mr cranky pants

▏Mr. Cranky Pants ▏Yongguk ▏ツ ▏

Request: a scenario in which Yongguk is a cold kind of person and not too social but whenever hes with you he gets all happy and stuff because he has a crush on you and then he confesses to you? thank you

Comments: Hope you like it, thanks for requesting :)

            “Hey.”

            Yongguk blinked.

            “Hey.”

            Yongguk raised an eyebrow.

            “Hey!

            Yongguk glanced up and met Daehyun’s eyes. “What?!” he snapped, clearly annoyed by his younger member who was disturbing his quiet time.

            Daehyun slyly smirked and took a seat right next to Yongguk on the mattress. “Why are you in such a bad mood today?” he asked, although he knew that Yongguk’s behavior was nothing out of the usual. It was in fact the epitome of his normal behavior.

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Fakiru Week 2017
Day 1: Silver


So, for Fakiru week this year, I’m doing a 7-part modern Pride and Prejudice AU I’ve been thinking about for some time now.  :3 I hope you’ll enjoy, and I’m sorry that each of these chapters are late :x

Also, this is all self-indulgent so like.  I’m sorry :x


Ahiru and her sisters weren’t born with silver spoons in their mouths.

On the contrary, life with the Featherbottoms was more like giant ice cream scoopers, aprons stained with crepe batter, and a limit to only two free samples per customer because running a parlor was expensive business.

… Ahiru thought it rather silly to limit them to two samples each, since barely anyone ever came in anymore.

Their little ice cream and crepe parlor sat on the eastern end of a dismally failing outdoor mall.  Most stores sat empty.  Other lots housed some random boutiques and the occasional rug store bound to be out of there by the next quarter.  Ahiru swore she saw tumbleweed brush past the glass paneled doors at least once a week.

Her parents, well-meaning and ridiculous as they were, insisted that their big break was coming—that Rue’s balletic talent (“her one redeeming quality!” they’d say, much to Ahiru’s chagrin) would carry them off into comfort and riches eventually, and persisted with keeping this little shop going as long as possible (if only so they wouldn’t lose the apartment).  Not without cutting corners, though: they swapped out fresh strawberries for preserves, removed avocado from all their savory crepes, convinced Ahiru to make smaller scoops per order, and other such minor details that soon coalesced into one giant mess of a business.

“Rue!!” came the shrill sing-song of their mother’s squawking, “Let your sisters handle the shop today!  You must keep to your lessons!  I’ve heard from your instructors that you’ve been focusing far less lately!”

Rue frowned impatiently, stubbornly pulling her thick hair into a tight bun.  "Ahiru will be left alone here.“

"I can handle it!” Ahiru said brightly from her spot in front of the display glass, wiping at the window above the bins of ice cream.  Though her parents saw Rue’s dancing as a way out of their struggles, Ahiru knew that her older sister genuinely felt her happiest in her pointe shoes.  "I don’t think it’s gonna get busy!  And Pique and Lilie are coming in this afternoon, that’s what they said!“

Rue gave Ahiru a withering stare.  

Ahiru’s expression wilted.  "O-Okay, so they’re not coming in.  But still, it’ll be okay, won’t it?  I know how everything is done!”

“Heavens, no!” Mrs. Featherbottom gasped, utterly scandalized, “The whole place would fall to pieces, and we’d be left with absolutely nothing!  We’ll be forced onto the streets: beggars!  Spinsters!”

Ahiru blinked owlishly.  "Spinsters?“

Spinsters!“

"Oh.”  Was Ahiru really that bad with the store upkeep?

Rue turned her nose up, her lips pursing, and to their mother, she might’ve looked haughty.  But Ahiru caught the subtle slump in Rue’s poised shoulders.  "Mother, I’ll stay here until Pique or Lilie comes to relieve me.  I’ll make up the lessons on my next day off.“

"Well, be sure that one of those two comes here soon!  The darlings—they work so hard and have such hefty schedules!  But we must balance our priorities, after all!  And Rue, you cannot have your talents go to waste!”


Rue took her spot at the crepe station while Ahiru sampled the strawberry flavor.  Minutes passed.  No customers, as expected.

So, Ahiru bumped the volume on the speakers and skidded across the tile floor, a mop her guitar and an ice cream scooper as a microphone.  Rue gave her that same, tiny smile, the one that said, “you’re so silly, I love you, little sister,” and rose to the tips of her non-slip shoes to twirl into a dance behind the counter.

Working wasn’t always that bad.


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hunger - chapter 2

Hunger master post


The dog is still breathing when Stiles clambers out of the back of the SUV that hit it. The driver is in shock, and has been apologizing profusely ever since it happened. And Stiles knows it’s not the guy’s fault. The dog was going for the man who’d hurt Stiles in the alley, and ran out in front of the SUV. Which makes this Stiles’s fault, doesn’t it?

The animal clinic isn’t open, but there’s a light on inside and someone moving around, so Stiles bangs on the door. It’s opened by a dark-haired boy who looks no older than him.

“My dog,” is all Stiles manages to get out before he’s crying again.

The boy and the driver carry the dog inside on a picnic blanket from the back of the driver’s SUV, and into the examination room. Stiles curls his fingers through the dog’s ruff, and leans down close to his ear to whisper to him again how sorry he is.

The driver slips toward the door, and Stiles thinks about chasing after him for a second and demanding he pay the bill for whatever this is going to cost, but what if the guy refuses? Then the dark-haired boy will know Stiles has no money.

“It’s okay,” he whispers to the dog instead. “You’ll be okay.”

The dark-haired boy checks for a heartbeat. “His heart sounds good,” he says. He runs his hands though the dog’s fur. “I think maybe his leg is broken, and some ribs?” His forehead wrinkles with a frown as he carefully manipulates the dog’s hind leg. “Actually, maybe it’s not a break. I should really call my boss in. I just work here after school.”

“Vet school?” Stiles asks, still sniffling.

“High school,” the boy answers. He wrinkles his nose as he presses his knuckles gently against the dog’s ribcage. “I could have sworn I felt a break a second ago. He really needs an x-ray.”

Stiles nods, despite the jolt of worry that goes through him. He can’t afford that. He’s got three dollars and seventy cents in the pocket of his jeans. He’s got nothing. And, when the boy turns his worried gaze from the dog to Stiles, and rakes it down his body, he knows he can tell.

It doesn’t matter how clean Stiles tries to keep himself. It doesn’t matter if he washes his spare shirt under the faucet in the diner bathroom every few days. He’s still filthy. He can’t remember the last time he showered, or washed his hair. He can’t remember the last time he ate something that wasn’t greasy or half-rotten. He knows he looks like shit. He knows he probably stinks like shit too, and so does the dog.

The boy runs his fingers through the dog’s fur again. “Is this a wolf hybrid?”

“I don’t…I don’t know.”

The boy casts him a worried look. “You’re not supposed to own them in California.”

Stiles feels a sudden flash of panic. He moves forward and nudges the boy out of the way. “We’ll go. We’ll just go.”

The dog blinks his eyes open and fixes his gaze on Stiles.

“Dude,” the boy says, sounding reproachful and regretful all at once, “I’m not going to report you. Just, if anyone finds out, he might get seized and put down.”

The dog rumbles out a growl.

“He’s fine,” Stiles says, his voice catching. “He’s fine, right?”

 “Um… I guess?” The boy looks puzzled. “He looked pretty bad when you got him here though. I really should call my boss.”

“No!” Stiles tugs at the dog’s ruff. “Come on. Come on, boy. Please get up. Come on.”

The dog rumbles again.

The boy puts a hand on Stiles’s shoulder. “Dude, don’t freak out, okay? I won’t call my boss if you don’t want me to. I won’t…” He chews his bottom lip for a moment. “You’re homeless, right?”

Stiles feels stripped bare, cold and naked. His breath hitches, and he jerks his chin in a nod.

“Look,” the boy says, squaring his shoulders. “I’m gonna give your dog some fluids, no charge, because I can really use the practice, and my mom packed me some dinner that I haven’t eaten yet. You want some?”

Stiles blinks at him for a moment. “What?”

“Homemade tamales,” the boy says, and wrinkles his nose. “I’m Scott, by the way.”

“St-Stiles,” Stiles says, his heart thumping loudly.

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Sensitive

Zayn: The morning light spilled into the bedroom, but neither one of you had any plans on leaving anytime soon. Zayn’s hands traced lightly over your skin, humming quietly to himself. Goosebumps rose on your arm, where he continued to draw unknown shapes. “So sensitive,” He whispered. He smiled at you as his hand wrapped around yours. “C’mere,” He said, gently tugging you into his chest. You nuzzled your nose into his collarbone, and sighed as his arms wrapped securely around you. Zayn’s thumb traced circles on your hip bone as he pressed a kiss to your temple. He rested his cheek on the top of your head and said quietly, “You’re my favorite part of the day.”

Harry: He had been sensitive all day. He growled at you when you offered a good morning, and had only come out of the bedroom to use the bathroom or get more food. You narrowed your eyes at him as he meandered towards the kitchen. You started to read again when you could hear him grumbling. Tossing the book to the side, you joined him next to the pantry. “There’s nothing to eat.” He muttered, his lower lip poking out. You scanned the pantry full of food. “No?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. He nodded and you rolled your eyes. “Fine, Mr. Cranky Pants, let’s go out for some lunch then.” You told him, leaving to grab your coat. Harry’s large hands wrapped around your hips, pulling you back against him. “I changed my mind. I think I just found something to eat.”

Niall: You didn’t think that your daughter could be any more like Niall, but when she came home from school today, you were quickly proven wrong. Her blue eyes were filled with tears as she ran into your arms. “What’s wrong, baby?” You asked, momentarily panic-stricken, thinking she was hurt. She sniffled and wrapped her arms tighter around your neck. “We learned in class today that there are kids that don’t have any food or anything. The have nothing!” She cried. Your heart ached for your little girl, sensitive to other people’s needs just like her father. Wiping away her tears, you kissed her forehead. “Can we help them?” She asked, her eyes growing wide. You smiled and nodded. “I think that’s a great idea.” You told her. “And Daddy can help too?” “Daddy can help too.”

Liam: His mouth ghosted over your neck, and his hips continued to press into you. You moaned under him, hands threading through his hair. Liam tugged your nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly. He moved his hand to cup your heat, and you whimpered. “Liam, I can’t,” You panted. “Too sensitive.” He glanced up at you through his thick eyelashes. With a wicked grin, he pressed a kiss between your breasts. “One more? For me, baby girl.” He murmured, his warm breath making you shiver. You closed your eyes as his fingers moved against your oh-so-responsive center. Your breath hitched as he slid his two fingers into you, and sighed in approval as his digits curled. “Is that a yes?” He breathed, his soft lips pressing to your cheek. With a nod, the two of you began all over again.

Louis: Glancing at your swollen stomach, you frowned. You were sitting in the middle of your bedroom floor, every article of clothing you owned strewn in every direction. None of your pants fit. You were too hot. The baby kept pressing against your bladder. It was all of those reasons and then some, that when Louis came home, he found you sobbing into a pair of skinny jeans. He was quick to wrap his arms around you, murmuring soothing words in your hair. “Hey, what’s wrong beautiful girl?” You wept, and gestured to the room. “I can’t fit into my skinny jeans,” You spluttered. “Oh, sweetie.” He chuckled lightly. “It’s not funny.” You told him sternly. Then, both of you glanced around the trashed room and cracked up. “ I think you, my sweet, sensitive love, need a cup of tea.”

gunnolflyall  asked:

"Hey Cecil! Come to the bedroom!"

“Yes, my love,” Cecil called back, putting Wendell down for his nap. He kissed the baby on the forehead. “Now, you sleep, okay? I don’t want a Mr. Cranky-Pants this afternoon.”

He went into the bedroom. “What’s up, Puppy?”