one frame he has no crown then the next he does


for @alrightpotter who didn’t expect this but got it anyway

“Objection! The witness just perjured himself.”

Lily wanted to hit him so badly she physically had to hold herself back from doing so. “Judge, the witness is stating his name, I don’t understand how that is willingly perpetrating a lie in this court.”

Potter, already standing, smirked at the jury like they were his friends. A majority smiled back. “It says on the witness statement here” at this he waved the bit of paper at the jury, like they already didn’t have a copy, “that the witnesses name is ‘Peter Adam Pettigrew’ and not ‘Peter Pettigrew’ like the witness just claimed. Presumably the witness knows his own name, and this is clear grounds for expulsion.”

“Judge he clearly misspoke-“

“Oh so now you’re assuming on behalf of the witness, forgive me, Miss Evans but I thought you were representing the crown and not Mr Pettigrew’s interests-“

“The job of a lawyer is to respond to objections Mr Potter, and you’d know that if you ever paid attention-“

“Objection!” Potter called again, pointing at her like a child, “Miss Evans just questioned my credentials-“

Lily gripped the pen she was holding so hard she snapped it. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I miss the part where I questioned you were a lawyer? Was I not present in the event of that coming out of my actual mout-“


“Counselors!” Lupin didn’t even bang his gavel, “Mr Potter will you please sit down, it is not necessary for you to stand up every time you say something. Miss Evans, would you care to face your witness? The court does not have this sort of time for you two to dispute over every point. Mr Potter your objection is overruled.

Potter collapsed back into his chair, still staring at her, eyebrows slightly raised. Next to him Black, leaning on the back legs of his chair and with a wonky tie, was grinning, as if he wasn’t on trial for embezzlement and fraud and god knows what else. Potter was still staring at her like a dare, like he was waiting to go in again, and she wanted to hit something.

She turned back around. “Mr Pettigrew if you could state your age for the court.”

“Uh.” Pettigrew was sweating, face glossy, and leaned in to close to the microphone. “twenty-one.”

“Objection! The witness is actually twenty-one and seventy-two days and has failed to make this clear to the court.”

Lily felt all blood rush to her head, because it was month three of this bullshit, and it was to fucking hot, and there was ink on her pants, and he was so clearly trying to put on a show to entertain the jury, and it was so clearly working. “How would anyone be expected to know-“

“I know my exact age is twenty-three years and one hundred and eleven days so it’s not my fault Miss Evans that you don’t keep up to date with your personal-“

“Not all of us have so much time on our hands Potter you fucking assh-


“Oh I make time so don’t blame me-“


“Fucking God you’re being ridicul-“


“Mr Potter! Miss Evans!” and suddenly, Lily was aware of Lupin yelling, and that Potter had gotten up from his desk, and they were inches from each other, and that the jury had seen all of it. Good god, he was close, she could see each of his eyelashes. There was a slight scar across his left cheekbone.

“This is a courtroom!” dimly, Lupin was yelling, but it was as if she was hearing it underwater, and she was looking at Potter, and he was looking at her, and she fucking hated him. He knew exactly how old Pettigrew was down to the day. Probably because he knew Pettigrew’s birthday. He probably knew a lot of things about Pettigrew she didn’t. That’s what comes with being best mates with someone since you were eleven.

Sirius didn’t do it you know. He’d said that day in the woman’s bathroom, and she’d jumped and sworn and flicked sink water at him. He really didn’t. He’s being framed.

He’s your client. She’d said, washing her hands and looking at him though the mirror, that’s what you’re supposed to say.

Trust me, if Sirius wanted to commit embezzlement he wouldn’t get caught. He’d responded, leaning against the door, hair just touching the frame, arms folded.

He’s your best friend. She’d said, simply, You’re defending him pro-bono. You’re supposed to think he’s innocent.


She was thinking of how he’d said nothing, how she’d turned around and he was gone, like a dream or a ghost. Later, when he never mentioned it in court or the halls or the office where they both argued about who could use the printer, she wondered if she dreamt it. Him, the bathroom, how he’d looked at her. Almost sadly. Like he knew something she didn’t. Like he wished she knew it to.

And now of course, standing there, getting a lecture on court behavior from an exasperated Lupin, she couldn’t help but look at him again. Thinking of Black’s wonky tie and Pettigrew sweating buckets on the stand and the five-thousand dollar suit he was wearing, despite claiming to be on benefits.

Lupin was still tlking anf-for once- Potter was completely silent. Lily couldn’t stop thinking about any of it, the case, the shady camera footage, how Pettigrew said his story the same way every time like he practiced it. And oh God, Potter’s face when he’d said He didn’t do it, you know. Like he really did know. Like he had never known anything so certainly in his life. And Oh God, it was times like this, and at four in the morning when she was lying awake, where she believed him. It was times like this when she was almost sure that she was making a terrible, terrible mistake.


Pairing: Finn Balor x original character

Summary: You just want attention. I knew from the start. You’re just making sure I’m never gettin’ over you.

Tags:@neversatisfiedgirl @motleymoose @kyoukohorimiya @wrestlingnoob @ambrosegirlforever @deseraysmiththings

He jokes with me once we’re backstage, “You should come to the WWE, be with me.” Haughty. Sure of himself. Even he if is kidding, I know he means it at least a little bit.

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theblazeofmemory  asked:

Also 8: "Let's just pretend. Just for tonight." Enjoltaire ily ❤

Okay so this is part of this Fantasy From Enemies to Lovers fic idea in which Grantaire is the crown prince of a kingdom stolen to Enjolras’ royal family. They now working together to get Enjolras on the throne, but confusing feelings are getting in the way

Also this got way out of hand and ended up being 900 words long

The festivities were going full swing, but Grantaire’s heart was not in it. He felt out of place, like an intruder, watching the revellers making merry, dancing and singing, like one would look at a picture, standing outside of the frame. He could not join them, not when his father was the one bleeding them dry with taxes. Or bleeding them dry in a much more literal sense.

How could he celebrate the harvest, when he was standing on a blood-soaked soil? Fruits didn’t taste the same, now that he knew. Grantaire could feel the tinge of iron everytime he ate one, and had to swallow the guilt with every bite.

Leaning against a fence, Grantaire watched the flames of the bonfire tickling the stars. They were supposed to ward off wicked spirits that would ruin the next crops, Bossuet had told Grantaire when he had asked. They didn’t build bonfires for the harvest, back at the palace. You can’t ward off the wicked spirits when they’re already inside, Grantaire had thought bitterly.

The sounds of music and laughter were deafening. Longing for some peace of mind, Grantaire retreated towards the woods, hoping that the trees would muffle the noise. Enjolras was there, right on the edge of the forest, sitting on a stump. He stood up awkwardly as Grantaire approached, and Grantaire held his steps.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“You didn’t. I just needed to be somewhere… calmer. The smoke went to my head.”

Grantaire nodded in acknowledgement. If Enjolras had noticed Grantaire had spent the whole day avoiding him, he didn’t show any sign of it. Nothing in his voice suggested he remembered the kiss they had exchanged either. Grantaire didn’t know if he should have felt relieved or sad about it.

“I don’t want to scare you off, but that will be one of your duties when you’re king,” Grantaire teased, a crooked smile on his lips. “Presiding balls. Standing in a noisy throne room. Pretending you’re having a good time.”

“It take it that wasn’t your favourite part of being crown prince.”

“No, screw that. That’s why I’m leaving you the throne, I couldn’t stand it more than a year!”

Enjolras laughed softly at that and leant against a trunk. It was rare, seeing him laugh. Grantaire supposed being the only living heir of a royal line did that to a person. Perhaps, if Enjolras’ father was still on the throne, he and Grantaire could have grown together. Enjolras, the golden crown prince, and Grantaire, a child of the aristocracy. He wondered how different that Enjolras would have been from the one he was looking at now.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t stay here too long,” Grantaire advised. “These are your people. You should celebrate the harvest with them. Make a speech or something. People love it when their monarch has a flair for the dramatic.”

“I’m good here for now,” Enjolras answered, closing his eyes.

Knowing he couldn’t be seen, Grantaire took a couple more steps towards Enjolras, looking at his features. If it was rare to see Enjolras laugh, it was even rarer to see him so exposed, defenseless.

“That’s funny,” Grantaire said.

“What is?”

“That you’re letting me this close. If Courfeyrac knew you were alone with the rotten usurper, he’d probably shit himself.”

“You’re not going to kill me,” Enjolras asserted. “You would have done it fifty times over by now.”

“Does that mean you trust me?”

“Something like that.”

Grantaire was a couple of feet away now. Enjolras didn’t say anything, watching him approach with his arms crossed against his chest. If he wanted Grantaire to step back, he would have said so by now. There was a fleeting moment of silent between them.

“What are you thinking about?” Enjolras finally asked.

Grantaire’s chest tightened.

“About how different it could have been.”

Enjolras didn’t say anything, but Grantaire could feel the air getting thicker. Yet, he did not move. His eyes kept looking into Grantaire’s. Tentatively, as though he was afraid of being burnt, the other put a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder. The muscles under Grantaire’s fingers were tense, but there was no attempt to push him away. Slowly, Grantaire followed the curve of Enjolras’ elbow to find his hand.

“How different?” Enjolras asked, pushing him to elaborate.

“The court, the palace, the kingdom… everything. You. Me. I would have been part of the court. Perhaps we could have been friends.”

The word sounded off in his mouth. Were they even friends now? Enjolras was so close that Grantaire could feel his breath against his lips. As close as they had been last night, when Enjolras had kissed him. Grantaire’s gaze went from his eyes to his lips. For a second, Enjolras dipped closer, his breath getting warmer against Grantaire.

Enjolras pushed him away.

“It doesn’t change anything,” he said, his voice as cold as his cheeks were hot.

“Let’s just pretend. Just for tonight!” Grantaire tried desperately.

“I can’t!” Enjolras snapped back, before storming off towards the bonfires, his hair set ablaze by the light of the flames.

Carnival Rides

(A/N): I imagined this one cuter in my head but it didn’t quite turn out that way…

Pairings: BuckyXReader

Summary: Bucky loves carnivals but (Y/N) is scared of heights

Warnings: None

Tags: @sxph-t

Originally posted by lightbox

James Buchanan Barnes loved carnivals. He loved the sugary foods, happy children but most of all he loved the rides. He loved the adrenaline and thrill and he always wanted to go on the biggest ones. So, when the team announced they were going, Bucky was ecstatic but he was most excited of going on some rides with (Y/N).

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anonymous asked:

gwahhh i love your scenarios so much they're amazing !! could you do a scenario with kuroo, tsukki and iwai where their fem s/o is an insomniac? and whenever she can't sleep she does her own hobbies like baking or drawing or she just takes a walk outside etc and one night they stay over at the boys houses and they wake up to see her doing her own thing and try to coax her to go back to bed?

It slipped my mind while writing that they were only supposed to be visiting- I hope you don’t too much that they ended up living together, I’m sorry! Anyhow, this was an incredibly heartwarming prompt to write for, and I hope that you enjoy it, and thank you for your patience. :)

At age twenty five, Kuroo is a far cry from just five, which was when he last believed in monsters underneath his bed. Or perhaps they’re still there, but he’s become far too old and too boring for them to find entertaining anymore, and they’ve moved on to people who sleep more, who have fewer nightmares, who can sleep fine alone.

He hears the noise from downstairs first. It’s a soft clang, but it’s enough to pull him out of half-awakeness and his fingers curl curiously around the edge of his pillow. She’s not there, and her space is cold and empty from the exposed bedsheet.

The clang comes again, followed with a very, very quiet curse that makes the edge of his lips curl with laughter at four in the morning. It’s no clawed thing, but his own little monster he relies on to comfort him each night in their multitudes of blankets at pillows that cradle them into mutual drowsiness. Her pills lie capped on her side of the bedside table, untouched and unmoved, and he knows that this must be a special night. The stars, maybe, or the autumn chill that treads it way softly through the corridors of their small house, trailing eagerly along the warm footsteps of whoever’s awake at this time of night.

Not for the first time, Kuroo regrets not wearing fluffy slippers with bears on them when his feet finally touch the ground. He swings himself off the edge gingerly, aware of how his head fogs with unfinished sleep and the way his muscles seem to creak at him, scolding him, potentially threatening to shut down completely if he doesn’t return this instant. He goes off hunting for slippers instead, and for you, even though he knows beyond familiarity where exactly he’d find those things.

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Glassy Eyed Light of Day

Summary: Jughead is working on his novel in the Blue and Gold office and Veronica comes to him looking for a distraction. With the bribe of a shake and burger, Jughead agrees to tell her a story.

Rating: T

Genre: General, Canon Divergence, Fluff

Pairing: Jughead x Veronica

Timeline: Post Chapter Six: Faster, Pussycats! Kill! Kill!, 1x06

Word count: 2,504

“Tell me a story, Jughead Jones.”

Veronica stood at the doorway of the Blue and Gold offices at the end of a very, very long day. Her mind was in a dire need of distraction and all her friends were busy with their own little demeanours - all but the boy whose hair matched hers.

Her tiny frame leaned against the door, more casually than she felt. There was a tired smile on her lips, more as an attempt to make the situation and her words seem humorous, which they really weren’t.

Jughead’s fingers stopped typing at once. His eyes shot up to hers dazzled with curiosity, not knowing what could make the infamous newcomer visit him, let alone ask him to tell her a story.

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“What A Catch,Donnie”

Pairing: Pregnant!Reader x Daddy!Draco

WARNINGS: low self-esteemed,hormonal,pregnant reader. Mentions of depression. 

A/N- You’re pregnant again with a girl. This is a long one-shot.

You lie awake in your’s and Draco’s shamrock green, Queen-sized bed. Tears prick your eyes and your throat begins to swell. You stroke the large bump on your stomach softly while Draco’s large hands rub soothing circles into your hip and caress the bump. Resting your head on Draco’s chest, you let his steady heartbeat calm your thoughts. 

(y/n), love?” Draco asks quietly. “Please tell me why you’ve been distant lately. I’m here for you, sweetheart. I hate seeing you like this. Please.” he begs.

You suck in a shaky breath. Trying fruitlessly to hold in the tears. It ruins you bottling up all your feelings. One thick, hot tear leaves your eye and soaks into Draco’s black t-shirt. Your hands begin to shake uncontrollably and a strangled sob escapes your lips. “You can cry, sweetheart.” Draco says softly before kissing your temple.

You let it out. All the stress and self-doubt you’ve been trapping, you let escape.  Countless tears cascade down your cheeks and you fist Draco’s shirt tightly.  “It’s ok baby. I’m here.” Draco coos, and holds your fisted hands in his. Draco presses gentle kisses on your cheeks and gently runs his fingers through your (h/c) hair. 

“I c-can’t Draco.” you sob. You try to quieten; not wanting to wake up Scorpius who’s asleep in the next room. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, love.” he whispers softly.

“I’m not good enough, Draco.” you whisper. Your voice has levelled out, yet the waterfall of tears refuse to seize. “I’ll never be good enough.”

“What makes you think that, darling? To me and Scorpius you’re perfect. You saved me. I wouldn’t be here without you. You’re so kind. So beautiful, loving, caring, smart, strong, PERFECT. Don’t ever think otherwise.” he says staring into your (e/c) eyes the whole time. Sincerity and honesty reflecting in his cobalt eyes.

You sit in silence watching him. The love you feel for your family makes your heart warm. “I-I don’t want our daughter to be anything like me. What if she becomes like me? I won’t know what to do, Draco.” you confess. Your lip trembling.

“If our daughter was anything like you I would be the proudest father alive. Hell, I already am. I pray everyday that our children will become more like you. You are so important to us and our daughter will feel the exact same.” he says resting his forehead against yours.

“And…Scorpius loves and cares for you so much more.” you mutter quietly. Draco laughs softly in reply.

“You don’t think he loves you as much he does me? He’s been doing nothing but trying to ‘be a grown up’ to help look after you and get your attention these past few weeks. It’s hard on both of us to see you like this, love. We want to help you.”

You didn’t realise it. You’ve been so isolated and trapped in your thoughts that you didn’t acknowledge the important things around you. You wrap your arms around Draco’s neck and pull him into a hug where you cry into his shoulder. You hate yourself so much for abandoning them like that. Draco rubs up and down your back; while muttering sweet things into your ear. You pull back only to capture his lips in yours. 

The sound of the door creaking open causes you and Draco to break apart. You look towards the door to see a thouroughly dishevelled looking Scorpius. Rubbing his eyes tiredly and yawning adorably. “Mummy?” he says sleepily. “Are you ok….? Is-is baby ok?!” he says suddenly wide awake. You watch in shock as his little figure runs towards your side of the bed.

Scorpius stares at you wide-eyed and concerned. His bed hair sticking up in all directions like a crown. You turn towards Draco too see him grinning proudly at him.

 “I-I~” you’re speechless. 

Scorpius’ tiny body makes a few attempts at climbing on the bed but is unable to reach. You’re about to reach for him but stop after you see him look away. His bottom lip trembling. “S-Scorp…?” you ask uncertainly. 

“I won’t be able to look after you and sis, Mummy.” he mumbles, on the verge of tears. “I-i’m not big enough.” you feel your heart break. You feel so crap about yourself for ignoring him this whole time. 

You reach over the bed and lift him and lay him in between you and Draco. Grabbing his small frame, you hug Scorpius as closely as your seven month bump will allow. Carefully and slowly he wraps his arms around your middle and hugs you back. You’re in tears again. They run down your nose and cheeks. Looking up through your tears you see Draco’s handsome face holding a soft smile. You’re feeling so unbelievably loved and there’s such a fulfilling love for your family that you feel in your heart. Which previously felt so heavy with, guilt and self-doubt but is now filled with the light expanses of love and care for all of them.

“D-did I hurt you?! I’m sorry Mummy! I didn’t mean it!” Scorpius exclaims. Shuffling back into Draco once he sees the tears on your face. A look of pure horror resting on his pale face.

“No, baby, no. I’m just happy, is all. I love you so much Scorp. I’m so proud of you.” you say cupping his cheek softly.

He smiles proudly. Looking to Draco in delight. Draco ruffles Scorpius’ soft blonde hair. The exact same as his own.

“Can I sleep with you and daddy, mummy? I miss you.” Scorpius pouts softly. A tired yawn leaving his lips and causing his eyes to water. 

“Of course, darling. I’ve missed you too sweetheart.” you say while brushing the hair out of his face.

You move him again so he’s on the left of you and you’re next to Draco again. Draco kisses your lips and grins widely at you. Which you return whole heartedly.

Turning around you cuddle Scorpius’ small body. Planting a soft kiss onto his cheek. Watching as his eyes droop slowly. You feel Draco’s gentle and tentative arms wrap around you. He snuggles into your back. Resting his chin on your shoulder. One of Draco’s arms rests on Scorpius’ hip. 

Glancing back at him, your (e/c) eyes meet his icy blue ones. A happy smile rests on both your faces. “I told you.” he mumbles smugly. 

“Hm.” your smile drops slowly. Remembering the reason for not noticing in the first place. 

Self hate has always been something you’ve had a problem with. You can’t remember when it started or when you realised it but it’s always been there. You called them your ‘demons’ as a teenager. They were there for you when honestly, no one else was. Almost like the arms that catch you when you fall. Only to let you go. To laugh and taunt, trap you under their feet, as you try so hard to get yourself up off the ground without any motivation to do so. Along with all the other people in your life who hurt you. But then he saved you. Draco beared and kept away your demons as you did his. Protected each other from others yes, but also ourselves. 

(Y/N), love. Are you ok?“ Draco asks softly while kissing your cheek. His vunerable, cobalt irises reflect his perpetual love for you like a mirror.

“I love you. I love you all so much. I’m sorry for being the way I am.” you mutter quietly. Your tears are thick raindrops in a torrential storm; leaking from the blustery heavens which are your tear ducts and soaking the parched Earth that is your pillow. 

“We love you FOR being you. Never think otherwise. We’ll always be here for you.” Draco states candidly.

“I know.” you mumble. 

“Do you want anything? I could make you some warm milk with cinnamon if you’d like?” Draco asks, lifting up the covers.

“I want milk!” Scorpius suddenly wide-awake. Turning around with a hopeful smile and gleaming eyes like sun rays illuminating diamonds. Love filled laughs erupt from both you and Draco.

“That would be nice.” you say tiredly. Tickling Scorpius’ stomach evily. The sweet sounds of his giggles resonate around the room.

“Ok then love. Rest, you’ve had a long day. Come on then Scorp.” Draco says cordially. Sauntering around the perimeter of the large bed and scooping up Scopius’ awaiting body; arms outstretched and giggling like children shown a surreal magic trick. 

Giving you a quick peck on the lips, Draco takes Scorpius to the kitchen where you hear frustrated sounds and loud whines emitting from. With a chuckle and a  knowing shake of your head, you carefully crawl out of the luxurious warmth of the bed and down the icy, marble stairs.

Shoulder resting on the jutted door frame, you silently observe the events. Draco furiously stirring the curdling milk while Scorpius obviously took it upon himself to latch onto his leg. Shaking with laughter at the sight you awkwardly stumble, due to the bump, towards the counter. 

“Need any help?” you ask cheekily, watching as they both whirl around and stare at you.

“What’re you doing down here, love? And not at all. Everything’s under control.”

“I can see.” you chuckle softly. 

“Come here Scorp. Let’s go upstairs.” you say. Taking his small hand and leading him up the stairs.

Just as you’re both tucked in Draco comes in with three floating mugs of steaming milk. 

You grab yours gratefully and soake up the new source of heat while helping Scorp drink his. Draco places the empty mugs to the side while you wrap an arm around Scorpius’ body and pull him into your side and snuggle into Draco’s welcoming chest. 

Wriggling into your previous position, you let Draco’s muscular arms encase you. Experiencing the gentle feeling of protection from him. Delicately you run your fingers through Scorpius’ hair as a soothing method.

Draco’s breaths even out and Scorpius begins to drool slightly. Their peaceful, sleeping forms are the bare trees in Winter. Vunerable, stoic and silent like the deathly appearance they take when sleeping. Only the rise and fall of their chests keeping you sane.

Closing your sore eyes, you try and clear your exposed mind. With the presence of the people you love next to you, you fall into a dreamless sleep.

And as the song goes: “I’ve got troubled thoughts and the self-esteem to match. What a catch, what a catch.” 

I wrote this a while ago for someone close to me…It was just floating in my drafts so I decided to post it. 

Originally posted by couplenotes

Fate Or Just A Mistake [Part 1]

Originally posted by jiminstrash

[Part 2]

Doctor Jimin requested by: Anonymous
(I know you were more specific than that, but your request sparked this idea. I hope you like it!)

Seokjin shuffled to every corner of your apartment, mumbling a mantra of the last few items he needed to remember to bring. He picked another shirt from his closet to pack into his luggage, patting his back pocket to make sure that he had his phone for the umpteenth time. Without a word, he gently tossed the button down shirt to you, letting it fall into a clump in your lap.

“I think you have more than enough, Jin.” You said quietly, folding the shirt regardless and giving it a final smoothing with your palm before settling it on the pile of folded clothes in his suitcase.

He halted his steps, standing still in the middle of the room. His hand curled and unfurled at his side, and you knew he wanted to run a frustrated hand through his hair, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t dare mess up his perfectly styled hair.

“Are you sure I have everything?” Seokjin asked, his voice breathy from a combination of nerves and having had jogged around your apartment for the last two hours.

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up off if the edge of the bed, “Yes I’m sure.”

He walked towards you, flipping the top of the suitcase over and zipping it shut. “And even if you don’t,” You began, taking a single step closer to him and gently caressing his cheek with a hand, “It’s not like you’re going to a deserted island, it’s Singapore. If you forgot anything, you can just get it there.”

Seokjin nodded slowly, turning his head to place a kiss to your palm, “You’re right.”

“Constantly.” You added in a teasing tone, propping yourself up on the balls of your feet to place a chaste kiss to his lips.

He chuckled, hoisting the suitcase off of the bed and setting it onto the hardwood floor. He fully extended the handle, grasping your hand with his free one, “Alright, Ms. Right. Let’s go.”

Your feet fell effortlessly in time with his as the two of you walked through the apartment. You lifted your left hand, wiggling your fingers so that the large, princess cut diamond on your ring finger could catch the light, “That’s Almost-Mrs. Right to you, big guy.”

Seokjin admired the diamond, his cheeks balling as a large grin overtook his face. His eyes moved to your face as he opened the door, holding it so you could duck beneath his arm to get through, “You really like it?”

You waited until he had pulled the door closed, turned the key to lock it, and replaced his keychain into the pocket of his dress pants with a small, tinkling sound. You cupped his chin in your hand, bringing his face close to yours and brushing a passionate kiss over his lips, “I love it almost as much as I love you.”

Seokjin kept his fingers laced with yours as the two of you waited for the elevator to arrive, his thumb idly swiping back and forth along the back of your hand. There was a sudden ding, signalling the arrive of the elevator and the doors slowly parted open. There was only one person in the elevator car; a man dressed just as immaculately as Seokjin was leaning against the handrail that lined the three walls. He had hair that looked properly tousled, as if he’d run his hands through it several times that morning, and it was a vibrant sunny orange that would have looked obnoxious on most, but on him it just worked. Dark, coffee-coloured eyes watched you as a smile pulled up the corners of his mouth, “Good morning.”

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Prompt from the lovely @teacass! college, a group of friends organise Christmas dinner before they all go on Xmas break. There’s a mistletoe somewhere & of course Cas and Dean get caught up under it. This is a slight variation of your prompt and made me really emotional?? 1k. 

There is a high probability Charlie Bradbury is responsible for the mistletoe hanging in the doorway of Dean Winchester’s kitchen.

She has avoided Castiel’s eyes ever since he unknowingly walked underneath it, sending a peal of laughter around the party. Dean walked up next to him, pitching the laughter into an “ooh!” accompanied by a sea of upturned faces. Looking up in kind, Castiel saw the offending plant, heard Dean’s hard swallow – he saw it too.

His regard for Dean is not a party joke. It’s also not common knowledge; he doesn’t know most of the people here. If he makes a big deal out of this, it will only raise suspicion, so he rolls his eyes and plants a kiss square on Dean’s mouth as though it’s nothing. Then he walks away, gets a beer from the fridge, and flicks the bottle cap in the sink, his back to the room.

He’s loved Dean for six years, since Castiel’s family moved to Kansas and Dean nearly stabbed Castiel with a pencil when a transformer blew during homeroom. Dean sat with him at lunch and gave him a ride home to apologize, and became a fixture in Castiel’s day. Castiel ran track; Dean was on the wrestling and baseball teams and copied Cas’s notes when he daydreamed in class. Dean ate dinner at Castiel’s house as often as his own, and they sometimes fell asleep and woke up wrapped around each other. They double-dated for prom. Castiel watched him dance with Lisa over Meg’s shoulder, face hot when Dean caught him staring and didn’t look away. They stayed like that the rest of the song, and Castiel thought, impossibly, that Dean felt the same way about him. 

But Dean and Lisa were crowned prom king and queen minutes later. Dean kissed her in front of everyone. Castiel chose an out-of-state college and doesn’t come home except for Christmas.

Dean isn’t in love with him, and the only time Castiel will ever get to kiss him has just happened, a throwaway holiday tradition in front of drunk college seniors.

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Hey You With The Pretty Face, Welcome To The Human Race

written by: @ponyregrets | Chash

prompt: ‘nerd!Bellamy and bad girl!Clarke, where she tries to seduce him because she finds him adorable’ for anonymous

word count: 3978

Of course, Bellamy knows about Clarke Griffin. It’s a small school, and new students are always a big deal. And Clarke gets extra gossip, because her mother is the new headmistress, who’s supposed to be a total hardass. Not that Bellamy really cares about that. It’s his senior year, and all he wants to do is keep up his grades and let the one guidance counselor he found who’s actually useful help him figure out financial aid and get him into college. He’s worked hard for his scholarship, and the last thing he wants to do is rock the boat. So a new headmistress doesn’t matter to him, and he figures her daughter won’t matter either.

Especially because Clarke is, apparently, kind of an asshole. Her mom is the headmistress, so it’s not like she’s going to get expelled, which means she doesn’t give a shit about anything. She’s in Bellamy’s English, Bio, History, and Calc classes, and she sits in the back, not paying attention with the kind of practiced nonchalance of someone who wants everyone to believe they don’t care.

Or maybe Bellamy’s projecting. He knows something about pretending things don’t bother him.

Clarke smokes behind the gym and gets caught eating Niylah Harris out in the janitor’s closet. She cuts half the classes they have together, but every time a teacher asks a question, she has the answer, and every test, she aces, from what he’s seen. It annoys him, but not enough to let her take up much of his mental real estate.

And then, she plops down across from him in the library and says, “Calculus.”

“I’m busy,” he says.

“You’re good at calc. I suck at calc. I need help.”

“So find help.”

“You’re help.”

“Going to class is help,” he says, still refusing to look at her. Then she kicks him lightly under the table, and he shoots her a scowl. “What?”

“I go to calc. Haven’t missed a single class. Because I suck at calc.”

He frowns, thinking it over. She misses English, and she misses History, but come to think of it, she is always in calc and bio. She never raises her hand, and the calc teacher doesn’t call on anyone if they don’t raise their hand, so she never has to answer questions. But she’s there.

“And you’re coming to me,” he says, slow.

“You’ve got the second-highest GPA in the senior class,” Clarke says.

“And Raven turned you down?”

“Raven’s good at math.”

“Which is obviously not what you want in a math tutor.”

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close confinements: scorose au

a muggle scorose au written by my love @ehffervescent. rated T? for language etc.

Scorpius Malfoy doesn’t particularly want to leave his apartment, the one bed, one bath with mahogany hardwood floors and granite counters and a jacuzzi shower, but he has to because he’s practically disowned after he screwed the daughter of his dad’s business partner and money is tight.

He can’t find an apartment that fits his needs, and one night in an inebriated state he emails a chick about sharing an apartment and the next day he’s waking up with a wicked hangover and he’s apparently sharing an apartment with one Rose Weasley.

He stalks her on Facebook for two hours the day before he moves in. He doesn’t doubt that she’s doing the same. She’s cute, with hair that’s a mass of fierce red curls that always makes a crown around her face. She’s got big eyes and full cheeks. She has lots of friends, if the endless stream of photos in her albums mean anything. She wears pea coats and sweaters and skirts and black knee high socks and booties, and she’s cute.

Scorpius really hopes that she likes silence and red wine.

Rose hates red wine. To be fair, she’s never tried red wine, but she despises it on principle, at least that’s what she tells him when he pulls a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon 1943 out of his suitcase.

“How can you hate red wine on principle?” says Scorpius, exasperated. He’s trying to hide the red wine from Rose’s glare and crossed arms.

“It’s the implications,” says Rose, her voice lofty and she throws her hair behind her shoulder. “Red wine promotes systematic elitism.

Scorpius doesn’t know whether to laugh or scoff or break down. He ends up sticking the red wine back into his suitcase and shuts himself into his room. His bed doesn’t even have bed springs.

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anonymous asked:

A normally monotone s/o laughing for the first time

Here we have a surprise third none of you ever expected to appear! :D

2p! England/Oliver:

  • No one really knows how this relationship works, with one person brightly cheerful and the other a monotonous believer of life
  • It does, and Oliver has many sweet things to say (though no one is quiet certain if it’s true or not as you comment in the background in the most dead sort of tone. Should they laugh? Is this real? What should they DO?! Just nod and smile, boys. Just nod and smile)
  • The one thing he has never spoken about is your laughter, it’s not out of a desire to keep it to himself. Honestly, he’s just never really heard you laugh before.
  • That’s why he is so beside himself with shock when you see someone walk straight into a stop sign and laugh.
  • It wasn’t any sort of weird, broken laughter that Allen always joked about. Nor that quiet hum that he has heard from Kuro once or twice.
  • It was an honest to God laugh.
  • Pure and unadulterated as your whole frame shook, lips pulled into a giant smile, and eyes almost glittering.
  • Oliver cried and begged for you to do it again so he can tape it and show it off to everyone (you quickly switched the video with a scripted, painful laughter and watched as Oliver gushed to confused and uncertain friends. Ah. Chaos.)

2p! Japan/ Kuro:

  • Kuro and you are a surprising power couple, or as Lutz likes to say it: “the freakishly silent, mysterious couple you just know are going to murder you and rule the world”
  • It might be the eyes. It might be the silent stare. It might also be the monotonous sort of voice you both seem to answer with and watch gleefully as people wonder if this is an odd joke or you both really are just that strange.
  • One day you laughed.
  • No one knew why, one moment there was blissful chatter and then laughter.
  • It was a pleasant sort of laugh. The sort of laugh that made one pause and want to join in, to feel that same warm filled feeling of joy only laughter can bring.
  • A beautiful laugh.
  • That still didn’t stop people from wanting to ignore that single moment for the rest of their lives, and wonder (on the days when they just couldn’t help but think) if it was just a nightmarish figure of their imagination when you glimmered with joy next to Kuro.
  • Obviously if you ever laughed that happily and prettily, it must be because something had gone right, but horribly wrong for the victim (Kuro refused to mention he was showing off funny dog videos).

Nyo! Ukraine/Taras:

  • This is a relationship most are puzzled about.
  • Taras is like an overgrown puppy. Absolutely adorable.
  • So it was quite strange to see a peaceful, sort of person next to someone so… monotone, just shades of grays, you are.
  • But Taras loved you dearly, even when some of your humor went straight over his head – uncertain if you were joking or being truthful. Sometimes he got it, sometimes he didn’t. It was a long game of “I’m going to believe this until I’m proven wrong by Google”
  • The one thing Google could not help with was the wonderful, happy feeling he got when you laughed.
  • The first time it happened it was because Taras had accidentally tripped over his younger brothers dog, Marshmallow, and ended up falling face first in a comical spin of try to catch yourself with everything and everyone before hitting the floor.
  • It was a pretty laugh, the sort of laugh he wanted to listen to all day as it lit up your face, the sun in the background haloing the crown of your head.
  • He loves hearing your laughter, especially if he was the one to cause it.

cas has taken up cooking. he can spend hours in the kitchen trying out a new dish he found a recipe for or baking cakes from foreign countries. of course dean loves it. when cas is in the kitchen, dean likes to come out and crank up the music. then he sings along loudly to whatever song comes on the radio, plays air guitar and dances like an idiot. still, somehow he always ends up behind cas, arms around and singing softly in his ear to the first soft pop love song that plays.

one of dean’s favorite things in bed is kissing cas’ neck. over his collarbone, up the side of his neck, sucking on his pulse point and kissing all the way up to his ear, biting his earlobe lightly. the small moans and whimpers it cause cas to give makes dragging it out slowly all worth it.

in spring time cas likes to go sit in the green area behind the bunker. after he has started to come there flowers are blooming and dean keeps telling himself it’s silly, but he suspects the flowers have come because of cas’ presence. when he sits there dean doesn’t wanna interrupt him, so instead he watches him from a distance, ignoring sam who calls him a sap.

when dean wakes up bathed in sweat in the middle of the night, night terrors making his heart race the first thing he does is to check cas is still there and that he’s okay. cas always wakes up, like he can sense dean’s distress even in his sleep. every time cas gets out of bed and holds dean’s hand as they quietly goes to check sam is okay. dean apologizes for waking him up every time, but cas just kisses his temple and pulls him close with a “i’m not gonna let them hurt you, or sam.”

one night cas wasn’t there when dean woke up from a nightmare. he panicked, calling desperately out for both cas and sam. stumbling half asleep down the hall with scared eyes filling with tears. the second cas heard him call he came running down the hall, grabbing dean’s face to promise that he was there. dean broke down crying. “i thought they got you. i thought they had taken you away from me,” he sobbed.

for dean’s birthday cas and sam arranged a big deal. they drove out to visit jody and the girls where they had presents and cake. they even got dean a paper crown. when it got dark they had fireworks, and alex captured a moment of dean and cas kissing under the colors and put it on instagram. when they came back home dean printed it out and put it in a frame on the dresser in their room.

one night they had a case where they had to go to a strip club. one of the girls quickly saw dean as a target and started flirting. cas said it was okay, but dean just grabbed the girl by the hips and pushed her gently away, with a “no thanks, lady”. confused cas asked why he said no. “it’s okay, dean, i know you won’t stray,” he said. “but why would i want her all over me, when i got all i need right here?” dean shrugged and leaned in to kiss him in front of the whole club.

cas has plants all over the bunker. he loves plants of all kinds a lot, and both sam and dean grunts about how there’s plants on all surfaces of the entire place, but secretly dean makes sure to water them and check they’re not dying.

sometimes sam finds them curled up on the couch in sweatpants with the tv on. usually it’s dean lying down with cas lying between his legs, all entangled in each other, fallen asleep with dean’s fingers running through cas’ hair.

when cas gets badly hurt on a hunt it’s sam who has to patch him up. dean freaks out too much, scared to hurt him even more. instead he sits next to cas, holding his hand and keeping eye contact with small encouraging sentences. “come on, you can do it, baby.” “that’s my guy.” and “you’re doing so good, babe, just a little bit more.”

when cas falls asleep on long drives dean holds in to take his jacket off so he can put over cas so he won’t get cold.

after sex and they’re curled up around each other in bed, naked and sweaty and happy, cas always draws his fingers around dean’s back. dean thinks it’s all at random, but really it’s enochian protection symbols.

chuck stops by sometimes. for coffee or a beer. in the beginning dean kept his distance to cas while chuck was there. it kept ringing in the back of his head that chuck technically is cas’ dad. after it had been like that a couple of times chuck pulled dean to the side and went “it’s cool, i know.” dean was confused and asked what he was talking about, but chuck just laughed. “i’m god remember? i know everything. you think i chose cas to save you by coincidence? i knew even before you did.” across the room cas sent him a smile and dean felt nervous. “hey, if i didn’t want it happening i had stopped it long ago.” the rest of the day was awkward with dean walking around on eggshells, but when chuck was about to leave he told cas, in front of everyone; “i approve.” and then he grabbed dean and cas’ hands to put them together before snapping his fingers and disappearing. after that visit dean never left cas’ side even when chuck was there.

when cas hasn’t shaved in a while dean huffs at him “you look like a bum. like me!” with a chuckle. he jokes around about it and sam laughs. but when they’re alone and things gets heated and hips are grinding and cas has a tight grip on dean’s hair he still groans “the scruff is so freaking sexy, don’t ever shave it off.”

The front cover of Vanitas no Carte has a very intricate and awesome picture frame.

From sneak peeks at the cover of book two, and the pattern of each character having their own cover and throne in Pandora Hearts, we can guess that the picture frame has something to do with Vanitas.

Or a lot to do with vanitas.

Well, there are a lot of skeletons- human skulls and spines. Well, we do know that Vanitas dies at the end of the series, are these the phantoms of death stalking him? One of the skeletons is wearing a crown. It’s a classic royal-y crown.

Oddly the crown seems to be attatched to the skeleton’s skull with metal bars. Why is this? Does the crown represent a power or responsibility that Vanitas doesn’t want? Or was forced on him? *stares intently at the Book of Vanitas* 

The skeleton, despite the stapled on crown, seems to be smiling creepily. It’s not trying to remove the crown.

Sooo, there are a lot of flowers, some of which are chrysanthemums, lilies and roses. Chrysanthemums represent longevity and joy, and but are also known as the most common flowers at funerals. Lilies can represent innocence and purity- are these flowers really lilies? lilies have six petals, while the flowers on the chair appear to have five or six- and roses (( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)) are commonly associated with love. Yellow roses can also represent jealousy.

Some of the most recognizable items on the frame are the pomegranates. Ignoring their alternate meaning of fertility, lets concentrate on the fact that pomegranates are the fruit of the underworld. They symbolize DEATH. Also abundance and generosity.

So far we have a lot of death references- flowers, fruit, and skeletons.

But wait! There’s more!

Flowers, I mean. I have no idea what some of these flowers are, so these are pretty much uneducated guesses from here on out.

Camillas: representing passion, longevity and the divine

Dandelions: representing desire, or perhaps these are

Mimosa: love, protection, reunions, caring, sensitivity

Yep, in conclusion 90% of flowers represent love and the other 10% have fifty different definitions from 50 different flower sites. What does this tell us? Vanitas is in love. (With Jeanne.) (with noe) (With adventure.) 

There are a lot of flowers with something to do with life in the mix- longevity, death, funerals… well, Vanitas is going to die. 

The flowers are surrounded by thorns, maybe rose thorns? Thorns represent suffering and hardship. The thorn motif also seems to appear in miniature form on the skeleton’s crown. A crown of thorns- vanitas is Jesus confirmed. Well, he is the self proclaimed savior of the vampires.

Thorns have also been shown as evil cages, specifically as the prison of briars Amelia is inside/controlling in memoire 1.

Finally, there are also two butterflies on the picture frame, symbols of the soul and…REBIRTH!!! please let vanitas be immortal and/or come back to life after the hundred cycles

That’s all for the flora and fauna of Vanitas’ frame. Lets just touch upon what is in the frame- the blue moon against constellations. The blue moon probably represents the original book of vanitas’s owner, who is sort of like Vanitas’ patron saint. Whom he hates. 

Main color scheme: blue (pretty much vanitas’ signature color) with hints of purple (noe’s signature color). Blue is associated with intelligence and confidence. 

Posture: reclining, while looking directly out of the book/ into your soul. Vanitas looks pretty relaxed, although slightly hunched over and withdrawn. He’s holding the book in a way that almost displays it.

Extra Fact:

The inside cover features a young Noé against the same frame and backdrop. However, this frame isn’t Noe’s frame, because that frame appears on the cover of the second book…I think. What will the inside cover of the next book be?

anonymous asked:

Would you say evolution and science are compatible with HP? Just making sure I have the right idea here.

Religion has the reputation of being un-scientific. By its definition, religion—the believe in something one can’t prove—seems the polar opposite of science. So what of Hellenismos? Is that incomaptible with science like most major world religions? No. What I love about Hellenic mythology and philosophy is that it works with science—and the ancient philosophers agreed.

I have explained before how I differentiate between mythology and philosophy, where I feel myth was inspired by the Theoi Themselves, while philosophy was created by humans who saw society and drew conclusions from it. These conclusions often included a religious aspect because society was religious (even though the ancient Hellenes didn’t have a word for ‘religion’), but at its core, they deal not with religious matters. They deal with the influence of religion on humanity and society.

An example: the ancient Hellenic philosophers and mythographers were pretty much in agreement, however, that the Gods, indeed, created the universe—or are the universe itself. The most famous account of how everything came to be comes from Hesiod. His ‘Theogogy’ is a complete recounting of the story, starting with Khaos:

“Verily at the first Chaos came to be, but next wide-bosomed Earth, the ever-sure foundations of all  the deathless ones who hold the peaks of snowy Olympus, and dim Tartarus in the depth of the wide-pathed Earth, and Eros, fairest among the deathless gods, who unnerves the limbs and overcomes the mind and wise counsels of all gods and all men within them. From Chaos came forth Erebus and black Night; but of Night were born Aether and Day, whom she conceived and bare from union in love with Erebus. And Earth first bare starry Heaven, equal to herself, to cover her on every side, and to be an ever-sure abiding-place for the blessed gods. And she brought forth long Hills, graceful haunts of the goddess-Nymphs who dwell amongst the glens of the hills. She bare also the fruitless deep with his raging swell, Pontus, without sweet union of love. But afterwards she lay with Heaven and bare deep-swirling Oceanus, Coeus and Crius and Hyperion and Iapetus, Theia and Rhea, Themis and Mnemosyne and gold-crowned Phoebe and lovely Tethys. After them was born Cronos the wily, youngest and most terrible of her children, and he hated his lusty sire.” [ll. 116-138]
He goes on to list a great many deities, cutting out a rough shape of the cosmos while doing so. There are many variations of this family tree, and in the ancient writings, there are also creation stories that range beyond this basic framework. Many of them match very well with science, though.

I believe in the theory of the Big Bang, where the universe was in an extremely hot and dense state and began expanding rapidly. After the initial expansion, the universe cooled sufficiently to allow energy to be converted into various subatomic particles, including protons, neutrons, and electrons. Giant clouds of these primordial elements later coalesced through gravity to form stars and galaxies, and the heavier elements were synthesized either within stars or during supernovae (courtesy of Wikipedia, because of ease). I see no issue in overlaying this theory with Hesiod’s cosmology, however. The Big Bang theory does sound like first there was Khaos, and from that, matter came into being to eventually form the Earth as it is now. So as far as the creation of the universe and the Gods goes, I will go with Hesiod and his explanation, although a variation of his work is also fine by me.

As for how we came to be, I believe in evolution. I don’t think we were put on the Earth ready-made by the Gods. That said, the proposal that one type of animal could descend from an animal of another type goes back to some of the first pre-Socratic Hellenic philosophers, such as Anaximander and Empedocles, so it’s not an odd frame of mind to have for a Hellenist; even the ancient Hellenes flirted with the idea that at least animal species evolved from one another. I love the myth of Prometheus, but no, that is not how I think we came to be, although I won’t rule out that the Gods had a hand in our formation through evolution.

All in all, I think Hellenismos and science go together very well. Most (if not all) scientific breakthroughs either work with Hellenic mythology or don’t detract from it. Hellenic scientific research and philosophy often forms the base of our modern understanding of the world around us. The ancient Hellenes made great contributions to the field of ‘science’. So yes, Hellenismos is 100% compatible with science and evolution, and that is something I find very appealing.

anonymous asked:

I was wondering how varric + inquisition romances reacted to their lover somehow dying their hair a bright colour?

I really like this prompt and I could think about while writing this was @texts-from-dragonage‘s inquisitor Sylvan who has dyed their hair so many colors XD anyway I hope you all like this and sorry for the first ones not being as romantic as I seemed to make the last ones lol

Cassandra: When Cassandra heard about the Inquisitor’s color, she had hoped it was just another one of Varric’s silly rumors. Alas she was wrong though and the Inquisitor did in fact dye their hair an absurdly bright color. While she wants to be angry at them, they are a leader for heaven sake, all she could do was sigh. The color looked oddly good on them and the thought of it on anyone else was absurd. They made the new hair color work and she gives a ghost of a smile. “I don’t know how you even got it that color, but warn us next time okay? We don’t need aa another scandal with the Chantry.” She might never admit it but, she really does love the color.

Solas: He didn’t like it. Not at all. The bright color in the Inquisitor’s hair made them stand out almost more than the mark on their hand. It didn’t help them in any way. However his eyes soften a little when he sees the soft look on the Inquisitor’s face that makes their hair fit them perfectly. When he touched it, it was still extremely soft despite whatever treatment gave it its new color. Maybe the hair color wasn’t so bad afterall.

Varric: It might have been Varric’s idea but he never thought that they would do it. One of his newer books had a character with bright hair like the Inquisitor’s new hair. When he had told them about the character, he didn’t expect them to latch onto the idea and actually change their hair color. Heck he doesn’t even know how they did it exactly. While the whole thing was unexpected, it did look good on them and suited them really well. All’s well that ends well, he guessed.

Cullen: He was doing some reports on the troops when the Inquisitor charges into his room. He looks up at them and is slightly shocked. The Inquisitor’s hair was bright color that he never thought possible to be dyed. They showed it off to him proudly and Cullen could see them beaming with pride. The bright color suited them the best of ways, from appearances where the brightly colored strands frame their face beautifully and in personality where they seemed to bring out their brightness. He loved how happy it seemed to make them and he says jokingly, “do you think I could pull off that color too?” (oh Cullen you big dork)

Josephine: The advisors were all gathered in the war room for a meeting when the Inquisitor joins them, their hair freshly dyed. Josephine’s face heated up a little when she saw how well it looked on the Inquisitor. She asks them about it and accepted that they wanted a change. While she worried a little what visiting nobles might make of the change in the Inquisitor’s appearance, she didn’t think too much about it. It looked good on them and her worries subsided when she heard some nobles talking about how much they liked it and that they might do it too. The inquisitor might have just unknowingly started Orlais next fashion trend and she might have even mentioned it when she kisses them later, her fingers threaded through the bright locks.

Sera: When the Inquisitor approached them about dyeing their hair, Sera knew she had just thing to do it. As with most of the random stuff she knew how to do, hair dying was something she picked up on the streets from others and here or there. She was super excited to help them out and even helped them pick the color. Once they were done dyeing their hair, Sera smiles at the results. They looked adorable with the new hair color and she couldn’t stop smiling. She plants a kiss on their cheek and say, “it looks amazing.”

Blackwall: He never really imagined the Inquisitor would dye their hair like that but it worked for them. They visited him while he was carving a little statue near the fire and showed off their new hair color. It made him smile as it should look childish but didn’t on them. In fact it looked great on them and he told them just as much. They sat with him, leaning against his side as he worked and he could see how soft their still was even with the color. Their presence and happiness gave him a fluttery feeling in his chest he couldn’t resist planting a light kiss onto the crown on their head before continuing his work.

Iron Bull: Beautiful red hair has always been something that Iron Bull has liked but the newly dyed hair of the Inquisitor did something else to him entirely. He had never seen anything like it before but he loved it and definitely was looking forward to his next chance to pull it. The bright color seem to make the Inquisitor to be more of enchanting than usual and it was hard for him to draw himself away from the again. He leans over and whispers in the Inquisitor’s ear, “I really like the new hair, kadan.” (I have no idea why Iron Bull’s turned a little nsfw)

Dorian: Dorian was in the library reading when he hears Solas cry out in surprise, which was not natural usually. In curiosity, he looks over the railing to the floor below and sees Solas and  the Inquisitor. Scratch that, he saw Solas with the Inquisitor WHOSE HAIR HAD BEEN DYED. He must have let out a noise because the Inquisitor looks up and smiles at him. When they join him on the second floor, he asks them probably every question under the sun about why their hair was dyed. After a while they stopped answering and instead leaned over to kiss Dorian into silence. “You like it, don’t you?” They ask him as they pull away and of course he does, they look almost like a divine being now walking around Thedas.

-Direct From Orzammar

Monsta X as Fathers

Anon asked: Right… so after the adorable Twitter and Instagram videos that have come out recently (y'all know what I mean), I NEED Monsta X as daddies. Like for real. - <3 your Not-So-Anonymous Anon :)

I would like to curse you and thank you for this “Anon”. -.- Good lord the feels while writing this!!! 

I hope everyone enjoys! ^^

~Admin Maknae 💚

Wonho— The show off father. His phone has so many pictures of his beautiful child you as his wife don’t know whether to smile or send the poor man to therapy for obsession.

“Look at what my baby did today,” he would show his coworkers as they would roll their eyes for the hundredth time.

“She’s just smiling.”

“I know isn’t she adorable!” he would gush over the video. Just let the man have his moment, you had told his friends.

Wonho never get’s tired of being around your child, he’s always playing with her, entertaining her in ways that make you chuckle. Like the time she attempted to put one of her princess dresses on him, but it barely fit over his shoulders and it made her sad. So he made a makeshift crown and grabbed a pink t-shirt and one of your skirts to make her happy.

“I’ll never be able to look at the skirt the same again,” you had mumbled to yourself as you were making them lunch. Wonho had taken a break of playing, well god knows what they were playing, to come up from behind you in a hug. Feeding him a strawberry, he had rested his chin on your shoulder, his crown poking your temple.

“Lets have another,” he would nuzzle into you neck.

“Ha,” you looked down at your man in a skirt, “not while you’re wearing that we aren’t,” you teased at him. You couldn’t even imagine how he would be with two angels running around.

Shownu— The protective father. Shownu loves his children, like all fathers do. You might have to remind him to give them some space sometimes, but he can’t seem to help himself. He only wants to make sure they are safe and sound. Like the first day your baby boy went to kindergarten, Shownu checked up on him at lunch time to make sure he was making friends, and while your son was happy to see his father, you only shook your head. You can only imagine if you had had a girl.

You had spoke to soon, having a baby girl was a blessing and also not so much at the same time. Shownu would cherish her. She was a daddy’s girl after all. Your son had taken up with you so it would only be fair to him, right? Most girls love their fathers more anyways. She could do no wrong in his eyes, even when she grew to be older and snuck out of the house one time.

“It’s that boys fault, I know it,” Shownu had said. You knew the real answer, she’s a teenager, but let her be an angel in his eyes. No boy was good enough for his baby girl, and you made sure to let those nice boys know that he really wasn’t as scary as he seemed.

“Get to know her father, hun,” you spoke to your daughters new fling, “he’s really a softy at heart.”

Hyungwon— The watchful father. Hyungwon is careful, he had been around children before sure, but this time was different. She was his. His daughter.

“I feel like I might break her,” he had whispered to you when you told him to hold her, noticing he would only really come close when you were holding her.

“You won’t, she’s not fine china, she’s a baby,” you chuckled at him ruffling his hair.

“That’s the same thing!” he looked so worried holding her head as carefully as he could. You would only smile at him, he would get used to her.

And he did. He never played rough or anything, he was still very careful, and often times he seemed more like he would rather watch that play with his daughter. And you were never really sure why.

“Honey,” you sat down next to him on the park bench, your daughter had been playing on a jungle gym and he was looking antsy, “go be next to her if you are worried.”

He had looked down, “I don’t want to be the cause of her being hurt,” he had finally admitted to you. You only smiled at him.

“Hun, accidents happen. She might break her arm in soccer in a few years, have a scratched knee from a fall, a few bumps and bruises from playing that she might not notice till the next day, but you know what?” He looked up at you, “thats not your fault, your role is to be there to take care of those accidents and make them better.”

Hyungwon had played with his daughter more, still a watchful one, making sure that she never got hurt, but more playful all in all.

Kihyun— The sensitive father. Kihyun is a mixture of all the types of fathers that you would want to have around your children. He doted on them, cared for them, watched over them, and was even just a little bit protective but not to much to smother them. Kihyun understood how their minds worked, and he wouldn’t be worked over so easily, but he would still care for them in a way that made your children love him even more.

“Daddy, can I have that?” your son had pointed to a triple fudge cake a bakery was showcasing in its window. You had been on the way to dinner that day.

“Hmm, that does look good doesn’t it. Tell you what, lets go eat dinner, and we can have the best milkshakes in town, hmm?” Kihyun had started to compromise with your son again and you watched in silence.

“Okay!” your son said happily dragging you both further down the street towards the restaurant.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you had mumbled to him at dinner.

“Do what?”

“You always manage to make him happy in some way, even when you turn him in a completely different direction of what he originally wanted,” you were now walking back home, Kihyun was carrying your son on his back. He had engorged himself happily at dinner and had completely forgotten about milkshakes.

Kihyun would always just shrug at you, “I don’t know, baby.” Almost like he didn’t even know he was doing it himself, you would just smile at him and accept the fact that you chose well for the father of your children.

Minhyuk— The childlike father. Childlike might be a lose word, but there was no other way to describe him. He’s like a child himself, but still knows how to be a father when he needs to be. One day your son walked into the kitchen covered in mud.

“Honey! What in the world have you been doing!?” you ran to him with a wet towel to wipe his face, and to honestly keep him from going any further into the house.

“We were playing army,” you heard your husbands voice suddenly walk up behind him. You had looked up to see Minhyuk also covered from head to toe in mud. You scoffed at him, but at least he knew better than to come inside, he was still standing in the door frame watching you wipe off your baby boy.

“Come here you two,” you pushed your son back outside to the back yard, away from the muddy area, you damned the past two days of rain, and told them to hold still, as you sprayed them both down with a water hose.

“Mama!” your boy yelled at you.

“Well, this is what happens to boys who play in the dirt,” you eyed your husband giving him the ‘you better not do this again!’ look all knowing he probably would the next time he got a chance.

A long day of playing in the mud would end in a family movie night in the living room, and you would look over to see both of your men passed out before the movie even hit its climax. Shaking your head at them both, you would cover them with the blanket that you had wrapped yourself in, getting yourself more comfortable to watch the rest of the movie. Sometimes it might feel like you have two children, but you knew all to well that Minhyuk knew when he needed to be the man of the house, and you were always grateful to his everlasting energy.

Jooheon— The playful father. Unlike Minhyuk, Jooheon would still be very playful with his children, but you wouldn’t see him get into as much trouble. As much, is the key word. Jooheon still is a child at heart himself, and he wants to make his sons life as adventurous as possible while he grows up, and you worry all the time. Knowing he would do nothing to really put them both in danger, how could you not worry when both of these fools were running amuck?

You had heard clanging and banging coming from your backyard one afternoon when you got home from work and instantly needed to see the commotion. Jooheon had built a fort out of stray limbs that you had told him to pick up out of the yard that morning, and two of those limbs were being used as swords.

“You shall not pass!” your son yelled in front of his dad slamming his stick into the ground.

“Ya! This isn’t Lord of The Rings!” your husband was actually as into the play fight as your son was, and you leaned up against the side of the house and watched your idiots.

“I turned you into a dragon remember!?” your son had yelled.

“Since when did a knight become a magician?!”

“Honey,” you interrupted their fight.

“Oh hey baby,” Jooheon had run up to you and kissed your forehead, you could smell that he had been outside all day.

“You do realize your arguing with a six year old right?” you looked up at him smiling.

“Oh you heard us?”

“Right at ‘You shall not Pass!’” you mimicked your son.

“Hey, you could pass for a queen with that acting,” he nuzzled into you.

“Stop your dirty,” you giggled at him.

“GROSS!” you both heard your son yell from the other side of the yard, making you both laugh.

IM— The loving, and always doting father. A little girl is what he would always want and you would be the one to give him his precious gift. Unlike Wonho who shows her off to everyone, it would almost be like he would want to keep her to himself. When she wanted icecream, he’d give her ice cream, even when you told her no because it was almost dinner time. A troublemaker he was a lot of the time, but he couldn’t resist that sweet face. Daddy’s girl always went running to her daddy, and while she loved you too, Daddy gave her what she wanted all the time.

“Sucker,” you would mumble to yourself when she would pull out her charm when she wanted the doll house you all had passed by in the mall. He had looked at you and all you would give him was the ‘It’s up to you’ look. Of course he bought it for her.

“You know she’ll get bored of it eventually right?” you whispered to him as he lugged the box over his shoulder.

He sighed, “I know, but I can’t help it.”

“I know you can’t,” you laughed at him, poking his sides. Your daughter had already happily gone into the next toy store, and you two were her luggage carriers.

“Just don’t go to far this time, hmm?” you reminded him nodding at the price tags over the toys she was oohing and ahhing at, “we do have to eat this week.”

He just sighed and went over to his precious baby girl, and started to gear her attention over to sweets.

“Like that’s any better, Changkyun,” you shook your head at him.

“It’s not as expensive,” he gave you the ‘great idea, right?’ look. You still shook your head, as you both would once again, trail behind your daughter to the ice cream stand.

anonymous asked:


that’s such a specific word, lol. let’s not do the thing

(one word prompt thingy)

Blaine stares, open-mouthed, at his phone, his forkful of pancakes hovering halfway to his mouth. “Baby? Have you… um, have you looked at Santana’s snap story yet this morning?” 

Kurt yawns and sits down next to him at the kitchen table, clutching his coffee mug in front of him. “No, Blaine, it’s 8 AM and I don’t have quite the obsessive relationship with Snapchat that you do. Can you just show me on yours?” He leans towards Blaine with his eyes closed and his chin on his hand. 

Blaine snorts and shakes his head. “Promise you won’t faceplant and drop your coffee on me?”

“That was one time. Ass.” Kurt scoots his chair over, setting the coffee down on the table before he rests his head on Blaine’s shoulder. “Okay. Let’s see what’s so important this early.”

11h: Mercedes, Sam, Rachel, Artie, Blaine, Kurt, and Santana (with only her arm visible) all stand in the kitchen of the loft with champagne flutes raised, singing a rendition of “Happy Birthday” to Elliot that’s more in-tune than most. Santana zooms in on Elliot’s sweet, embarrassed smile.

11h: Rachel lifts her empty champagne flute above her head and screams, “LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!” as Elliot frantically shakes his head at everyone else and insists, “No, I said this is a chill thing!” The camera shakes with Santana’s laughter, “SMH” stamped on top of the snap in giant white letters.

“I’m proud of us all for listening to him,” Kurt muses, yawning again. “You know how we party.”

10h: Santana’s on the couch taking a selfie video with Elliot, sparkly, golden star crowns filtered onto their heads. The caption reads, “you could never. lbvs”

9h: Rachel does a little dance next to the piano and sing-asks, “Who wants to do a little dinner theatre?” before the camera flips to selfie-view, showing Santana’s disgusted face with the frown filter over it.

9h: The camera is so close and zoomed in to Santana’s face that only her mouth is visible as she hisses, “When I get to hell, Rachel Berry will be standing at the gates with a fucking karaoke machine.”

8h: Blaine stands with his back to the camera, chatting with Sam. Santana zooms in on his ass. The screen is littered with peach emojis.

“That is Oscar-winning cinematography.”

Blaine rolls his eyes but says nothing, waiting for the next snap, the important snap–

7h: Santana’s slowly spinning in place with the camera in selfie mode, showing everyone spread around the loft as soft music plays from the stereo. She stops in place, her dark, perfectly-lined eyes going wide as a gleeful grin spreads across her face. She zooms in on a spot a little ways behind her, where Kurt and Blaine are curled up against the arm of the couch, softly kissing each other.

Kurt’s sleepy voice vibrates against Blaine’s shoulder as he snuggles closer against Blaine’s side. “Aw, that’s it? She caught us kissing? We look really sweet, this is noth–”

7h: Kurt presses harder into the kiss, Blaine’s hand going to his ass to steady himself as he pulls Kurt closer. The only part of Santana they can see is her right eye and half of a devilish smile.

7h: The video is a little sharper and Santana is gone, the camera flipped to film them directly. Neither notice. Blaine squeezes around his handful and Kurt quite obviously reacts, the camera zooming in on him slipping his tongue into Blaine’s mouth as his hips nudge forward. Santana has put “WANKY!!!!!!” and a water emoji over the snap.

Blaine hears Kurt’s breath hitch, his grip tightening around Blaine’s arm, but Blaine doesn’t look at him just yet. Kurt is so private, especially where intimacy is concerned, and Blaine doesn’t think he can bear to see Kurt’s face flushing in humiliation right now.

7h: Blaine’s hand wraps possessively around the back of Kurt’s neck, and Kurt tilts his head back, letting Blaine go where he wants. Blaine slides his lips down to Kurt’s adam’s apple and sucks for a moment before giving him a gentle nip with his teeth. They can’t hear it, but Kurt’s lips form rather clearly around a soft, “Fuck,” as he shivers in Blaine’s arms and grabs a fistful of his shirt. 

The fact that he can still do that to Kurt puts a little rush of pride in Blaine’s chest, but he forces himself not to look too pleased when Kurt mutters, “Oh my God,” and lifts his head from Blaine’s shoulder. The loss of Kurt’s warmth just makes Blaine nervous; he’s about to say something when–

7h: Santana’s in the frame again, fanning herself and trying not to make a sound to alert Kurt and Blaine. Then her eyes light up and the camera switches back to them. Kurt has slid his hand between them, fingers flexing against Blaine’s chest. His exact movements aren’t visible, but Blaine suddenly melts against him, his hand moving from the back of Kurt’s head to grip the couch next to Kurt’s head. Blaine’s hiding his face in Kurt’s neck now, Kurt kissing his reddening ear with a smug little grin.

Blaine can feel himself stiffen in his pajama pants as he remembers the sensation of Kurt pressing and pinching his nipples. Knowing how Kurt must be feeling right now makes the guilt swift and all-encompassing, so he says, “I don’t know who else has seen these already, but we can ask her to–”

“We’re so hot,” Kurt croaks, his voice scratchy as he watches himself grab Blaine’s hand and drag Blaine out of the living room. “I’ve never watched us like this before. C-can you save these?”

Blaine turns to look at him in surprise and finds Kurt gaping at the phone in definite interest, his face flushed for a much different reason than Blaine thought he’d be, his eyes gone dark and dilated.“Kurt?” he laughs, relieved and aroused and confused all at once. He doesn’t hesitate to follow when Kurt mimics his snap-story self, abandoning his untouched coffee to pull Blaine out of his seat.

“I’m awake now. Let’s go back to bed.”

Dating Jung Hoseok...

❝Next up, Hobi! ^^ based on this post by the lovely weaxedanger  ♥
►3167 words | scenario, fluff, this turned out longer than expected
© (photo credit)

More than often, when people ask hey, what do you love about him, anyway? There is a line-up choice of answers for you to choose from. Sometimes when you’re playful you’d answer I don’t know, when you’re contended and don’t really want to think much, everything, just all of him. But then when you’re staring at the wall in front of you, trying to export what’s in your mind to the papers sprawled out on the desk, one thing after another comes and soon, you have a list of what you love from the love of you and Jung Hoseok.

It would include a lot of laughing; and many, many kinds that you’re unable to make up sometimes but hey, you’re trying.

There’s the kind that makes you breathless, without a word to say because when you try to speak, all that comes out is laughter and it continues on for God knows how long. It could be something silly like how that actress looks like on screen, it could be Taehyung slipping and falling because of Jimin’s little tricks—anything. Your cheeks are red from the laughter, heated up from how hard you’re trying not to laugh and it’s harder when Hoseok’s grinning at you as he’s not too far from your situation and once more, you’re laughing again.

There’s the shy ones that makes you feel like a little high school girl. Maybe he didn’t do much or maybe he’s painted a night sky full of stars for you but either way, it leaves you chuckling quietly, giggling out of habit when he laces his fingers with yours or when he uses his forefinger to tuck strands of your hair behind your ear and then he can only chuckle in return after he whispers you’re pretty.

There’s the oh-fuck-I’m-screwed ones that usually, Hoseok’s emitting them. There are many possible scenarios to this but relating this to the latest one, it’s when he’s lazy and hungry, storming off to the kitchen with a soft cry of I’m hungry! He decides to break the kitchen apart just to find what he wants, he pulls out most of the snacks from the cabinets and places them onto the island, a mindset of I’m going to make the best snack ever and when he realizes it’s way too many items for him to combine them, it’s the wrong time for you to walk in when—“Jung Hoseok!”


It would include I love you—lots of ‘em, in different ways. If someone had to tell you that it’s impossible for a person to love you this much, you’d laugh because it’s happening to you. With Hoseok, there’s variations to the way he says he loves you to the point where there are too many to choose from to say which is your favorite.

It could be the one when he’s in overseas, somewhere across the globe, maybe in the country next to yours but regardless, he’s not home. He’ll ring you up sometime during the night, counting approximately as the clock strikes eleven at where you’re at before your phone rings. You’d answer after the second, he sighs before the third arrives and the conversation takes over from there. Exchanged words of I miss you, just a bit more, hang in there and the topics roll in once more. Then it’s time to hang up—he dreads for it, you do too—but it has to happen sooner or later. He hears you whispering something that makes his heart flutter and he does the same to you and it assures you a goodnight sleep—I love you.

It could be the one when he’s trying to coax up to you, maybe, after he’s made you mad? He’ll be following you everywhere and literally anywhere just to get you to notice him. He pokes your cheek, he tickles your sides, he whines into your ear, he presses his chest to your back and he leans in to whisper I’m sorry… but it doesn’t work just yet. He tries some more, saying that he’s wrong, he shouldn’t have said that and he seals the deal with those three words—and you return it with a kiss.

It could be the one when he’s done crushing your heart, the tears rolling down your cheeks before you can hold them back, your feet bringing you far, far away from him and his words before they hurt you even more. He only notices what he’s done when you’re running away from him, creating a bigger distance between the pair of you that it snaps in him before a voice says run after her, you fucking idiot and he does. He chases you down the block, he ignores the stares he’s possibly getting and he pins you in the alley before you can make another run for it. You’re crying when he pulls you in for a hug, he locks his grip around you when you try to escape and he presses against you tighter when you’re saying I hate you, I hate you, I fucking hate you but he mutes them out because his heart can’t take it—he’s not too sure which is paining him more, the fact he’s caused this, the fact you’re saying those words you’d never say or the fact that you’re having a hard time breathing but to prove a point, you’re still speaking. He gives you a few minutes, maybe five, maybe seven, maybe ten but when you’re quiet and at least you have your arms around him, he dips down to kiss the crown of your head, saying that he’s sorry and in the end, it’s I love you so much, I love you, please don’t run away from me.

It would include kisses; again, too many for you to pick which is the one you fancy most.

Ones on the neck; when it’s in the morning and you’re feeling lethargic despite waking up. You don’t make any effort to move from your spot, remaining motionless as you think what do I have to do today? You could get up and prepare breakfast, you could run some errands today but they’re all washed off from your mind when there’s a pair of lips against your neck, before his words are mumbled against your skin, “Good morning, beautiful lady.”

Ones on your cheek; when it’s time to say goodbye and he’s reluctant to let you go but you’re the one pushing him away. “You have to go,” You say, telling him that it’s for his own good before Namjoon comes with an irritated face again but he whines, clinging onto you, “But… but I…”

“You’ll see me later,” You assure him, poking his cheek and he sighs, hesitating to release his hold on you but then he does after you plant a kiss on his cheek and he does the same to you, over and over again until you’re smiling as bright as the sun and he’s satisfied before he bids you goodbye.

Ones on your hand; when the both of you are lazing on the sofa, not paying too much on what’s on the screen but it does let out some sound that acts as a background music from time to time if either of you has something to say. When no words are being exchanged except for the ones on the screen, he has the tendency to lift your hand up to his lips, pressing the back of your hand closer before he plants a kiss. Then it’s another conversation breaker when you ask what was that for? And his reply is casual, just felt like it.

Ones on your lips; when it’s departure time and neither of you can bear to let go of one another just yet. He hears the announcement being made through the speakers, blaring into his ears but he tries to hold it down for a bit more. He knows his members are about to use this against him sooner or later and he’s prepared for that, especially when you’re clutching onto him like he’s about to disappear and the fact that he is, it’s making your heart crumble. The second announcement is being made and it makes you conscious, stepping back and away from him that it’s unexpected as he blinks down on you. He frowns when you’re trying to smile, it aches him to see you fake something but it’s hard when you look beautiful.

“I-I’m sorry, I… you have to go,” You say, trying your best to sound stable but the both of you know, you’re not. He steps forward and frames your cheeks, lowering himself down to cover his lips with your own and it’s all you’re getting; five seconds of paradise before he pulls away. “You’ll see me later,” He says, stroking the under of your eyes in hopes you won’t cry but… no.

“In a few months is not later,” You argue, slapping his shoulder and he laughs when you do because now you’re genuinely smiling. “It is in my dictionary. So… later?” He questions, his eyes staring you down and you’re left to reply with “Later.”

It would include dance practices—and no, not because you dance; but because he knows you like staring at him when he dances. The way he moves to the beat, his arms and legs coordinating as one when the music plays and let’s not even mention to how he knows he’s the shit when he’s dancing. He’ll invite you in the moment you’re standing by the door and he makes sure you have the perfect view to see all of him to the point when he looks at the mirror to see your reflection, you’re trying hard not to break out into laugh because he knows you’re possibly staring at his butt.

It would include random yelling—really, with just, “Babe! Watch this!”

Or even, “Baby! Look at me! Hey… at me!

Probably, “I need your love! I need your time! Oh, you were listening? Okay—“

Including, “Please give me your attention before I go out and do something stupid…please!”

And then, “Babe!”

So you finally respond, “What?!”

“I love you.”

It would include smiles; discrete ones when he’s out with the members and you, for a meal, for a nice gathering out and let’s just say, he calls for the seat beside you whenever and wherever. Even in the restaurant when Taehyung has something to tell you and Hoseok’s in the bathroom, he magically appears out of nowhere to return to his seat and makes Taehyung sit on his lap as he listens along as well. As all of you are waiting for the food, he casually slips his hand in yours on the table and the rest of them are used to it but you’re not so you’re looking away in hopes he doesn’t notice that smile threatening to form but your red cheeks give it all away.

Happy ones when he puts his arm around you when the both of you go out for a stroll. Out to the park, down by the beach, in the shopping mall—it comes naturally and he does it all the time. It’s a sense of protection, safety and when you meet with his eyes, it’s love. He smiles at you when you do, you’re smiling wider when he says you’re pretty and he’s smiling the widest because he’s happy.

Threatening ones when he spots a guy, someone he doesn’t know talking to you in a way he shouldn’t be while he’s away. He only left for five minutes to get some cotton candy for you and this is what happens? He walks up to the pair of you, noticing how he’s shocked the latter and he wraps one arm around your waist before pulling you close, looking into your eyes as he asks, “Who is this sweetie? A friend?”

“N-No, he’s just—“

“Leaving, right?” Hoseok answers for you, turning to smile at the fellow who had just asked for your number, name and now, nothing when Hoseok looks like he can rearrange his face in five seconds. The guy swallows hard and says something between the lines of ‘look man, I didn’t know she was taken’ and Hoseok replies with something that makes his stomach churn to the point where he just runs and he runs fast.

Silent ones when it’s just the both of you, doing nothing and absolutely nothing. It’s him playing with strands of your hair, twirling it around with his fingers and you drawing shapes on his chest as he lets you use an arm as a pillow for you to rest on. He asks if you want to do anything today and you answer with a question like what do you want to do? And he says that he asks you first and you tell him so what that he gives up in asking. It’s lying down on the bed that becomes the activity and when he looks down on you the same time you look up to him with a shared smile—that’s enough.

It would include aegyo—a-oh my god-really; and he does it whenever he wants without hesitation. He could be surrounded in a room full of coordinators, his members, his manager but it doesn’t matter at all. He does something that’s worth a million toe curls and it makes the rest of the members feel alienated but you can handle it. He either puts both hands by the sides of his cheeks, rolling them a few times with an overdone squeaky voice to hook your heart or he pulls out the song, that freaking song that one plus one is—and the rest is getting comments from the boys that oh, it’s funny.

It would include feed me, please? Like how he displays it on television, videos, anything, it’s the truth and you’re the one confirming it when it’s reality at its best. When he’s hungry, he’s upset because he can’t eat but when he’s hungry around you it’s different. He appears over your shoulder when you’re trying to season the meat properly and you’ve not even begun in cooking yet that he puts his arms around you with, “Hobi’s hungry…”

So you try to nudge him off nicely, telling him, “I’ll be done soon, sweetie,”

But then it’s, “But… Hobi…”

“Here,” You hand him a bowl of grapes that are fresh and washed before he directs himself to the stool to sit as he eats, popping some into your mouth as well as you prepare dinner and when it’s done, he bursts out with, “Feed me meat!” And it’s those moments where you feel that you’re dating a five year old.

It would include hugs, his hugs; whether when it’s after a long day of work and you’re returning home. The bags drop from your hands when his arms meet your waist, his chest is smooth against your back and he lures you away from the door far enough until you’re settled on his lap and he kisses you to brush the stress and tension away that it works. Whether when it’s him feeling all tired and worn out as he crawls into bed to enter your embrace and you gladly feel his arms pulling you close as he buries his face in the space between your neck and shoulder. Hey, he says, hoarse and croaky from everything. Hey to you too, you say, warm and full of love that it feels like a million kisses are being peppered all over him. Whether when it’s out of pure joy as he sees you ahead of him that he runs up to you, picking you up and spinning you around to hear that beautiful laugh and when he does, he’s laughing because you’re really here and he continues to do so until crap, you’re wearing a dress. Whether when it’s for a temporary separation and he engulfs you with his hug, pressing his chin on top of your head and you grin, inhaling his scent as he whisper words of love and promises he’ll keep when he returns that altogether, it’s paradise.

It would include tears of joy as he lays his eyes on you after months of not being able to see you in full form, feel you around him and now when he is, his vision is blur and the grip he has on his bags loosen. He drops them within a heartbeat as you’re in front of him, looking fucking gorgeous and he’s at lost for words—not because he didn’t have them planned out, he forgot them the moment he saw you. You’re making the first move to approach him, holding his face in your hands as the tears fall from his eyes and he closes them because no, he can’t cry now, not now, not here in the airport but he is. He shivers under your touch as your fingers rubs his tears away and he can’t stop himself from crying as he yanks you for a hug and he hides his face in your neck. I miss you he confesses, crying. I miss you too, you admit, comforting.

It would include his voice when the aftermath arrives and God he sounds undeniably sexy. His skin is slick and sweaty against yours as he decides to roll you over, trapping you between his legs as he clamps you in and makes sure you feel his bare chest against your naked back. He decides to talk about anything and everything that pops into his mind and it makes you blush when in the middle of his speech, his voice changes and it’s suddenly deeper than usual. He feels you tense in his arms that he smirks, hovering over your shoulder to ask what’s wrong and you say nothing, before ushering him to continue. But then his hand slips somewhere that he previously was and he asks a question that acts like a switch just with—does my voice turn you on?

It would include good morning, goodnight when he’s not there to physically tell you that himself. In the morning when you wake there’s no one there to shower you with kisses, the bed is cold and there’s no reason for you to make breakfast because he’s not there to pester you to. But what does make you get up is when there’s a ding and you reach for your phone faster than you thought you would. ‘Good morning to my precious girl; here’s a picture of my beauty for you to appreciate!’ and it’s a picture of him posing beside a sculpture that you just know Taehyung’s the one taking the picture when it slips down to the right a bit. ‘Good night to my love; here’s a voice message and make sure you listen to this every night.’

And when you press play, he says nothing but I love you.