needed a fresh batch had the same things over and over again

Day 29: Magnus + being the High Warlock of Brooklyn

His day began with three quick knocks on the door. Even as the third hit landed, he was off from his bed, hands reaching for his robes, magic the last thing on his mind as he hurried to get to the door in time, well aware that his early morning visitor only gave three chances before she would disappear and he wouldn’t see her in months. Three successive knocks repeated three times, and that was the only warning he got before she pulled off her disappearing act.

He got to the door just as she the last knock landed and pulled open the door, pleased to see that he caught her just in time. She had one leg extended, ready to walk away, her big gray coat way too big for her skinny frame, and she hugged herself, as if bracing herself against the dangers of the world.

“Miss Corinne,” he said and gave a little bow, gazing up at her with a smile that she slowly returned.

She gave a little curtsy, “High Warlock,” and when she rose to her full height, all four foot nine of it in her flat sensible shoes, her hands flapped about, her anxiety kicking into full gear.

Magnus pulled his door wide open and gestured her in, closing the door with a snap of his finger and then walking towards his pantry, throwing his hands in the air reaching for all the ingredients he needed to make her bones ache just a little bit less and have her heart just a little bit lighter.

Those brown eyes, slightly dimmed with pain but no less intelligent watched him and when he gestured at her, the old wolf took her seat.

Magnus took the seat across from her, and hummed as he added some dried helichrysum to the mix and ground it in, working with smooth motions until it was all blended in. He then poured a generous helping of vinegar over the mix and bottled up the jar. He snapped his fingers and another identical bottle appeared. “For the first six weeks,” he said to her, noting as she nodded at him. “The fresh batch will be good six weeks from now.” He waited until she gave him a quick nod, and then walked her out of the loft, a quick snap replacing the quarters in her pulse with several bills—all twenties because Corinne tended to have a problem with the larger bills. That should take care of her groceries for the three months it would take before she visited him again.

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anonymous asked:

i'd like to request full blood angst! any genre, plot, ideas will do just please~~~

Title: Eventually

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Jumin Han x MC/Reader/You

a/n❗️ i am back and i hope this ficlet will suffice your full blood angst request, dear love~ ciao!

6 months

You often find yourself with tears-stained face whenever you wake up in the morning. No matter how much you try and deny to yourself about what you felt, it still comes and crawls back, haunting you until you surrender to it. The bizarre pain you feel when you hear his name, think of him, recall the times you both have been together aches and you cannot do anything but succumb to the pain you’re feeling.

You lose. Every time.
Not that you didn’t mind.

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Enchanted // Moon Bin


the prompt: may I please request the mermaid/enchanted voice au with Moonbin of Astro??
(from this au) “I’m a mermaid/merman, and you’ve fallen in love with my voice. How do I break it to you that you don’t actually love me, you’re just enchanted?”

words: 3922

category: fluff + angst

author note: have you guys heard the new astro songs yet? the aroha song is so sweet! for this scenario i decided to make moonbin the mermaid rather than the reader, which i feel like was the best decision bc now i’m in love with this mermaid au. also, i might do a spin-off of this for eunwoo?? or a sequel for bin?? probably both?? anyway, pls enjoy merman bin~

- destinee

Originally posted by starryeunwoo

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Home Is Where Your Heart Lies || Persona 5

• lil persona thing I’ve had in my head for a while
• no ships involved this is just a cute lil thang man
• tags @noctsgay (even tho you’ve never played this game but still read the thing) and also @irridallium (again idk if you’ve played the game but idk I think my writing is worth your time???)

The small bell above the door to Leblanc rings shrilly. Sojiro calls out from the kitchen as he makes a new batch of curry.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Sojiro soon shuffles out from the kitchen with the fresh batch of curry and a clean piston of coffee. He stops in his tracks as he sees the person in the booth, and a small, heartwarming smile rises on his usually miserable face.

“Well if it isn’t the kid that stayed in my attic for a year.” Sojiro laughs. He serves up a curry and a coffee for the customer, setting it down in front of him before joining him in the booth. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been well,” Akira responds, pushing a few tufts of his shaggy black hair out of the way of his eyes, then slides his glasses up his nose in the same swift motion. “Just graduated high school, moving onto college soon. I’ve just done my entrance exams, and got the results back pretty quickly.”

“That’s good.” On cue, Morgana pops his head out of the corner of Akira’s messenger bag, meowing. Of course, Akira can still hear Morgana’s voice, a shrill, positive remark on how good Sojiro’s coffee and curry smells.

“Still have that damn cat, I see.” Sojiro smiles, before moving over to carefully stroke the cat. Morgana purrs in affection. Sojiro chuckles lightly.

“The others are gonna be very happy to hear about this.” Sojiro states. “Have you told them yet?”

“I’m about to.” Akira smiles as he gets out his phone. He still kept in contact with his old friends, despite the Phantom Thieves disbandment. He very rarely sees them, however, yet with his change in situation, he strongly felt he would see them a lot more.
Rather than tell them the classic way, with words, Akira simply takes a photograph of the curry and coffee in front of him, and sends it to the group conversation. He then places down his phone, grinning at the sudden array of buzzes rising from the phone.

Sojiro and Akira reminisce a little more, before the door opens again. There is the sounds of panting and wheezing, before Akira’s body is hit with a bear hug. Akira chuckles, patting the red-head girl lightly as Futaba eventually pulls away, pushing her glasses up her nose. Her words come out in a flurried array.


Sojiro chuckles, serving up another batch of coffee and curry for Futaba.

Futaba then organises her words, “I was the first to see the message. Very clever. Very cryptic. But, I think we all got it.”

“Thank you, Futaba.” Akira smiles, and Morgana meows in agreement. Futaba’s smile grows when she meets the cat’s eyes.

Futaba reaches forward to stroke the cat. Morgana braces himself for the usual harsh petting, yet, is pleasantly surprised when Futaba becomes a lot more gentle. In response to this, Morgana climbs out of the bag and onto her lap, curling up neatly and purring gently. Futaba giggles, continuing to pet the cat whilst conversation continued.

“Futaba has been getting a lot better since you left. Of course, at first it was a little tough, but, she eventually came out of her shell again. She’s even in high school now.”

“Yup.” Futaba smiles. “Shujin Academy, second year.”

“That’s good. How’s high school treating you?” Akira asks.

“Good. I’ve made some friends. Joined some clubs. The usual stuff.”

Futaba then leans closer, “There is still talk of the Phantom Thieves though, but it’s mainly just urban legends for the new first-years.”

“Yeah, it was like that at my school for a while too. We really made an impact, huh?”

The door opens again, and two more join the party.

“Akira!” Ryuji chimes, as Ann follows closely behind. Sojiro begins on more coffee and curry as the two sit in the booth beside Akira and Futaba.

“Why did you not tell us you were coming back?!” Ann asks.

“Yeah! I’m your best friend, man! Coulda told us!” Ryuji chimes, then chuckles. When Sojiro brings over the refreshments, Ryuji began to devour the curry, to Ann’s dismay.

“Mmm! Ish goof, Sojiro.” Ryuji remarks, mouth full and spitting curry chunks about the table. Ann rolls her eyes in disgust.

“Still as gross as ever I see, Ryuji.” Morgana meows. Ryuji frowns, yet continues to eat.

“How have you two been then? Missed me?” Akira asks.

“Whaf kinda queftion ish thaf?” Ryuji asks. “Of courf!”

“Ryuji, you could please swallow that down before you talk?” Ann asks, looking away. “You’re gonna make me barf..”

“So-” Ryuji then swallows. “Sorry.”

“Yeah. We missed ya, Akira. Ryuji definitely needed a guiding light.”

“Oh yeah, you guys are in college, right? Or going into it.”

“Yup. Ryuji probably tanked his entrance exams though.”

“Well if you studied like I told you to, it wouldn’t have been so much of a problem.” A new voice entered the fray. During the course of Ryuji spitting his food around, the others barely noticed Makoto and Haru enter the cafe. Everyone shuffles up to make room. In the back lingered Sae - who was only there because she was the only one out of the small household that could drive, yet, getting to see Akira was a nice bonus to being dragged out on a Sunday.

“Welcome back, Akira.” Sae smiles. “You aren’t on probation again, are you?”

Everybody laughs at this. Akira smiles.
“Nah. I’ve been a good boy.”

“That’s good.” Sae chuckles, sitting at the bar and drinking the coffee and Sojiro served her. Haru and Makoto sit down, filling the booth.

“On the topic of college,” Ryuji later interrupts. “Akira, where did you say you were heading this fall?”

“Yeah, you never told us.” Makoto remarks.

“We’re dying to know!” Ann cheerfully adds.

Akira blushes. The reason for him returning to Tokyo was mainly influenced by college decisions. Yet, he didn’t want to spoil anything yet.

“Let’s wait until Yusuke’s here. Then I’ll tell you.”

Ryuji groans at this, yet, follows along. The others impatiently look at the door to the cafe, and soon enough the blue haired artist enters the building.

“Sorry for the wait. The train took forever.” Yusuke hurriedly sits down, pulling a chair over from the bar to join his friends.

“It’s fine. We’re all here now, at least.”

Reminiscing ensues, with Sojiro periodically serving the group of teenagers as they laughed and shared old stories of when they kicked ass. All remark on stories from their lives, letting Akira in on the details.

Soon, the conversation returns to what everyone had been waiting to hear.

“Come on! Tell us!” Haru smiles.

“Well, if you insist..”

Akira had kept them waiting long enough. He tells the others how he had been looking at many colleges for a while, and with his grades, he could have got into any of the colleges on the vast list of choices. However, a certain one did catch his eyes, and when he told his friends the location, the room erupted into cheers.

“Yes! That’s awesome!” Ryuji chimes in.

“Yeah!” Ann adds. “Awesome news!”

“But you haven’t heard the rest yet!” Akira laughs. The room goes quiet, yet, excited whimpers from the others were heartwarming to Akira.

“I’ve just done my entrance exams, and…” Akira keeps them waiting again. “I got a response back quickly. I’m in!”

The room erupts back into cheers again.

“Excellent news!” Yusuke responds. “The gang really is back together.”

“Yeah.” Akira smiles. “I mean, that’s what I wanted.”

“Akira, if you need a room, you know my attic’s still available. Of course it’ll need a bit of a cleaning, but, you’ll manage.” Sojiro smiles.

“Thank you, Sojiro.”

“And we’ll offer up any materials for help.” Sae answers. “Makoto’s basically finished anyway.”

“Thanks, guys.” Akira smiles. “Seriously, you’re great.”

Everyone then returns to excitable conversations, as Akira soon settles into the life he once knew.

- FIN -

We Intertwined: Ch. 12

An Ignis Scientia Story

Chapter 11 | AO3 | Chapter 13
Word Count: 1,660

When Ignis arrived at the house the next morning, he was surprised to see a number of measuring cups and spoons laid out on the kitchen counter. The kitchen was empty, but if he strained his ears, he could hear shuffling coming from within the walk-in pantry.

Raine emerged balancing a stack of ingredients in her hands, her tongue poking out of her mouth as she precariously made her way over to drop everything off. She nearly stumbled, but Ignis hurried over just in time to collect a bag of flour and the shortening from her hands before they slipped from her grasp.

“Oh, good morning,” she greeted, exhaling heavily so that the stray hairs that escaped her braid moved out of her face. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

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The Only One - John Shelby

Originally posted by bonniebirdsgifcentre

I know requests are busy, but would you mind doing an imagine with John being there for you after you breakup with your boyfriend. John had been begging you for ages to breakup with him because he was horrible to you (not abusive).

I decided to set this in an AU without Martha, because childhood sweetheart John/reader is my jam right now  👌


Things have been rocky for a while between myself and Walter, in fact I can barely remember a time when I was happy with him; any fond memories slowly extinguished by the arguments and accusations until the tiny flicker of anything good had finally burnt out. But the routine and my naïveté, coupled with the coos of ‘hasn’t she done well, snagging herself someone respectable at barely seventeen years old’ from my mother had shielded me from the gravity of the situation.

It was that realisation which has given me the gumption to end things.

I had hoped it would be a easy break, that he’d be mature enough to accept the termination of our relationship with dignity, but that was an hour ago and he’s barely stopped screaming long enough to take a breath.

“Two years I’ve wasted on you! I knew you were just a silly little girl! And to think I asked you to marry me!”

I scoff at the thought; a lifetime with a man I can barely tolerate.

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Marichat Week: Baton

Marinette​ paced incessantly, nervous and agitated. The reason for her near panic was shining innocently​in her hand: a silver cylinder with a green pawprint caught the sunlight every time she made the circuit of her balcony.

Tikki hovered back, just as nervous and ansty.

‘So you’re telling me that he can transform back, but his kwami will be effected, and he now has no way of contacting me?’ Marinette​ asked. Tikki nodded, her forehead creased.

Marinette sat down on the deckchair in exasperated resignation. ‘That cat is going to be the death of me, someday,’ she sighed. Tikki just nodded sagely behind her.


‘Plagg; Plagg, calm down!’ Adrien was yelling into his cavernous room at exactly the same moment. The black kwami, of course, did no such thing.

‘I will never be able to show my face in public again,’ he wailed, floating around the room at an odd angle that made him look like a zombie and gave off the maximum aura of despondence. ‘The other kwami will repudiate me! They will strike me off the power list! I’ll never go to a quantac party again! And Tikki! Tikki will want a divorce!’

‘Plagg, I’m sure it’s not so bad as all that,’ Adrien tried, attempting to sooth the little black cat. ‘It’s only a tail, I’m sure once I get the baton back-’

‘Only a tail!’ Plagg squeaked indignantly, first puffing up in rage and then throwing himself in a desperate swoon over the back of the couch. ‘How would you like it if you lost your tail! Oh, the shame and ignominy, and having such an insensitive, unfeeling chosen!’

‘Plagg, it’s not like it’s lost,’ Adrien tried to reason. ‘We know exactly where it is. We couldn’t very well leave Marinette on that burning roof, could we? She needed a way down and we needed to get going. As soon as I can, we’ll tranform and go get it back. She’ll still have it right? It won’t have disappeared?’

‘No,’ Plagg answered sulkily. ‘She’ll have it.’

‘There, you see? No need to worry. As soon as I can get away I’ll transform, go to Mari’s, we get the baton back and everything will be back as it was! Come have some Camembert. Natalie ordered a special batch, fresh from the region, and-’

‘But she’ll know!’ Plagg wailed, startling Adrien, who had to admit that the kwami looked a little lopsided without his tail. ‘She’ll see, and that is already shame enough! No, this is the end, my long and valiant life ends, and therefore I!’ He floated to the dust bin. ‘This is where I live now.’

‘That’s where you usually live,’ Adrien replied, voice flat. However, he couldn’t deny that he was worried; Plagg had never refused Camembert.

Adrien looked at the clock. He didn’t have any more extra-curriculars today, and Natalie should let him be. But it was still early, only half past five, and it was not unknown for his father or his secretary to pop in unannounced to make sure he was doing his homework.

Well, desperate measures. He grabbed the bin and ran to bathroom, opening the shower and locking the door behind him. No one would begrudge him showering, surely.

‘I don’t want to,’ Plagg pouted as soon as Adrien peered down at him over the basket’s rim.

‘You never do, but the sooner we do this, the sooner I get the baton back, then problem solved.’

Plagg glared back fiercely, ‘She’ll see,’ he hissed.

‘Who’s she?! Marinette will only see me, so you don’t have to worry! I didn’t know you liked her that much!’

His kwami’s flat glare did not alter. ‘You are the most oblivious child I’ve ever met. Your father is making a hack-up job of all this. And to think, I usually choose street kids. They’re all whip-smart. But no, not this time! Serves me right for trying to choose a life of luxury!’

Adrien pouted at him, rather hurt. ‘Plagg, transforme-moi,’ he said in a monotone. He felt the magic wash over him, blinked as the light faded and then glanced at the mirror out of habit to make sure everything was ok.

And slapped a hand on his face to stifle the scream that reflexively tried to escape the moment he caught sight of himself.

He was wearing a furry loin cloth. Furry boots. Furry wrist warmers. A lion’s head over his own with the mane as a cloak. His mask was tan.

That was the sum total of everything he was wearing. Adrien had to resist the urge to cover his chest like a bashful virgin (which he was, thank you very much!). He swore he could hear Plagg snickering at him at the back of his mind; something along the lines of ‘if you make me suffer, you must suffer too’.

‘Ok,’ he said, taking deep breathes and trying not to loose his cool. He was Chat Noir, he could do this. Chat … leon? Oh lord help him, he didn’t even fit his own name anymore. But it was ok, it was ok; he just had to go to Marinette, retreave the baton- Marinette! Marinette his cute classmate, his class president, would see him half naked. In furry speedoes.

Plagg was going to get cheddar for a week.

‘Ok, let’s just do this and forget it ever happened,’ he told himself, throwing himself out of the window and promptly plummetting to the ground. Right, no baton. He was going to have to climb a wall to hop roofs, but first, he had to walk.

This was going to be so humiliating.


When Chat Noir - er, Chat Jaune?  Chat … Leon? - landed on the roof behind her balcony, panting and winded, Marinette first jumped, then stared.

And stared and stared.

Who the heck gave him permission to go around dressed like that - not dressed like that - looking incredibly hot with his heaving chest and exposed musculature and oh dear gods were those pecks? Was that a six pack?!

‘Give me a moment, I can explain,’ he panted, going more and more pink the more she stared. Marinette tried to look away, she honestly did, but what business did he have being so gorgeous?! ‘This is my kwami’s idea of a joke. I mean, the object of power. I have. It didn’t like that I lost a piece of the magic. The baton. Thing. And so changed my clothes. Costume. Armour. So now I don’t have any. Armour I mean. Well, clothes too. And ….’

By this point, Chat was crimson in the face, Marinette was purple, and they were both looking at each other uncertainly. Tikki, who’d dived into her purse, gave a tiny giggle, and Marinette coughed to try to cover it up; it broke the deadlock staring contest between them, and Marinette pivoted to look at the wall.

‘Ok it is!’ she said in a squeaky voice. ‘You’re great! Oh I mean gorgeous- I mean!’ Oh, kill her now. She buried her face in her hands. What? What? How dare Chat Noir make her stutter! She only stuttered for Adrien Agreste!

Chat Noir - Jaune? Leon? - meanwhile seemed to be having some sort of epiphany.

‘You stutter when you’re embarrased!’ he said, as if he’d just discovered a new energy source that would save humanity. Marinette moaned mournfully. She hoped now, more than ever, that he would never discover her real identity. She couldn’t ever live with his ego if he discovered he could render her speechless just by going topless. Well, bottomless, too, one could argue. And those furry panties were really hiding nothing from the imagination and why was his skin shining like he’d oiled it?!

‘Well, Princess,’ he said, all traces of embarrassment gone - she knew it - ‘I am sorry for causing distress with my … appearance. I would appreciate if you could, perhaps, return my baton, and I will be on my way.’

Marinette hazarded a peak at him when his tone was not as teasing as she thought it would be. He was standing tall, his arms folded over his bare chest (she did not feel disappointed about that!). A dusting of pink on his cheeks was still visible, but his blush had certainly receded. He looked serious, all business. Marinette had hardly ever seen him without a silly grin on his face. The change, abrupt as it was, managed to worm a sense of worry out from between the mortification (and her suddenly raging libido, which she was not admitting to, no sir).

‘Are you ok?’ she asked, retrieving the baton from her pocket and gladly handing it back. He took it without changing expression.

‘I have caused you distress. My Kwami no doubt thought it was a good joke on me, to make me walk around Paris like this. But he- it, er, didn’t think of you. I’m making you uncomfortable I’m sorry.’

Marinette softened considerably in a place in her heart she did not like to admit existed (it did not, in fact, exist, no sir). Chat … Chat was a gentleman at heart, he’d always been. Seeing her uncomfortable must have really caused him to worry. And Chat had never lied to her - this was his Kwami’s idea of a joke, apparently. It wasn’t his fault.

(Sure, he had no business being that hot, but it wasn’t like he could help it. Shut up, inner-Marinette, we do not want to see his other baton, thank you!)

She’d just about seen everything else, anyway.

Oh dear gods she’d not just thought that!

‘Oh, it’s ok! I was just surprised!’ she squeaked, thoroughly ashamed at her train of thought. (Choo-choo! All aboard the express to sin-city– shut up)

‘I will take my leave,’ he said, bowing down, and Marinette had to bite her lip at the view it gave her of rippling skin and muscle. His face, though, was still so uncomfortable and almost ashamed. She couldn’t let him go like that.

‘Wait!’ she said. Chat, who’d already started to turn, twisted back towards her, just on time for her to catch him off guard. She dropped a light, feathery kiss on his cheek, then retreated back quickly when her hands threatened to linger on that warm, soft hard skin of his shoulder and torso. Silk on steel left a burn mark on her palms, and she rubbed them together to rub the impression out. ‘Thank you. For saving me,’ she said. She hadn’t needed it, but he hadn’t known, and had still handicapped himself in order to save her life. There hadn’t been any way to give him his baton in battle, not when they’d been separated, and he’d been taken over by the akuma before she could rejoin him. But he’d still done it, and then suffered a humiliating trip across Paris from wherever he lived, in a furry pair of panties, just for her.

The place that did not exist in her chest fluttered savagely. Marinette fiddled with her hair, then squeaked a goodbye and hopped into the open skylight, pulling it shut behind her.

She ignored Tikki’s boisterous laughter as she tumbled out of the purse in favour of holding her flaming face in her hands. Oh, dear Kwami gods. She was in trouble.


Adrien hopped home in a daze. A part of his mind was glad the baton was back, because that made the trip both safer from curious, prying eyes (and cameras) and faster. He was home in five minutes tops and walked right into the still running water without thinking of his clothes. Plagg shrieked as the transformation dropped off, but Adrien didn’t even give it a thought.

His hand, instinctively, had come up to protect his cheek. Water wasn’t going to wash off the feel of warm, soft lips, thank you very much. So he took off his clothes - one-handed - and showered - one-handed - and put his pyjama on and went to bed - one-handed. He only removed his palm from his cheek when Natalie came in to wish him goodnight, and asked if he had a toothache.

He stared at the ceiling of his room, cradling his cheek again. Plagg, who he’d been ignoring since they returned both as a form of retribution and also because he did not seem to have the brain capacity for anything but holding his cheek, finally landed on his chest, demanding attention.

‘Marinette likes me,’ he muttered to the expectant kwami. It had been the only thing rattling through his brain as he staggered around his room, doing things on autopilot. His classmate’s strange behaviour throughout the months they’d known each other had always bothered him - a bit like a fly buzzing around the room. It didn’t hurt you, exactly, but it did really tick you off. And finally, he had an answer, a solution, and it seemed so obvious now that he couldn’t understand how he’d not seen it before.

‘Oh, you noticed,’ Plagg replied. Smug little bastard.

‘You did that on purpose,’ he frowned at the kwami. ‘That wasn’t nice, putting her on the spot like that.’

‘You’re assuming she knows it’s you under the mask.’

‘She likes Chat Noir too,’ Adrien corrected him. Then, looking at the ceiling again and smiling a bit like a goofball, he said, ‘She likes me.’

‘Humph. And you say I never do anything for you,’ the Kwami said, curling up and and going to sleep on Adrien’s chest. But not even the tiny cat-god’s purring could soothe Adrien tonight; not when his heart was beating so fast.

Marinette liked him. Sure, he was sure a very large part of his heart belonged to Ladybug but … Marinette liked him. A girl he knew, who knew him, who went to class with him every day and saw him goof off and be good in class and nerdy in physicis and get his arse handed to him in fencing and… she was amazing too. Smart, creative, so good as class pres, generous. Pretty. Very, very pretty.

Oh wow. Oh, ok, oh wow. He also, apparently, had a crush on Mari. Who liked him. All of him. Heck, she’d called him gorgeous.

Adrien squeaked and buried his face in his hands turning over and curling up. He ignored Plagg’s grumbling as the Kwami settled against his chest again. He ignored the fact that his purring sounded smug.

Marinette liked him. He liked Marinette. Adrien suddenly realised that he’d unwitting stepped into his fist school romance, just like in all those anime he’d watched.

It was a long time before he went to sleep, his heart beating fast and a smile on his face that made his cheeks hurt in the morning.

Maybe Marinette would come to watch a movie with him?

Plagg, the smug bastard, just flicked his newly-reacquired tail in satisfaction, privately hoping Tikki had enjoyed the show as much as he had.


Unlikely Comforts, Angelica Schuyler x Reader

Prompt: Write-a-Thon Day Two: Femslash!

Word-count: 1,235

Warnings: I don’t remember if I cursed. I don’t think I did, but this is just for precaution’s sake. 

Note: I keep writing angst someone stop me my god. Bi!reader for this one right here, just putting it out there.

Welcome to day two! So far so good. Enjoy the angst!

It was Eliza’s day, not hers. Angelica was a lot of things, but a fool was not one of them.

She had managed to survive through the preparations, a long ten weeks of it, without showing an inch of the despair that was twisting up her stomach so badly she felt like she could wretch, that same despair that was simultaneously pushing down on her chest and pulling her heart up, the tug of war so violent she wondered how her soul had kept its shape. But surviving the day was another story.

It was Eliza’s day, not hers. Eliza’s and Alexander’s. And Angelica was nowhere near the equation; she was playing the extra today, and she both loved and reviled it. (She loved it because she couldn’t imagine being part of whatever this was. She couldn’t bear to ruin her beloved sister’s day with her emotional tribulations.) (She reviled it because, as much as she knew how wrong it was, she wanted to be part of it. She wanted to be the main role. The only role. She wanted to stand were Eliza stood, play the part of the blushing bride, hold Alexander’s hands and call him hers, for now and forever.) (But if you made Angelica pick, she’d play the role of a loving sister above the blushing bride any day.)

“What do you think?” Eliza asked now, spinning around in her white dress, as radiant as fresh sunlight and clean air. The sight of her sister so happy, so beautiful, made the ache in Angelica’s chest subside. If it would make her dear Eliza this happy every day, then she would make this sacrifice.

“You’re gorgeous ‘Liza,” Angelica said, smile sincere. She stood up from her place on Eliza’s bed and hugged her sister tight.

This is fine, she thought, letting go of Eliza and beaming, happily agreeing to help her with her veil, I will get through this. For Eliza.

The ceremony was beautiful.

The church was awash in the light of the new spring morning, the air sweet with the scent of fresh roses, and Alexander made a dashingly handsome figure at the altar, his somewhat smug face absolutely melting at the sight of Eliza, who walked in as if carried by a heavenly breeze. (The pang that crossed Angelica’s chest stung like a bolt of lightning. She, as always, ignored it.)

Vows were exchanged, and Alexander regaled them all with his poetry, eyes always on his bride, who in that moment, Angelica knew, was falling in love with him all over again. She knew; she felt the same way.

A blink of an eye and it was all over; the new man and wife kissed, and they sped back to the manor for the reception.

She had to blink past the sea of memories that arose as she raised her glass in a toast, the flicker of light that passed over her mind’s eye that made her recall the cold, bitter months of her and Alexander’s first meeting, of Alexander falling over his feet as he caught sight of her sister, of Eliza fluttering around the house in a twitterpated haze following the delivery of a fresh batch of letters. The harsh months of pretending, the act she had to play, the fake smiles and even faker bouts of glee whenever Eliza read from the letters aloud. (She had her own letters, stashed underneath her bed, but she wasn’t so stupid as to hope. She had comparisons, anyway; Alexander’s letters to her were no near as romantic as Eliza’s. Alexander was poetic by nature, but there was an undeniable caress to the words he penned for Eliza (he called her Betsy, privately), an almost tangible level of care to every syllable.)

She wished her new brother-in-law happiness, and almost immediately found her way to the bar. It took everything in her to not collapse on the bar top, but she was a woman, and if anything, she knew how to act like one.

There was a rumble of glass on wood, and something cold touched the Angelica’s elbow. She looked up.

It was Y/N. “You look like you need a drink,” she said, smile wide and full of mischief. Angelica looked down at the thing that bumped into her and laughed; it was a full shot of what looked like rum.

“I wouldn’t touch much of the liquor if I were you,” Angelica replied, but she picked up the glass anyway and upended it with ease.

Y/N looked impressed, and her expression steeled Angelica’s resolve for some reason. They took a shot each, exchanged small talk for a while as the festivities continued around them in a large multicolored blur.

Y/N was the daughter of a well-decorated army official, high up within the ranks of the Continental Army, astonishingly beautiful, and for some unknown reason, unattached and single. Angelica never understood that, although she herself was also of marrying age and famously not taken; Y/N just seemed to never find the right one for her. (There were rumors, of course, that Y/N had a sweetheart in the army that she had her heart reserved for, that that sweetheart’s location was now unknown, and that it broke the poor girl’s heart so beyond repair that her many suitors went on ignored.)

“I can’t seem to love weddings,” she was saying, she and Angelica on their third little glass of rum. Angelica felt warm, but not drunk. She knew her own limit, and she knew she would be stopping at three drinks.

“Me neither, my friend.” Angelica agreed, almost sardonic.

“Well,” Y/N said, and maybe it was the drink and maybe it was the lights, but something made her honest, “you can’t have liked this wedding. You are in love with the groom, are you not?”

Angelica felt her stomach drop to the soles of her shoes. “I love Alexander, truly. He is now my brother after all—“

Y/N waved her words away like they were some great cumbersome fly. “There is no need to hide your true feelings, Angelica. Heaven only knows that you must’ve been suffocating yourself under the weight of all the smoke and mirrors.”

A pulse of anger sped through Angelica. “Don’t talk as if you truly know me, Y/N.” she said, not helping the spite that made its way into her speech.

Y/N fixed her with a look so hateful that it shot right through her and heated her up from the inside.

“If there’s anything we have in common, Angelica, is that we both know of want.” Y/N said, looking her straight in the eye. “I see it in your face.”

Angelica turned away then, something that felt an awful lot like shame simmering in her chest.

“I know of want, Angelica.” Y/N said, and Angelica glanced at her again. She was no longer facing her; instead her eyes were fixed somewhere else. “I know of want very well.”

Angelica followed where Y/N was looking off too, and found her dear sister, laughing amongst a sea of faceless guests. Sharply, she turned back to the other girl, whose face was so honest and openly heartbroken and Angelica felt like gazing upon her was an act of voyeurism.

She looked away once more, eyes landing on Alexander, cutting his way through the crowd to get to Eliza.

Perhaps she was not alone after all.

(Tag list: @alexanderhamllton, @manuelmiranduh, @daveeddiggsit, @hamilbye, @diggs4life, @hamilsquad-writings, @imwritingmywayout, @jamiiton, @jordanfishest@musicalmiranda, @myalexanderhamiltonjustyouwait, @ourforgottenboleros, @protecting-my-legacy, @sarsarmadden, @secretschuylersister, @sunshinemiranda)

Tastes Like Heaven

Written for Kari’s Christmas Quickie Challenge @thing-you-do-with-that-thing. I choose Dean x Reader with the song “It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas.” Hope you like this one! 

Word Count: 2040

Warnings: Language, smut, a little fluff and Dean eating pie (yeah, it really is a valid warning), oral sex (male and female receiving)

Aesthetic made the lovely and talented @thing-you-do-with-that-thing! Thank you so much! It is beyond perfect!

Dean Winchester had rescued you and your stranded car about six months ago. He owned the only auto shop in town and when you called for an emergency tow, color yourself happy, surprised and more than a little turned on, when this hunk and his dazzling green eyes showed up. You had been expecting a guy named Tiny who was anything but. But what you got was this, this, guy with a body built for manual labor and lips built for sin.

It was no surprise to you, when he told you that the repairs would take a little longer than he anticipated, that you were secretly glad. It gave you an excuse to stop by his shop every day to check on the progress and see him leaning over your hood, covered in sweat and grease.

One week later, your car was done and although you were relieved to have your ride back, you were disappointed that you wouldn’t be able to see Dean anymore. So you decided to do what you do best. Be bold and make the first move.

“Winchester Brothers?”

I would know that voice anywhere. “Dean? It’s Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

“Um-ah-hi Y/N. How’s your car running? Is everything okay?” He sounded nervous as fuck.

“Hi, Dean. It’s running great, purring like a kitten. I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?’

“Yes!” he yelled into the phone, a little excited. He paused, then answered, slightly more chill than before. “Um, yeah, sure, Y/N. I would like to have dinner with you tomorrow.”

“Great! You’ve got my info. See you at seven.” I blurted out.

“Seven sounds great, Y/N! See you tomorrow.” I hung up the phone and did a little dance.

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Vanoo. 3787 words.

Prompt: someone in the dorms makes amazing cookies and you’re trying to figure it out and walk in on me baking at four in the morning au (x)
(Set in a university/college AU)

“Oh my God Evan you’ve got to fucking try these!” Delirious practically moaned at him the second Evan entered their dorm’s common room, half eaten chocolate chip cookie in hand. 

The room was mostly deserted, only Delirious and Nogla occupying one of the three couches in the room, advertisements quietly playing on the TV in the background. Delirious was hanging off the back of the couch to face him, blue eyes lit up in pure ecstasy, and Evan was beginning to wonder what exactly was in that cookie he was eating.

“Try what?” he asked curiously as he made his way towards them, watching as Nolga leaned forward and picked up a tupperware container filled with baked goods off the coffee table.

“Only the best cookies you’ll ever eat in your fucking life!” Nogla exclaimed and offered him the tub, jiggling it a little in a silent request for him to take one.

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Journal pt. 1

Summary: First day of university for a socially awkward girl and stressed boy can be weird, but even weirder when they find odd journals.
Members: Jungkook x Reader (appearances by BTS and Mamamoo)
Type: Angst/Fluff/ Student!AU
Length: 3,547 Words

I am soooo happy you guys liked the first chapter of O:TNO. I really hope you guys like this series first chapter as well. It is a very different feel from the Hoseok series and a bit similar feel to Rich Games, but with a very different twist to it <3

-Admin Kat

[Pt. 2]  [Pt. 3]  [Pt. 4]  [Pt. 5]   [Pt. 6]

Originally posted by jungeuks

You hated the first day of school. It wasn’t that you didn’t like school. On the contrary. You loved school. You loved learning new things and reading. But you hated change. You hated entering a new environment and meeting new people. It gave you nothing but anxiety. The thought of having to go out of your way and meet new people who could easily use you, tease you, or hurt you. It was a cringe worthy thought. That was why you had insisted on getting your own dorm room. You couldn’t handle having a roommate. Living with a stranger scared the life out of you. You needed some sort of safe space where you could unwind from the stress of the day.

That was where you wanted to be right now. You wanted to be back in your dorm room, unpack all your boxes, and settle in. You wanted to take out your laptop and start working on some of the reading for next week that was placed on the syllabus. You stared around you and saw the other students chatting with one another excitedly. Some of them clearly knew each other, probably having went to the same high school and decided to move on to university together. There were others who were talking to each other for the first time; making small talk, shaking hands, trying to find something that they had in common. And then there was you. You felt awkward in your seat, waiting for the damn orientation to begin. The faster it started, the sooner you could get out of there.

You were relieved when you saw a familiar face in the crowd. You waved over at Hwasa, happy that at least your best friend had come with you to university. “Hey girl! How are you? Are you excited for the first day of our future?” She asked in her usual, loud and excited voice as she wrapped her arms around you. You still felt it was weird being friends with her. She was the complete opposite of you. Where you were awkward, she was outgoing. Where you were quiet, she was loud. And where you were scared, she was courageous.

You envied her, and you knew that standing with her was going to make things slightly worse. If you didn’t want people near you before, they would definitely be paying attention now. Hwasa was hard to ignore after all. She was not only fun and had a magnetic personality, she was also beyond beautiful. She pulled on your arm, dragging you to seats that were closer to the other students. You didn’t fight her though. You knew it was useless to fight; she would make sure you followed her lead. She knew what was best for you.

You took your seat beside Hwasa and a random guy. You tied to quietly beg Hwasa to switch seats with you, but she shook her head; giggling as she waved at you to just talk to the boy. Yu turned your head towards him and tried to smile. The boy smiled brightly at you, having a puppy face that helped to calm you. “Hi, I’m Taeho,” he greeted you as he held his hand out towards you.

You reached your own hand out to take his. “I’m (Y/N). It is nice to meet you.” You shook his head awkwardly, pulling back quickly. A confused and partially hurt look crossed his face. You felt bad when you saw the look, but it was too late to take it back and it would just make it weirder to apologize. Instead, you just turned your attention to the front of the room. The man who you assumed to be the President of the University was taking his place at the podium to begin his introduction.

You stopped paying attention as he began to drone on about all the possibilities and opportunities the university had to offer to all of their incoming students. He told you all how ‘proud’ he was to see such bright students adding to the prestige of the school and how excited he was to get to know every single one of us. You looked around the room of well over five hundred students; and that was just for this orientation day. There was still the rest of the week for orientations. Yes, get to know every single one of us. That makes sense. You thought to yourself in a sarcastic tone. Without even knowing what you were thinking, Hwasa gave you a warning look that told you to get whatever cynical thought you had out of your mind.

You smiled at her and turned your attention from the orientation to the other students. You loved to people watch. There was something about studying people and trying to figure them out that you just loved. You knew you would probably never get the courage to talk to them and find out if your hypothesis was right, but you were okay with that. After all, sometimes your imagination could be twice as fun as reality. For instance, the girl who sat two seats in front of you. She was a small girl, both in height and in size. She was talking to another girl beside her, almost the complete opposite appearance wise. The girls had matching bracelets, probably meaning that they were best friends or a couple. The small girl was nervously picking at her sweater sleeve; most likely her first time away from home. And the bigger girl was letting her knee bounce up and down, not seeming to notice her own nervous habit. You were already coming up with their backstories of best friends who decided to escape their small home town for a big university.

Then again, you could be completely off and they could just be friends or a couple who are excited and anxious to begin their new journey together. But that was the fun of the game. You looked behind you and noticed a boy who walked in late. He had his bag slung over his shoulder, walking in without a care in the world. He looked around, noticing some of his friends, and nodded his head towards them. You followed his gaze and saw a large pile of boys and girls who nodded back at him or swooned at his mere glance. A popular boy? Already? You asked yourself as you thought about how someone could become popular in the first day of university. Unless they all came from the same school and he had been the popular one there. Either way, the boy was odd to you. It was hard to read him. At the initial glance, you could assume he was a bad boy. But judging from the style he dressed, the way he didn’t disturb the orientation, and the amount of people who seemed to like him, you couldn’t assume that anymore.

Maybe a jock? He was definitely muscular enough for it. But at the same time, his baby face didn’t really read someone who did a lot of athletics. More of just someone who worked out. The way his muscles formed on his body, you would assume maybe a swimmer. Or a dancer? But there weren’t a lot of guys you knew who did dance. You stared at him for a moment longer before you noticed the odd look that the boy who was directly behind you was giving you. That’s when you remembered that you were sitting near the center of a sea of students. You snapped back in your seat so you were facing the front of the room once again. You felt your cheeks becoming extremely red and prayed that no one else took notice to you. That would be a nightmare.

“Do you want to head to the dorms so you can start unpacking and meet me for dinner? I still have to meet with my roommate. Sorry again that we couldn’t room together.” Hwasa said as soon as the orientation let out. You nodded your head. You didn’t blame her. She hadn’t applied to the school until after you were already accepted, and it wasn’t like she would want to room with you. Sure, the two of you were best friends, and she would never say it, but you knew that she wanted to experience the whole of university. And that would include rooming with a new person and getting to know your roommate over the year that you spent together.

You waved off her apology. “Hwasa, you have nothing to apologize for. I prefer having a room to myself anyways. I need time alone once in a while.” You reminded her sweetly. She scoffed but nodded her head in understanding.

“Just remember that there are other people who probably like the same things as you. Try and get out and meet them, yeah?”

You waved her off once again, turning towards your dorm building and heading off. You heard her yell out that she loved you, and you yelled it back to her without turning to face her. No matter what, that girl was your best friend and you wouldn’t have asked for anyone else, but sometimes she was just so pushy when it came to you not really getting to know others. It wasn’t your fault. You just had too much anxiety. Everything made you stress.

You tried to shake the thoughts out of your head as your chest began to pound again. Hell, even the thought of your anxiety gave you anxiety. You hated this about yourself. You had hoped that it would pass once you were in college; maybe you would finally be able to return to the person who you used to be before your senior year of high school. But it didn’t seem that way. It only seemed to get worse now that you were surrounded by tens of hundreds of strangers.

You reached your room quickly, placing your headphones on and walking briskly cross campus. You noticed several students hanging out around campus and chatting and throwing Frisbees. It almost made you want to go and try and hang out with them, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Each time someone made eye contact with you, you would quickly drop it and scurry off like a kid caught somewhere where they didn’t belong. Once you reached your dorm room, you were greeted by several overly preppy resident hall assistants. They were eager to greet the fresh batch of freshman, but you were having none of it. You nodded your head politely towards them, but never took your headphones off.

You keyed yourself up to your room and locked yourself away. You took your headphones out of your phone and let the music continue to play and fill the room. The sound of chatter out in the hall was blocked out by your music, and you felt a bit empty inside. You hated that you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to others. But after some of the things that had happened, you figured it was understandable. Or at least justifiable.

With a sigh, you tried to remind yourself that you were trying. It was the best you could do. After all, like your psychiatrist said before you left, you just need to find the right time when you are comfortable to ease out of your bubble. Until then, you would just have to deal with the fact that you were an antisocial, awkward girl. With that thought in mind, you began to unpack your boxes. You placed all your belonging out. Placing each item in their perfect spot. You tried to place things as close to the spot where they had been in your room as possible.

As you were unpacking the many boxes, you found something that was clearly out of place. When things changed, you were quick to notice it. You held up the weird journal and stared at it. It was a normal black journal, a small lock on the front that seemed to open only from a key. You looked around in the boxes, finding your curiosity getting the best of you. You didn’t remember packing anything like this, but you figured maybe your mom snuck it in as a way for you to ‘ease out of your bubble.’ You finally found the small key at the bottom of the box in the corner.

You brought the journal over to your neatly organized desk and took a seat. It was strange. The cover felt like leather, but it was very clearly not. There was no engraving on the cover or back, no sticker from where it had been purchased, not even a manufacturer name. Just plain black on the front and back. The spine hard the numbers 1159 engraved on it. You slowly unlocked it, feeling a tingling in your hands as the small lock clicked and the book sprang open. Inside the pages were pure. A perfect white that looked as though it was too perfect to mark up, but yearning to be occupied.

You picked up one of your many pens and clicked it so the tip was revealed. Your hand hovered over the perfect page for a long moment. You didn’t know what you were going to write, but something was tugging at you to write anything down.

Dear journal,

I hate myself. I hate that I am awkward. I hate that I get anxiety over the thought of talking to someone. I hate that I hate my best friend. I hate that she is outgoing, smart, funny, beautiful, talented, and that things come so easily for her. I hate that no one understands me except her. I hate that I almost threw that away for one person. I hate that people think I’m a freak. I am a loser. And they are all right.

You stared down at the words you had written and felt a small weight lifted off your shoulders. As dumb as you thought journals were, you also found it a bit relieving to be able to empty your thoughts and burdens onto it and not have to hear any sort of judgement. You closed the journal and placed it on the far corner of your desk. You took the key off out of the small lock and slipped it onto a thin chain you had in your jewelry box and placed it around your neck. It hung just low enough that you could keep it hidden under your shirt.

“(Y/N)! This is Wheein. She is my roommate! Wheein, this is my best friend, (Y/N).” Hwasa introduced you to the other girl as soon as you reached the dining room table. The dining hall was jam packed with the new students, already finding their groups and niches. You were relieved that you already had someone, so at least you wouldn’t be the weirdo who was looking for a spot to sit and having to settle on taking your food back up to your room to eat alone.

You shook hands with the new girl, but she just pulled you into a tight hug. Right off the bat you could tell why she and Hwasa would get along so well. You patted her on the back as she hugged you, not really sure what you were supposed to do. She just laughed, letting you go and taking her seat next to your best friend. You sat on the other side of the table from them, and it was a bit awkward already. The two of them jumped right into a conversation, having picked it up where they left off before you joined them. You listened to them as they discussed some of the things they wanted to buy for their room to make it feel more like a joint home between the two of them. “Oh! We could buy the- ”, “Yes! I was just thinking that!” They said over one another; able to tell what the other was already going to say.

As they spoke, you felt your attention being drawn elsewhere. It was odd being at a table with two people who had something in common and you were now the odd one out. So you fell back on doing what you always did. People watching once again. Your eyes scanned the crowds, trying to find something that would catch your attention. That was when you noticed him again. It was the same boy from the orientation; the one who came in late. He was sitting amongst the boys who had nodded at him. The seven of them sat in a table that was surrounded by girls and other guys. The boy with the baby face was at the center of the table, telling them all something that completely stole their attention; as well as yours.

You watched the way his mouth moved as he talked, noticing how it was slightly slanted to one side in a way that was almost unnoticeable. Also the way his nose seemed to scrunch up as he laughed and he appeared almost bunny like. As you watched him, he looked up, meeting your eyes for a brief second before you dropped your gaze quickly. You looked back at Hwasa and Wheein. “Um, so… what kind of things are you into, Wheein?” You asked as you tried to join the conversation. To your relief, she was a lot like your best friend and was completely at ease with adding you to the conversation and went on and on about the hobbies she had. As she spoke, you listened diligently, but every now and then, your eyes would flick back to the boy at the table.

You cursed your insomnia. Just as you did every night. You hated the fact that you could not sleep properly, no matter how much you tried. It was almost midnight and you still had to get up early tomorrow to help Wheein and Hwasa with some of the projects they had for their dorm room remodeling. You didn’t know why you offered to help so early when you knew that you wouldn’t be getting a lot of sleep, but you had just wanted to help them.

You glanced over at the clock. 11:58. You let out a sigh and brought yourself up to your feet. You walked around your room, wanting to try and tire yourself out or something. As you walked, you kept finding yourself being drawn towards your desk. Your eyes trailed down towards the journal that sat on the desk. You didn’t really want to reread what you had written. You were having a good evening and the last thing you wanted to do was remind yourself how depressed you had been early today. But something was drawing you towards it.

What would be so bad about reading it again? You asked yourself as you finally settled into the desk seat and pulled the chain over your head and unlocked the journal. 11:59. The clock read now. As you opened the journal, you noticed something strange. It wasn’t your handwriting on the first page. Instead, your typically neat, almost OCD straight words were replaced by hurried pencil strokes. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you stared down at it and began to scan the words.

Journal, or log, or whatever,

Hey. So, I don’t know why I have this, or why I am writing, but I found it and figured it would be something I could use to work in. Um, clearing my head. I guess… I guess this is the start of my future. First day of university orientations and already my name proceeds me. The boy who is supposed to be good at it all. Just like in high school, right? But I’m not that kid. I’m not good at everything. And trying to be… well, it is just stressful. It’s a lot to be asked of one person. But how would it look if I just gave up?

The words scattered the page, the small spaces in between lines being taken up by quick doodles of anime characters, dragons, flowers, and other really nice designs. You stared at the paragraph again, rereading it and looking around your room for your journal. You didn’t know how you could have possibly gotten a journal swapped with someone else’s when you hadn’t even moved it from the corner of your desk. You closed it and reopened it. The same words covered the page. It was the same journal you had this afternoon; the same numbers etched onto the spine and the same key opened it. Did this mean that someone had your journal? You asked yourself. You closed it again. 12:09. When you opened the diary once again, you were greeted by your familiar handwriting. You blinked a few times, rubbing your eyes and rereading what you had written earlier that day.

Okay, maybe it is time to force yourself to sleep. You’re going crazy. You concluded as you relocked the journal and placed the key back around your neck. But even as you began to drift to sleep, you couldn’t help but think about the strange paragraph you thought you read.

Please let me know what you think of this chapter so I know if I should continue the series

Reunion (Part 1) - (Reader x Auditore Family)

What is this? Reader Insert series about living in an apartment building full of the characters from Assassin’s Creed in a modern setting. A guilty pleasure series tbh. Not gonna lie.

A/N: Long time no update! Whoooooooooops. Here, have some family feels with the Auditore family!


“What’re you doing?” Claudia demanded over the phone. “Are you busy?”

“Umm… “ You weren’t exactly sure how to answer the question. It was Christmas and since things had gone sour in your life only recently, you hadn’t planned on having a very good holiday. It was just for this year, you would allow yourself to be miserable on what was meant to be the happiest of days for many people only for this year. Just once. “I um…”

“You don’t sound like you have any plans.” It wasn’t a question, just a very blunt statement. “Good; I need a favour. Can you spare a couple hours for me?” You weren’t sure where Claudia was, but it sounded loud and extremely busy. It sounded like a lot of Italians conversing all at once, laughing and having a good time. Your heart warmed at the idea of having a big family event like that, but it would never happen for you. Your family wasn’t like that. “Amica?”

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#344: 'Can't Forget The Time Or Place'

How Long Will I Love You: Can’t Forget The Time Or Place- One Shot #344

+past one shots

 No visuals. 

Song(s): Bloom- Paper Kites & I’ve Just Seen A Face- The Beatles (cover)

Italicized text is meant to be flashback/past scenes.

“Daddy, I heard something! I did! It was a really loud bang!”

Harry sighed, shutting his daughter’s closet door and pulling a hand through his hair as he watched her burrow further under her duvet and blankets. Her little lips pressed together and jutting out, looking like she was testing him. Ready to bring on the tears if she needed to.

“Baby, there’s nothing in here to get you, I promise. It’s just the wind and the rain, okay?” Harry blinked the sleep from is eyes, still trying to rouse fully from the being jolted awake by panicked shaking of his shoulder and tiny, whimpered, ‘Daddy! Daddy, come here!’ The rain and wind were beating relentlessly against the windowpanes.   

“No it’s not!” Darcy whimpered, clutching his old teddy that had become hers tightly. “What if someone’s downstairs?” Harry sighed again, and tucked the blankets up tighter around her shoulders.

“No one’s downstairs, darling. I went and looked just now. The doors are locked, no one can get into the house, okay?” He kissed her forehead. “Go back to sleep for awhile. It’s okay. I’m sorry it scared you. I love you.”

But she latches onto his sleeve and he knows he’s done for.

When she or any of the kids were just babies, you and him would bicker constantly when it came to the kids and getting them to sleep. It had always been a source of great debate.

Harry was a cuddler. And his children were no exception. You wondered why you’d even bothered with cribs when they were small, because if he’d had it his way, they’d never sleep anyplace else besides on top of him. You rarely admitted it, but you cherished the times where you found them asleep together. Both of them fast asleep. Harry’s chin tucked down at the top of their head, lips parted and breathing slowly through them. Bare feet dangling off the couch, back curved to aching proportions. But your little baby –they weren’t always so little- looked so content where they were. Fingers fisted into his jumper to make sure he didn’t go anywhere. Cheek pressed down into the warm softness of his chest or belly. His hand on their back. When they cried or had bad dreams, that’s where they landed.

But snuggling kids to sleep was a danger in disguise.  

One night wouldn’t hurt.

“Please, Daddy,” she begged, and he swore she could make her eyes wider, like doe-eyed pools of green and gold. She didn’t have school in the morning. They could sleep in. What would it hurt?

“Just until you fall asleep,” he warned, lowering himself down onto the bed beside her. It was more of a warning for him than anything else. He barely fit into her bed. His feet dangling off the edge. He scooted himself partway up the headboard. She wiggled around until she was comfortable. Her head on his chest, and he wrapped an arm around her tight, pulling her petite body against his broad side. “Comfy, now?”

She nodded into his chest and he kissed the top of her head. He looked up at the fairy lights strung around the seams of her walls, acting as some kind of ethereal nightlight. It made the room glow, in a cozy and comfortable sort of warmth. Coupled with the storm raging outside, and the piles of blankets tucked over the mattress because she was always cold, it was a nice place to fall asleep.

“Daddy?” she whispered again, looking up at him. “Will you tell me the story?”

“What story, baby?”

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Minor Trust Issues *Bucky Barnes x Reader*

Originally posted by buckynsebimagines

Summary: “Oatmeal raisin cookies are the reason for my trust issues”
Warnings: Swearing & Bucky fluff plus flirting
Admins Note: Found a prompt and decided this was so Bucky Barnes, so, please enjoy this humorous one shot where yourself and Bucky aren’t together but you do flirt and like one another – if you want a part 2 of this where Bucky FINALLY asks the reader out let me know. Plus I love cocky, amusing Bucky; he is my favourite – Ro

“Oh, yes, cookies” Bucky yelled cutting off Sam and Steve, both men chuckled as Bucky strides over to the plate, a dozen or so cookies piled upon the china as Bucky picked up a cookie and examined it “are these raisins or chocolate chips?” he asked shoving the cookie in Sam’s face who shrugged, Bucky did so too and shoved the whole cookie into his mouth, chewing the gooey cookie and smiling as Steve carried on talking about some modern day thing. 

“Ugh thfjdRAISINSfhfhs” Bucky yelled, pieces of cookie flying from his mouth, Sam laughed as Bucky coughed up the cookie into the trash can and looked mildly offended at the cookies “who puts raisins in cookies? Who does that? Fucking animals” he muttered a deep glare.

“They’re just raisins, Buck” Steve laughed and took a cookie, so did Sam, both knowing who had made these cookies and Bucky watched with offensive as they ate the cookies “I think they’re great, whoever made this put a lot of heart and soul into them, you should be grateful they done this” he nodded and Bucky shakes his head.

“Whoever made these I no longer trust at all” he muttered and walked away, Sam picked up the plate and followed behind the men, chewing on another cookie as Bucky tried to walk as fast as he could away from the raisin demon cookies.

“Who keeps making cookies?” Bucky asked Natasha, she shrugged gently and pulled a cookie into her mouth, a small moan emitting from the Black Widow as she tried the cookie, Bucky eyed the cookies sceptically and took one. Natasha grinned lightly as Bucky took a tentative bite, chewing slowly as he tried to find out if it was raisins or chocolate chip, his face scrunched up in disgust.

“Why do you hate raisin in cookies so much?” Natasha asked with a bright laugh, finishing off her own cookie and taking Bucky’s, he pouted lightly; he wanted a cookie but he hated raisins. He sighed gently and shrugged “I love all cookies, cookies are great, you need to get used to these because I am requesting more” he poked his tongue out at her.

“Raisins in cookies should be a crime, it’s morally wrong, for everyone” he commented before stalking away, Natasha laughed loudly and holding the plate up to the vent where a hand came out and grabbed a handful, she giggled as Clint began munching rather loudly on the cookies.

“The cookie fairy is my favourite” Scott quips biting into a cookie, Bucky rounded the corner and looked between Steve and Scott, both of which nodded to the cookies with a deep grin; knowing they are raisin but wanting Bucky to eat one. He walked over and grabbed one, eyeing both men before biting into the cookie, chewing confidently till… he tasted a raisin and cringed strongly. Scott and Steve both are chuckling with one another as Bucky gulped down the cookie.

“Oatmeal raisin cookies are the reason for my minor trust issues” he muttered and Steve laughed loudly at him, shaking his head at Bucky, who was still grossed over the raisins. 

“I think HYDRA is the main reason for that, buddy” he patted Bucky’s shoulder who shot a look of anger, causing Scott to chuckle as he ate another cookie, mildly agreeing with Steve over that.

“Gonna have to get used to raisins” Scott tells Bucky who just sulks, sitting on a chair in front of his Ant friend “I hear a lot more cookies are coming in, raisin cookies” he grinned and Bucky frowned, he didn’t want to get used to raisin he wanted chocolate chip “you know, I’ll get in touch with the fairy and get some special cookies for you, okay?” he asked and Bucky looked at him, curiosity creeping up on Bucky, Scott knew who the cookie baker was? Scott just patted his shoulder with a smile before he left the kitchen, another cookie in his mouth; Steve just chuckled lightly at him.
Steve and Bucky walked through the Avengers base quietly discussing their latest mission with one another when Bucky smelled cookies, fresh cookies being baked and he stalked ahead of Steve to find out who the mystery baker is and stopped instantly in the doorway. Frowning as he watched you grace the kitchen, flour smudged on your left cheek, different batches of cookies around you plus cupcakes. You looked up and grinned shyly at Bucky, waving as he stepped inside and watched as you stirred another cake mix, this time, red velvet.

“You’re the mystery baker?” he asked and you nodded, mentioning you bake when you are stressed or anxious, he nodded and you smiled again. He eyed a few of the cookies as Steve came in; smiling at you and you did the same back, watching Bucky as he looked at the cookies but didn’t pick them up.

“Bucky they’re chocolate chip” you smile as he glared at you suspiciously, Scott had mentioned Bucky’s distaste to the raisin cookies and you just smiled at him. 

“Fine, I swear, I’ll kill you if they’re raisin, doll” you flushed at the pet name given, pointing to a plate of cookies where Bucky sighed, grabbing a cookie and studying it closely to his face. He bites into the cookie, Steve and yourself watching carefully, he chews on the gooey cookie and smiles to himself; no raisins. 

“Okay, I trust you with my life again” you giggled then Bucky leant forward and kissed your cheek, his stubbly jaw scratching your skin plus his lips leaving crumbs on your cheek, you blushed as he pulled back and ate the remaining cookie and took another one. If you knew Bucky would kiss you for making chocolate chip cookies, you would have made them earlier and a lot more.

“…Um… well if you have a-anything else you want me to bake, let me know” you stutter and go back stirring the mixture, Steve smiling knowingly back at you, Bucky nodded and sat down opposite where you were stirring; Steve left the kitchen silently. 

“Wanna carry on making some red velvet cupcakes?” he asked through a mouthful of cookie, you chuckled and nodded “why you baking so much?” he asked curiously.

“It’s a good stress diffuser” you tell him and he nods “you should bake, start by mixing this” you push the heavy bowl to him, he chuckled and nodded; pushing his sleeve up and using his metal arm to stir the mixture for you, grinning as you ate a cookie and watched as Bucky helped get the mixture to a nice, creamy state.

(Just something a tad hilarious/ humorous. You can request; one shots and imagines by myself and Angie - Rosalee)

Bakery AUs

Since I have plenty experience in the bakery biz, here’s some AUs for you (some of them may or may not be semi-autobiographical).

  • Another bakery opens up across town, so I go and check out the competition “discreetly” but then I forget to bring cash and have to pay with my credit card and the hot clerk recognizes my last name AU
  • Apparently I sound like a chick on the phone even though I’m a decent sized dude with a beard so every time I answer it people call me “ma'am” and one time in particular I asked the customer for their last name to put on the order ticket and he flirted with me saying “Awww, honey, I’ll give you my last name if you want” and now I am very uncomfortable because I had to wait on him when he came to pick up the order AU
  • (this did not, in anyway shape or form, actually happen to my brother. No way, nope. Never.)
  • You asked for nut rolls and I thought you said knot rolls and this happens every single holiday AU
  • I am so used to answering the phone “Jennie’s Bakery, how can I help you?” that when my crush calls I answer the same way and totally confuse him so he panics and orders a lemon pie AU
  • You complain that the gooey butter cake is too gooey and I argue with you in the middle of the store about the definition of the word “gooey” AU
  • I accidentally say “Have a Happy Thanksgiving” to you the day before Easter and you tease me mercilessly about it AU
  • There’s another customer being a horrible douche to me over misspelling her daughter’s name on the cake and even though we fixed it immediately she’s still yelling at me and you stick around after you pay for your stuff because you’re making silly faces behind her as she rants AU
  • You work at the bar across the street and you go home at 2 AM, which is the same time I get to work, so we chat in the alley every morning about the drunk customers staggering home AU
  • You ordered macarons and I made macaroons and you proceeded to give me a lecture about French cuisine when I went to a French culinary school AU
  • I’m a fourth generation baker, you’re a fourth generation florist. We have to work together constantly on weddings and I hate you oh-so-very much but our finished products are extremely popular with Bridezillas (whom we hate more) AU
  • You ordered a cake with a marriage proposal written on it and the next time you come in you’re super depressed AU
  • I’m sent to a baker’s convention and you’re the cute person handing out pastry samples on the con floor and you’re starting to get annoyed that I come over every time you get a fresh batch AU
  • You make a joke about how if you worked here, you’d weigh 400 lbs. and I’m so sick of that joke after hearing about it for five years that I snap AU
  • I’m new and I’m trying to maneuver 100 pounds of bread dough and since I am a tiny person I need  help from you because you’re 6'4” and can lift over twice that AU
  • I messed up a batch of bread but you eat it anyway to make me feel better and make yourself sick so you have to leave work early AU
  • We made plans to hang out after working the day before Easter but we both pulled 70+ hour holiday work weeks so we end up sitting on your couch eating cheezits and watching Cake Boss and falling asleep all over each other AU
  • I’m the only one who actually cares about your enthusiasm on the chemistry of baking so I constantly get in trouble from our boss because I sit in the back listening to your excited ramblings about the importance of creaming the butter before you add eggs instead of icing cakes AU
  • You took off work on a Saturday (again) because you said you were sick and I’m so mad at you for skipping work on the busiest day of the week that I go over to your place intent on proving that you’re not actually sick but you’re running a 103*F fever and half delirious so I end up staying and nursing you back to health AU
  • None of the women who work on the store want to wait on the sexist douche, a regular customer that we’re all convinced is a pimp, and one time he comes in and I’m the only one there so you burst out of the back, butcher’s knife in hand, to glare at him imperiously while I get him a dozen glazed doughnuts AU
    (this one is definitely inspired by real life, by the way. We do have a customer like this and my father will stand in the store when he comes in and watch every move he makes)
  • You’re  from another region of the country so you keep asking for things that I have no idea what they are (“Bismarcks? Isn’t Bismarck a city?!”) and you’re getting increasingly frustrated and then I just start messing with you because I’m mean AU
  • I totally lied about my baking experience when you hired me but you’re so desperate for help that you can’t bring yourself to fire me so I have to learn how to make meringue when I can’t even turn on an oven and I end up overwhipping the egg constantly and so we have to pull an all-nighter to get this huge order done together AU
  • I say we “ice” cakes, you say you “frost” cakes and we get into a huge argument while doing said action, much to the amusement of our coworkers. I win. You are irritated. AU
  • You ask me if I like the cheesecake and I say “YES I LOVE IT IT’S THE BEST” and then you call me on it because a week earlier I told my coworker I hate cheesecake so you’re trying to figure out what else I’ve lied about in order to sell the damn thing AU

Submitted By: cantlivewithoutharrypotter


So I decided to write a little something based on this:

Jay looked down at his daughter and smiled, “Alright Leah, you ready to do this?”
Leah looked up at her father and grinned, “Yeah daddy!! What do I gotta do again?” She asked.
Jay chuckled and said, “Remember? Pappy just baked a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies, you’re gonna go in there and steal one when he’s not looking.” He reminded her.
“Oh yeah, okay I’m ready daddy!!” The four year old exclaimed enthusiastically.
Jay reached down and grabbed her hand, leading her to the kitchen.
They got outside the door, and he crouched down next to her, and said “Alright, baby girl when we go in there, pappy’s probably gonna notice us, so I’m gonna distract him, and that’s when you make your move.”
The little girl nodded and said, “Okay, daddy!”
They entered the kitchen, and sure enough Carlos looked up at them and smiled, “Hey babe, hey sweetheart.” He greeted.
“Hi pappy!” Leah responded and looked up at Jay and giggled.
He winked down at her and walked over to where Carlos was standing. He looked at the counter behind him, looking for something to distract him. He saw a half cup of milk sitting there. Perfect, he thought, and proceeded to “accidentally” spill it.
“Oh, no.” He exclaimed, gaining Carlos’s attention and causing him turn around.
“Really Jay, can’t you be more careful.” He said sighing and grabbing some paper towels and sopping the mess up.
“Sorry, babe.” Jay said watching as Leah scooted over to where a tray of cookies was sitting on the kitchen island. She carefully reached up and grabbed one, quickly hiding It behind her back, as Carlos turned around to throw the paper towels away.
Leah got a huge grin on her face, and looked extremely proud of herself.
Jay couldn’t help but smile, and then said to her. “Hey, Lee, why don’t you go let Dude in? I think I heard him barking.”
Leah nodded her head, knowing her father was giving her an excuse so she could leave the room and eat her cookie.
“Okay daddy I will!!” She said rushing out the door, making sure to also say bye to Carlos.
As soon as she was gone, Carlos turned to Jay and sighed and said, “You know, you really shouldn’t be teaching her to steal.”
“Wait, what? You know? How?” Jay questioned.
Carlos rolled his eyes and said, “You honestly think I don’t count the cookies I make? Especially when living in the same house as you.”
“Oh yeah, but why didn’t you say anything then?” He asked.
“Because, she looked so proud of herself, I couldn’t crush her pride.” Carlos said, and then added, “You’re lucky I love you or I’d be more angry with you for teaching her to steal.”
“Relax Carlos, it’s not like I’m teaching her to rob a bank, and I love you too babe.” Jay said, wrapping his arms around Carlos, pressing a kiss to his lips.
“Yeah, yeah, I love you.” Carlos said smiling.
At that moment Leah chose to come back into the room, and having heard the last thing Carlos had said, piped up and asked, “Do you love me, too?”
Carlos pulled away from Jay and walked over to her, and picked her up, “Of course, I love you baby girl. But I need to ask you something, you see, I thought that I made 15 cookies and for some reason, there’s only 14 on the tray. Do you know what could’ve happened?”
Leah smiled up at him and giggled, “I don’t know pappy, maybe daddy stole a cookie.”
“Yeah, you know what, I think you’re right Lee, it was daddy.” Carlos said turning to Jay and smiled at him.
Jay walked over to them and pressed a kiss to the top of Leah’s head and one to Carlos’s cheek, “Okay, you guys got me! I did it!” He said smirking at Carlos.
“Hm, well I think he needs a punishment then, what do think, Leah?” Carlos asked her.
“Yeah! Let’s tickle him, pappy!” She said, grinning wide.
“Oh, no! Not tickling! Anything but that!” Jay exclaimed, mock-being afraid.
“It’s too late, babe you shouldn’t have stole one my cookies!” Carlos said, as he stepped forward and he and Leah started tickling him.
Leah’s giggles bounced off the kitchen walls, as the tickled Jay and just all had fun and enjoyed each other.

Nothing Like Us (Jungkook x OC)

Originally posted by jinkooks

[A/N]: I decided that I should start dropping my updates on the blog day after day, but then as I finished the next chapter of Partner in Justice, I so happened to write something else as well. So, aside from the Partner in Justice update.. here’s this other thing that I wrote. Hope you like it!

Summary: Jungkook was never really fond of girls, and neither was she fond with boys. But the two of them seem to be a perfect match for each other because there was nothing like them.

Word Count: 9,726 (gosh darn that’s a lot, probably the longest I’ve written for a one shot)

Jungkook was never really good with girls.

Jungkook was the most awkward human being when it came to interacting with someone of the opposite sex. It wasn’t like he just didn’t like you, it was more of the fact that he was a social introvert who has trouble meeting new people.. especially a girl.

Jungkook would find himself averting his gaze from a woman who probably had caught him openly staring at her, making it much more obvious that he was indeed, staring at her. Whenever he would come into contact with a girl, he would immediately swerve into another direction to avoid her at all costs. Even a girl’s presence makes him grow nervous, and his eyes would begin wandering somewhere else.

But that was what made Jungkook different from his group of friends. While most of them were bubbly, loud, and funny, he was the young one who was completely innocent and reserved. All in all, if Jungkook was perfect at anything and everything, his only weakness is actually meeting a girl.

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Sweet Tooth

Prompt: Pie shop AU, where Dean is the delivery guy, Sam is in charge of finances, reader is the baker, and Cas works the counter. And Gabe owns the place, always dropping in to mess with TFW. Oh yeah that would be cool.

Word count: 3,725

Warnings: Lots of sugar. Oh, and sprinkles!

Author’s Note: I honestly have no idea how this came to be, but it did! And I’m glad—this is my first SPN AU—let me know what you think?


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