for him.

•sturdy and well-built for a fist fight.

•in good shape (don’t have a clue what his definition of ‘good shape’ is but he’s wrong).

•when asked to assume a temporary identity *whips out 8th grade Spanish*

•a real fucking go-getter. Not only would he be up for the role but this would show in his character.

Plus, comedy action movies? The best. Thank you for listening to my legitimate argument.

vicioushyperbolizer  asked:

How about 15 for the kiss prompts?

[ A kiss because I have literally been watching you all night and I can’t take anymore]

187. 

It feels kinda impossible that no one can see him, not with the way the ballroom’s bright light is bleeding out into the darkness, and there’s a weird sort of power in the confidence that he’s invisible. He’d think it was a holdover from the Soldier, but there’s a reason he became a sniper, and the shadowed balcony suits him better than the bustle inside. 

He leans his elbows back against the balustrade and watches the world through glass panes. It’s a riot of tuxes and evening gowns, a whirl of color where there’s dancers, and he seeks them out without thinking. A flash of red hair and a form-fitting black dress, slit up to the thigh so it doesn’t restrict an inch of movement. Natalia’s dancing with Wilson, and he’s wise enough to look a little dazed with it, gap-toothed grin wide as his wingspan. 

Steve’s nearby, every inch the upright soldier, looking just about perfect in his tailored tux. He’s bending to listen to some old girl in swoops of pearls, and the look on her face says she’s gonna pinch his ass in less than a minute. The look on Tony’s face tells Bucky he’s the one that suggested it. He’s wearing a tux too, perfectly proper, but his sneakers are red with detailing in gold, and he’s got a stupid pair of red specs like that mutant with the stick up his ass. He’s grinning into a glass of champagne, making eye contact with the little witch, who’s dressed in emerald green and surrounded by admirers. 

Usually Barton’d be there by her side, acting the older brother with folded arms and a heavy scowl, but instead he’s found - somewhere - the only kids at the party. He’s surrounded in a corner, showing them how to fold cocktail napkins into perfect paper darts, and Bucky’s been resisting looking at him enough all evening to finally give way and indulge himself now. 

Clint doesn’t suit a tux. It’s tailored to perfection, ‘cos Tony wouldn’t allow for anything less, but he’s discarded the jacket somewhere and his tie’s all pulled to one side. Even as Bucky’s watching he fumbles out of his cuff-links, puts them down unregarded on a side table and rolls up his sleeves. Strong tanned forearms that make Bucky’s mouth go dry, and his cummerbund pressing against a body hard with muscle, and unintentionally tousled hair pushed every which way. It’s like Bucky’s own particular hell, one he’s halfway grateful to suffer in, ‘cos Clint is pulling off his bow-tie now and the line of his throat is good intentions all the way down. 

Bucky scrubs a hand over his face, and when he looks up Clint’s sharp eyes have caught his. He has no idea what Clint sees on his face, but his mouth curls up into a sideways sort of smile and he says something to the kids, sending them scrambling with a salute, before heading right for the balcony and slipping outside. 

“Been looking for you,” he says, coming to lean beside Bucky, who snorts out a laugh. 

“Bullshit.” 

Clint laughs softly, warm in the darkness, and rocks into his side. 

“Always looking for you,” he says. “Can’t help it, when you’re the prettiest thing in the room.” 

Bucky snorts again, but it doesn’t stop a stupid schoolboy flush from climbing into his cheeks. 

“You always this smooth, Barton?” 

“Never,” he says, “not ever, not with anyone but you,” and that’s about all Bucky can take. 

He pushes away from the balcony wall and grabs Clint by the hand, spinning him around until he’s pressed by the wall to the side of the door, tucked into the safest place Bucky knows right now. Bucky hunches his shoulders, protective, and brings his hands up to thread into Clint’s messed-up hair, staring into his eyes for a second before dropping them to his lips. Clint’s tongue slides out, pink and wet, and Bucky groans before leaning forward to taste it, to taste him, to do his best to make up for the words that he lost somewhere along the way. 

boomerang // Jonah [c]

part c

(2,088 words)

{ part a ~ part b }

(a/n): a HUGE thank you to @yep-thisisme for helping me out big time, I love you Pebbles <3 and excuse me for making this so long lol it’s like a thousand words longer than part b oml no chill... anyways, hope you like it! (:


“This is Daniel, the most talented guy you’ll ever meet.” Jack points to a boy sitting on the couch of their home with bright blue eyes and a cute tooth gap. He smiles and waves at me. I wave back.

“This is my little bean, Zachary,” He continues on, shaking out Zach’s hair.

“Hey, this ‘little bean’ is 16 years of age, ya know!” Zach rolls his eyes as he smacks Jack’s arm away from his head.

“Still 2 years younger than me so shut up, Dean,” Jack laughs and motions towards another boy that has bleached hair and pretty gray eyes, “This is Corbyn, or Meme King.”

Suddenly, Corbyn looks up from his laptop and shoots a sly smile as he pulls out some kid-sized glasses and slaps them onto his face crookedly, “Yesshh,”

I laugh and wave at Corbyn.

“And this here is my boy, Jonah.” Jack says. I look away from Corbyn’s funny face and as soon as my eyes hit Jonah, I can’t stop staring. Jonah looks up from his guitar and his eyes widen. For a few seconds, we stay gazing at each other while Jack looks back and forth between us, confused.

“Hello,” I shake my head, pushing away the trance I was in, “I’m (y/n).”

“I’m…” Jonah mumbled, still staring at me, jaw hanging, “Uh… I’m J-jjjjjjj,”

“You good, Jonah?” Daniel laughed from the other couch.

“I’m- ye- yeah.” He smiles, “I’m Jonah.”

“Nice to meet you- all.” I grin shyly and turn to them, “I didn’t even know you guys were a band until Jack told me a few days ago.”

“He’s talked about you a lot, (y/n), about how you’re really chill and funny,” Zach smiles from his seat next to Daniel, “We said, let’s invite her over and see for ourselves.”

“Well, here I am.” I laugh.

“What would you like to do?”

“Anything you all would like to do, I’m down for whatever.” I smile.

“I have first say!” Zach stands up before anyone and approaches me but then Jonah stands up and takes my hand, instantly flattering me.

“Nuh, uh.” Jonah smiles and my heart melts, “Oldest calls the shots.”

“Ah- DANG IT!” Zach stomps his foot, seemingly upset that he wasn’t able to meet up with me first, which is sweet although I didn’t even think of trying it out with Zach. Jonah was the only thing on my mind.

“Would you like to hang out?” Jonah whispers, biting his lip nervously.

“Sure,” I laugh.

“On one condition:” Daniel stands up and pushes Jonah away jokingly, “We get to spend the day with (y/n) and get to know her well, and you can spend the night with her.”

I giggle, “That’s a perfect idea.”

Jonah’s cute eyebrows furrow together and he rolls his eyes, “Ugh, fine. This day better go by fast…”

I hide a smile behind my hand as Jack links my arm with his and pulls me outside, “Let me show you around the house.”

Quickly, I glance back to Jonah and see him smirking, his arms crossed as he shakes his head impatient for the nighttime. I smile and give him a look that tells him the feeling is mutual.

After hours of dancing around to music, playing hide-and-go-seek like 7-year-olds, and talking - lots of it, the sun sets on the beautiful city of Los Angeles and it’s time for me to say goodbye to the boys and hello to Jonah.

I walk back into the home and see that Jonah is standing in the middle of the living room with a bouquet of beautiful scarlet roses. When he realizes that I’ve entered the room, he straightens up, standing taller than he already was, and displays his best smile for me.

“These are for you.” He says, pushing the flowers towards my face awkwardly and I hear muffled snickers behind me, coming from the boys.

“They’re lovely.” I smile and grab them. He smiles and lets out a little sigh that I can barely hear.

“Would you like to go to the park?” Jonah suggests with a grin on his handsome face.

“Of course.” I turn around to the boys and wave before walking out of the house with Jonah by my side.

We talk and talk until the moon is at it’s high and we realize it’s very late - 12:28 am, to be exact. We rush to the car and I give him the directions to my house. Although he was a terrific driver, he kept missing the streets I would tell him to take… gosh, we had been so sleep deprived. When I finally got home, Jonah escorted me to my door. He told me he would love to spend another night with me again. I nod and I’m about to say goodbye, but he stops and stares.

“What?” I laugh.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says, jaw lowered and eyes glued to mine.

“Thank you, Jonah.” I smile but it’s not enough of me for Jonah, I thought, since he leaned in very closely, his nose brushing mine.

“You are the most beautiful human being I have ever seen, (y/n).” He says. The air in my lungs is taken away and I blush heavily. I feel Jonah’s breath against my skin and a chill dribbles up my spine.

“Jonah,”

“Can we please see each other again… I mean, I know I sound like a creep right now, but I promise I’m not.” He pleads, grinning. His crystal blue eyes stare into my eyes and I suddenly feel a pop in my heart.

I place my hand on the back of his head and pull his face to mine. Our lips touch and the connection is automatic.

My description of the night ends and Jack is watching me carefully in the driver’s seat.

“Wow, you remember it that clearly, huh?” Jack rubs my arm.

“Yep…” I sigh, “I just wish it were like that once again.”

“Tell you what… We’ll go to the emergency room and get you all healed up, then we can take you back to the house. We can take this slow and easy so you won’t get hurt anymore, darling.”

“Okay,” I mumble hesitantly.

“Atta girl,” Jack encourages, “You’ll be fixed up in no time, love.”

~

We pull up to the house and pain strikes my throat. It’s hard for me to breathe for a few seconds but I regain my cool and calm myself before another panic attack can settle in my brain.

I walked into the dark house with only one light from the kitchen illuminating the area. I held Jack’s hand for support, mental and physical since the stitches were still very tender. Suddenly, a tall figure walked to the living room and turned to Jack and I. “Oh my God, (y/n), is that you?”  He looked at me with desperate eyes that I knew cared about me, but I didn’t want to admit it.

“Jonah, don’t get near her right now,” Jack pushed me behind him and I watched Jonah carefully over Jack’s short shoulder. “She needs some space.”

“Who are you to say that about my girlfriend?” Jonah shoots back, still wanting me to be in his arms again, but a fire ignites in me. I press my chest against Jack’s shoulder so I won’t accidentally run to Jonah and smack him silly.

“I’m her best friend, excuse me!” Jack shouts and I see Zach out of the corner of my eye, scared and confused, his eyes red from crying. My heart sinks when I see a dark spot on the side of his eye.

As Jonah and Jack continue arguing, I subtly grab Zach’s attention and open my arms. He checks and makes sure that they aren’t looking, then he runs to me and hugs me hard.

“Are you okay?” He asks shakily against my cheek.

“Yes, I’m okay. What happened when I left?” I ask.

“Jonah got really, really mad and he threw a fit. He was breaking stuff and was screaming and Daniel and I were trying to stop him, but I got in the way. He hit me.” Zach whispers.

I can’t breathe, “Is that the bruise that’s on your face?”

He pulls away and nods, tears flowing down his red cheeks.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” I pull him in for another hug, but it doesn’t last long. I look up and see Jack swinging at Jonah.

Jack grabs Jonah’s silky brown locks and pulls sharply towards the ground.

“NO!” I scream as I try to run towards the two loves of my life, but two arms wrapped around my torso stop me from going any further than a few steps, “Zach! What are you doing?!”

I turn my head to the 16-year-old boy behind me who suddenly got extremely strong, “Corbyn, Daniel!” Zach ignores my screaming and calls the other boys. Daniel runs in with very alert, bright blue eyes. He finds Jack and Jonah fighting then pushes them apart as Corbyn also shows up, splitting the battle. Daniel throws Jack to the ground with the force of his shove as Jonah is pinned to the side of the staircase by Corbyn. “What the heck? What’s wrong with you, Jack?!”

“I didn’t- I wanted to- I just didn’t want J-Jonah saying stuff to (y/n). She’s my…” Jack says but his voice fades away and his eyes open wide. Daniel still holds Jack to the ground, his forearm on Jack’s heaving chest.

“Your what, Jack?” Jonah spits from the other side of the room, “What is she really to you?”

I look over to Jonah, his face red with anger, “He’s my best friend.”

“Are you completely sure about that?” Jonah glares at Jack, his words still directed at me, “Because it seems like you love Jack more than me.”

I turn to Jack, his freckled face covered in red scratches. His big brown eyes are so full of question and hurt, I want to look away but I don’t. Without breaking eye contact, I walk towards the middle of the room, Jack and Daniel to my right, Jonah and Corbyn to my left and Zach in front of me, his face showing his downright confusion.

“(y/n), it’s simple. Do you love Jack more than me?” Turning to Jonah, my eyes water and everything becomes fuzzy. Jonah’s lips, in which I would kiss over and over, hours on end, never getting tired of the sweet taste it would leave, are split open with warm drops of blood decorating the wounds. I think about the amazing nights we would spend together, when we would go star gazing or out to eat ice cream. All the memories I had made with Jonah were beautifully vivid - but he hurt me, although it was an accident, it scarred me deeply. And Jack, oh wonderful Jack, was there to protect me when I truly needed it. I knew he loved me as a best friend. Maybe even more than that, but I was in love with Jonah and I wanted to commit to that.  

If I chose Jonah, Jack would be hurt forever and if I chose Jack, Jonah would be hurt forever.

“(y/n)?” Jack whispers breathlessly.

I look around at all their expectant faces, so many thoughts running through my head. I take a deep breath and calmly turn to Jack. Then to Jonah. I smile at both of them, tears trailing down my face, “I love you two. Please remember that.”

With that, I face the door and grab the keys to my car from the ground where Jack had dropped them and walk out calmly, pushing Zach to the side gently so he wouldn’t hit the door. As soon as I got outside the house of boys, I started bawling.

I climb into the car and shakily insert the key into the slot and turn the car on. I back up slowly and drive away from the Why Don’t We house.

He Stands in the Midst of Nations (DA2, Carver Hawke)

…how will Bethany know him when they see each other again, and he’s an old man and she’s still young, a fixed point in time getting ever-farther away?

A character study for Ser Carver Hawke, knight-lieutenant of the Templar Order. 

For @thievinghippo.


Sea breeze or not, Carver still sweats under his armor. His sleeves have bunched at his armpits something fierce, which means every time he moves it feels like he’s being rubbed with burlap, and something’s gone wrong with the collar of his chestpiece, so there’s a bloody blister forming at the nape of his neck.

Just another glorious day as a templar. He swallows down the old bitter sense of ill-use, and tries to ignore the voice crying why does this always happen to me in the back of his head. Sure, he’s miserable — hot and sticky and ready to yell from sheer frustration, and there are still four hours to go before he can sit down to lunch — but this is the misery he chose, and that makes whining about it pointless.

Better to stand in the sun and hate every minute because you chose to do so, rather than stand in your magnificent sister’s shadow and feel your soul curdling a little more every day, right?

The breeze tousles the hair falling over his forehead, cools the sweat stinging in his eyes. Carver tilts his head back and sighs as a little of his discomfort fades. The knight-captain always says it’s a templar’s duty to bear up under any little sufferings, and that he’ll get used to them in time, but Carver can’t see himself getting used to the chafes and aches any more than he can get used to smelling salt on the wind instead of good clean earth.

Still, he hasn’t complained out loud, which is more than he can say for Franklin or Rosemary, who only stop their whining when it’s time to eat, or to make some jab about Fereldan manure in the Gallows.

At first his fists itched to knock out a few of their teeth, and show them what happened when people sniped about farmers and dog lords. Like their parents had been any better than stablehands and barmaids; at least his family had owned the land they worked. But people expected him to brawl, he saw it in their eyes and in the glances they tossed back and forth, and so he gritted his teeth till he feared they’d crack, and never said a word, much less threw a blow.

Let them think he was too stupid to make sense of it all. He knew his worth. What did the rest matter?

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