me: 🎙YOU ARE MY HONEYBUNCH SUGARPLUM PUMPYUMPYUMPKIN YOIRE MY SWEETIE PIE!!!! YOURE MY CUPPYCAKE GUMDROP SHNOOGUMS BOOGUMS YOURE !! THE APPLE OF MY EYE !!! AND I LOVE U SO AND I WANT U TO KNOW THAT ILL ALWAYS BE RIGHT HERE !!! AND I LOOOVE TO SING THIS SONG TO U BECUZ !! YOU!! ARE!! SOO !! DEAR !!!!! 📢📢
Guanlin to Seonho:
YOURE MY HONEYBUNCH SUGARPLUM PUMPY UMPY UMPKIN YOURE MY SWEETIE PIE YOURE MY CUPPYCAKE GUMDROPS SNOOGUMS BOOGUMS YOURE THE APPLE OF MY EYE AND I LOVE YOU SO AND I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT ILL ALWAYS BE RIGHT HERE AND I LOVE TO SING SWEET WORDS TO YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE SO DEAR
You’re my honeybunch
You’re my sweetie pie 🍰
You’re my cuppycake 🎂 gumdrop 🍬snoogums, boogums 🍭 You’re the apple
of my eye 👁 And I love you so 💞 and I want you to know
that I’ll always be right here 😘 And I love to sing
because you ☝🏽 are so dear 💌
When John kissed Sherlock goodbye, he immediately missed
him. He took the taxi to his job and couldn’t stop thinking about him the whole
ride. He looked so perfect wrapped in his housecoat, holding Rosie, kissing his
cheek and wishing him a good day at work. It was all so domestic. He looked at
the clock, one minute passed, he looked again. Three minutes passed. Clinics
are never slow, it’s that some days people seem perfectly healthy, and then
others, the whole of London is trying to get themselves examined. Today was one
of the days where he was going to see more paperwork than patients, save for
the moms who insisted that there was something wrong with their kid, or the
usual patient that searched their symptoms online and are convinced they’re
dying. Other than that, there was hours of him thinking about Sherlock and
Rosie, wondering what the two were doing. Teletubbies was probably over now, he
knew how much Sherlock hated that show. He smiled just thinking about the man’s
He missed him so much.
Maybe he could call them right now, his boss wouldn’t care,
and it wasn’t like there were patients lining up to see him today. Was Sherlock’s
phone even on? Was Rosie snapping pictures on it again by accident? He made one
of those his lockscreen when Sherlock wasn’t looking. The picture showed Rosie’s
wide eyes from the flash, and Sherlock moving to take the phone away. He was
His phone was vibrating and it was just the person he wanted
to call. He heard Rosie screaming in the background. Sherlock must have been holding
“John, when was the last time Rosie…went?”
John’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Well, she’s a bit cranky right now and her diaper’s been
lacking a bit of…solid matter….”
John’s eyes widened and he said, “Oh. She’s not shitting.”
He laughed at Sherlock’s exasperation. “You put it so
eloquently John. Yes, Rosie hasn’t shat.”
“Um, there should be a bit of castor oil in the bathroom.
Give her a bit and see if that works.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Give her tummy a little massage, and feed her some mashed
banana or something. But be patient, love, don’t need her exploding.”
“Yes, okay.” He sounded distracted, John heard some rustling
and Sherlock trying to shush the baby. John pressed his phone to his ear with
his shoulder as he resumed the paperwork. “She alright?”
“I think she’s having a bit of tummy pain. We’re in the
bathroom now, I’ve just given her a sip of the oil. She didn’t eat much this
“Aw, poor thing.”
“Are you referring to me or the baby?” Sherlock deadpanned.
John snorted. “Obviously the one who’s in pain, Sherlock.”
“I appreciate the sentiment then.” Sherlock laughed a bit
and John heard some rustling.
“I think she wants to hear your voice. Let me just quiet her
down for a second. Are you busy right now?”
“Never too busy for you, love.”
Sherlock didn’t respond, but John could hear him blush
through the phone. He waited a bit before he heard Sherlock singing to the
“You’re my honeybunch sugarplum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin, you’re my
sweetie pie. You’re my cuppycake gumdrop snoogums boogums you’re…”
“The apple of my eye…” John finished. His cheeks were tinted
red as he listened to Sherlock’s soft voice sooth the crying baby. Sherlock
chuckled and kept singing, and John joined in with him, not caring how he
looked to his boss or anyone that walked past his office. He knew this nursery
song, and he missed the opportunity to sing with Sherlock last time.
In unison, the men sang, “And I love you so and I want you
to know that I’ll always be right here, and I love to sing sweet songs to you
because you are so dear…”
Rosie was silent now but he could hear her soft noises
through the phone. John was sitting in his office grinning like an idiot. One
day he’s just going to sing to Sherlock, with Sherlock, he didn’t know. He just
wanted to hear the man sing again. Sherlock was talking to Rosie now, “Are we
John’s heart melted as he listened to the two, well, mainly
“I think she’s okay now, I’m sorry if I bothered you.”
“It’s fine, Sherlock. It’s all fine.”
John had a guess they were both smiling into the phone now.
Sherlock coughed and said, “I’ll see you when you come back.”
“Mhm, sure will. Takeaway tonight? I was going to stop at
the shops but Rosie’s not well…”
“Well the oil is not going to work for a few hours, and she
seems calm now. I can try to get a bit of the shopping done if you would like.
But still, order takeaway tonight.”
Another laugh. “Goodbye, John.”
“I love you, Sherlock.” It came out, but he’s been dying to
say it again. Any chance he gets.
“I love you too, John.”
He hung up and sank back in his chair.
@zayn you’re my honeybunch, sugarplum, pumpie umpy umpkin, you’re my sweetie pie, you’re my cuppycake, gumdrop, snoogums boogums, you’re the apple of my eye… and i love you soooo and i want you to know that i’ll always be right here… and i love to sing sweet songs to you because you are sooooo dear
🍓💕💗 you’re my honeybunch, sugar plum pumpy-umpy-umpkin 🍓✨💕💗 you’re my sweetie pie you’re my cuppycake, gumdrop, snoogums boogums, you’re the APPLE of my eye ✨💕💗🍓i luv u i love you I love you I Love You I LOVE YOU!!! 💕✨♥️🍓💕💗✨🍓💕 en tus ojitos se esconde el mundo entero, & from your lips the prettiest words always escape, i luv u i love you I love you I Love You I LOVE YOU 🍓✨💗💕🍓✨
“Do you have plans today?” Wonho asked you before you could get a chance to say hello when he called you.
Your looked down at your attire when he asked you this and raised your eyebrows at the stain on your white shirt. Your eyes went down a little further until they reached your frumpy black sweatpants that had been wore way too many times.
rosworms: Sastiel with Sam coming out of anesthesia. Like youtube video gold type of stuff.
A/N: Here’s your prompt! I’m sorry for taking so long!
When Castiel brought Sam to the dentist it was to get all four wisdom teeth removed since visiting a dentist wasn’t exactly at the top of the Sam’s to do list. Ever. Dentist visits were always something extra and only needed in extreme cases. Sam took care of his mouth for the most part, but nothing could prepare him for his wisdom teeth coming in late and at the same time. He should have had them removed years before. Nothing can be done now, except wait for the procedure to be over.
By the time two hours is up, Sam emerges from the back room helped by three other employees. They’re all a little red in the face trying to keep the taller man on his feet and once Castiel takes over, he understands why. Sam is heavy. He keeps stumbling over himself, catching his feet on the rug, his head falling forward and further weighing them down. Getting him out to the car takes all four of them and some careful maneuvering on Castiel’s part to finally get Sam’s long legs tucked inside his car. Before leaving, the employees warn him that Sam’s going to be loopy but Castiel is not truly prepared by that alone.
With a pain prescription tucked in Castiel’s pocket and his hand kidnapped by Sam (because according to Sam he wanted to pet the turtle), they set off for the pharmacy. Fifteen minutes seems incredibly long with Sam groaning at every stop light, fidgeting around, punching the headrest (“Pillow’s not soft, Cas, s'made of bricks”), breaking the headrest, and then throwing his arm over his eyes dramatically. His voice is muffled by all the cotton in his mouth.
“Cas, I don’t… my legs… are sticks… stilts.”
“What?” Castiel’s brow scrunches as he turns his head. A single tear tracks down Sam’s face.
“I'ma clown, Cas, only clowns wearstilts-”
“You’re not a clown, Sam-”
“’m not? You sure? Whad'if ’m a clown though? You’d- you wouldn’t know though- they coulda turned me on the op'rting table-”
“The… the what?”
Sam groans. He picks at his shirt,
“The ‘peratin’ table, Cas. Can’t. Why are there so many?”
“So many what?”
“So many fuzzies. Fuzzy fairies. Look! Look like… cumquats-”
“Have you ever seen a cumquat?”
“Course I h’ve. Did the thing. Went to.” Sam pauses. He gazes intensely out the windshield. Castiel looks away for a second before Sam grunts out, “FARMER MARKET. Where they farm. The markets.”
“Yes!” Sam laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world. His whole body bends in on itself. “Orshinges. 'n there was… um. Starfoots.”
“Starfoots, yup. Don’t know how t'eat them. Kinda confused. ’m confused, too.” He makes a grabby motion with his hand for Castiel’s who offers his hand in resignation. Sam pets the back of his knuckles lovingly while he cooes sweet nothings it’s ok Mr. turtle i got you no one’s gonna make you into soup tonight. Castiel cracks a grin. He can’t stop himself from laughing at Sam’s insistence on stopping by a pet store for a cage and turtle food (tree bark and lettuce, according to him).
“Turtles don’t eat tree bark.”
“Then what does?”
“But I haaaate squirrels, c'mon, let’s keep the turtle-”
“We can’t keep it if you don’t feed it the right thing-”
Sam’s not listening. He’s kissing Castiel’s hand everywhere and humming as he goes to the wrist back to the palm. He starts rocking side to side like he’s listening to music. Then his voice slips out in a falsetto that makes Castiel’s eyes enlarge with concern.
“-want your love and I want your revenge, you 'n me could have a bad romance- studded belts and kissing the sand-”
At a stop light, he holds his head in his other hand that Sam isn’t serenading at the moment and shakes with laughter. In a matter of seconds, Sam goes from Lady Gaga to Frank Sinatra then to humming Bach’s 'Little Fugue in G minor’ which he butchers horribly in his fake high voice because he tries to do every part.
“Did you know,” Sam starts when Castiel begins driving again, “Did you know that you’re my pumpy umpy umpkin? You’re my sweetie pie? My cuppycake? God, I love gumdrops- I wanna be your gumdrop, Cas-”
“Do you?” Castiel casts a glance over to Sam who’s now curled up in the front seat cuddling Castiel’s hand with his big hazel eyes opened and hopeful. “Who’s my little gumdrop?”
Sam blushes, nuzzles the back of his hand.
“Me. Only me. ’m a gumdrop. On stilts.” Then his face crumples with realization coupled with pure terror. "’m a clown!“ He pats his face where he feels tears track down, ”'n ’m leaking, Cas, ’m broken-! Dean can’t see me like this- can’t- get me duct tape- band aids- snap snap, Cas-“
“Are you a crab now?”
“You’re not a clown, I promise.”
“But… but what if I grow a red nose-” Sam gasps and sits up as he presses Castiel’s hand to his chest, “I’M RUDOLPH. We need to save chris'mas, Cas. You can be my Daisy. Need to get you a bow. And reindeer parents.”
“And what does this make Dean?”
They pull up to the drive-in pharmacy, Castiel takes a moment to look at Sam who turns to him with the most swagger anyone drugged person can have, his brow lifted.
“DENTIST,” he says loudly and with conviction just as the pharmacist opens the window. Castiel is caught between her confused face and Sam’s intense one and forgets for a moment to give her the prescription. When he does, she tells him to come back in an hour after Sam leans over, introduces himself as Rudolph, and thanks Cornelius for fighting the abominable snowman.
Castiel is never more thankful when they return to the bunker. Sam is draped over his back because his legs, which he maintains are still stilts, keep tripping him up.
“’m too tall. Air’s too thin up here, Rudolph can’t aglimate- acc…limate, Rudolph dead, goin’ down, Dairy-”
“Right, Dairsy.” Sam lays his cheek on Castiel’s shoulder as they descend the steps carefully. “Oooh. This feels bad, Cas. Tummy kinda hurts. Feel cold. Can’t pull the sleigh tonight.”
“I don’t think Santa will mind.”
“But he’ll dock my pay-”
“Santa will understand.”
“Even though I’m a clown?”
“You’re not a clown-”
“But I’m a reindeer?”
“No, you’re not.”
Sam is silent for a moment.
“I have to pee. Like now.”
“Sam, you better hold it.”
“If I was a reindeer, I’d just do it in the sky-”
“Well, we’re not pulling Santa’s sleigh so you can’t just- Sam, if you don’t hold it in-”
Luckily, they do manage to get to the bathroom, but not without trouble. Sam can’t aim, so Castiel has to for him, only when Sam’s not concentrating he starts swaying and his legs almost go out from under him. After it all, there’s only a little bit of a mess and tons of toilet paper that Sam pulled out to become a mummy all around the toilet. Castiel tries to roll it up a little until he hears a thud followed by Sam groaning. When he turns back, Sam’s holding his head because he ran into the doorframe which he does a second time after reassuring Castiel that he’s got this under control. It happens a third time when he tries to get into his room.
Castiel prepares the necessary medications for him, the food which is all liquids, and stays with Sam who rambles on about the library and how he wants to find Narnia between the books because books are kind of like clothes on hangers so there’s a good probability that it’ll happen. Castiel has one leg on the bed, the other on the floor, and Sam spooned to him dressed in sweats and a t-shirt (the process for getting him in different clothes being way more laborious than helping Sam go to the bathroom). Sam says he likes this position because it doesn’t hurt his cheeks.
“Face cheeks. Not ass cheeks. Those don’t hurt today.”
“Uh, sometimes tomorrow. I think.”
Castiel purses his lips while Sam plays with his hands. He kisses the back of Sam’s head occasionally which makes the other giggle a bit before turning his head to look up at Castiel.
“Feels like kishes.”
“Fish kisses. Like when they pop pop on your hand.”
“You put yer han’ in the water 'n they kiss your hand like-” he makes an 'o’ with his mouth, puts Castiel’s wrist to his lips, and makes a popping noise against it. “Pop pop."
He smiles at the dimpled grin on Sam’s face then kisses his forehead. Sam breathes out, completely relaxed, before turning around and taking Castiel’s hands in his and making them drum on his stomach before fixing them in different positions to make animals. He’s unreasonably upset that he can’t make a fish or a turtle, cries for a minute, then goes back to serenading Castiel’s hand to the tune of 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’.
me @ louis: you’re my honeybunch, sugar plum pumpy-umpy-umpkin you’re my sweetie pie you’re my cuppycake, gumdrop
snoogums, boogums, you’re the apple of my eye and I love you so and I want you to know that I’m always be right here and I want to sing sweet songs to you because you are so dear
This is my very first attempt at smut so please let me know if you like it. I don’t think I can really call this a drabble because it’s pretty long. All I can say is sorry and grab a glass of wine!
I have to say a huge-huge-huge THANK YOU to @papofglencoe who volunteered to Beta for me. I’m so honored that you thought my project might be worth your time and amazing talent. Your encouragement and kind words went a long way in assuring that this story didn’t get trashed within minutes of writing it. I absolutely adore you and those Oxford Commas of yours! Oh, some of those sexy suggestions weren’t too bad either.
Here we go, folks! I’m hitting the submit button. Really! I am.
Four months, eighteen days, and four hours. That is how long our sweet little Lilly has been a part of our family. She is out-and-out baby perfection wrapped up in the plush green giraffe blanket I bought within hours of learning of her impending arrival. Mom had even been excited to learn that she was going to have a granddaughter; I wish she could’ve lived long enough to meet her. I look down at Lilly asleep in her carrier and caress the dark tresses that wisp across her forehead. She has the most beautiful black hair. Prim hopes it will lighten to a shade of brown closer to my own, but I know different. She has her Daddy’s thick raven-colored hair, but it’s not as coarse as her Dad’s. Her tiny waves still feel like spun silk whenever you touch them.