silent gesture

  • being friends with a gryffindor is: never having to worry about not having someone to fight for you; knowing that you are arms length away from receiving the warmest hug you have ever had, like hot apple cider or hot chocolate; pillow fights at 1AM because why not? it's not like sleep could ever give you this feeling of joy; it's sitting next to a roaring fire painting nails, or trying to braid hair [and failing miserably]; it's watching the sunset together, and trying so desperately to memorize how the colors from the sky are making their face glow; it's standing up for them, even if they screwed up - because they're your friend, and what they did isn't worth giving up those uncontrollable giggles late at night; it's teaching each other how to grow up, and be mature, and learn from your mistakes; it's often going out of your comfort zone to do things that you might regret later, but you know will be worth it in the end; it's trying new recipes together and almost coughing it back up because you seriously needed to have had a recipe; it's always being there for each other when it counts.
  • being friends with a ravenclaw is: turning around in your seat during class, to look at them and roll your eyes simultaneously; coming up with new conspiracy theories about your favorite tv show; writing messages on each other's jeans and hands/arms, and getting in trouble with the teachers for not paying attention; it's not being afraid to tell them that they need to go back upstairs and change their outfit; it's not being afraid to give them the facts, and show them how it correlates with their circumstance; it's watching the stars together, and having a contest about who can spot the most constellations, before you both decide 'screw it,' and make up your own constellations - each with their own history and characterization; it's trying out new things together, whether it's completely foreign to the both of you, or just one of you - to please the other person and to gain their perspective; it's reading to each other late at night, while the other plays with your hair; it's always going above and beyond to keep your friendship alive.
  • being friends with a slytherin is: silent gestures and small smiles during the day, to let the other know you care about them; it's like finding a four-leafed clover - once you find it, you never let it go; it's throwing rocks in water and watching the ripples as they calm you; it's not being afraid to point out the bad qualities in each other, as well as the good, and have conversations about them; it's doing each others makeup and laughing so much that your eyeliner is all over the place, and you can forget about mascara; it's seeing who can sculpt the weirdest animal [with a backstory, please and thank you - along with its diet and habitat]; it's staying on the internet until dawn, and barely speaking, but giggling as you send each other memes; it's jumping on the bed to your favorite music while singing in a hairbrush; it's texting each other in near-tears, spilling your heart out, while the other listens and comforts you, and tells you all the reasons why you'll get through it, and how you don't need the person who is the source of your hurt; it's constantly picking each other up after someone's knocked you down; it's knowing that you have someone you can be completely bare-faced with, and know that they'll either cut all ties with you, or know that you have someone to love you for life.
  • being friends with a hufflepuff is: late-night talks about nothing and everything; sending each other baby hedgehog videos; hand-holding; seeing who can eat the most in one sitting [and then comforting each other the rest of the day, because oh my god who would even eat fifteen pieces of toast in their right mind]; sketching each other [and failing miserably]; lighting dozens of candles and laying down on the couch side-by-side, whilst your favorite instrumental record plays in the background; not being afraid of tear-stained clothes; sometimes having to pull all-nighters working through problems with each other, due to too much blatant and tactless honesty; always smiling at each other while you pass in the halls; always lending an ear when needed, even if you can't give advice; squealing at seeing their selfies, because oh my god, I am friends with the cutest little bean in the universe; making road-trip plans for the future; tripping over air while going on hikes together; drying flowers together; knowing that although they might have their head in the clouds, they will always come back down to earth just for you.

anonymous asked:

what's your fav non-Larry moment?

Hello anon, this is my favorite kind of anon question, and I kinda want to talk about this forever. Let me tell you about how the boys take care of each other, and specifically, about how they take care of Niall. Because Niall is a precious snow flake who deserves only good things in life.

This moment is from the Take Me Home Tour, Aug 9, 2013 at the Staples Center, Los Angeles. The boys are singing Little Things. [x]

Right from the outset, Niall looks overwhelmed and out of it. I don’t know why, I don’t know what upset him, but he just. isn’t. coping. It is clear.

Look at his face when Liam starts singing. This isn’t Niall during Little Things. Niall is usually engaged, cheered because the crowd always sings back, and he is normally strumming along on his guitar like a little boy on Christmas morning.

Not this time though.

The others notice, because of course they do. We forget sometimes, how intimately the boys know each other, how much time they spend in each other’s company. So of course they figure it out.

Harry realizes, and you can tell, because he sings his entire first line with Louis while staring at Niall.

He doesn’t even try to hide it, and in the video, you see Liam catch on by looking at Harry, who is looking at Niall.

Harry gestures at Liam with his eyes to look at Niall, and then leans forward to try and see Niall’s face, presumably to check if he is crying.

When we get to Niall’s part, very clearly, Liam is gesturing to Harry in a “what’s going on” helpless shrug.

My heart breaks when Niall starts singing. His voice cracks on “you will never love yourself half as much as…”

Harry turns around fast enough to give himself whiplash the moment he hears that crack in Niall’s voice, concerned. Caretaker! Styles is in full fledged mode Harry and Liam gesture more to each other, with Harry mouthing “make sure he’s okay”. 

Apparently, this is all Liam can take. Because he starts to climb down to come closer. He gives him a moment though, he waits to see if Niall can get himself together without help. He doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of the crowd, so he waits, even though he wants to reach out and *hug him so bad*

Niall sounds upset again, and Liam sits by his side. First, he just smiles at him, leans in closer and harmonizes with him.

When that doesn’t seem to help, when Niall looks like he is about to crack, Liam puts his arm around his shoulders and pulls him in. A silent, comforting gesture, of friendship and brotherhood, saying “I am here if you want to fall apart. I will sing your harmonies for you.”

Finally, it gets a smile out of our boy.

When Harry starts singing again to finish the song, Liam tickles Niall’s ear and presses his lips together in a kiss.

And even when Liam climbs back up, he leans down to whisper something funny in his ear, making Niall laugh out loud, interrupting the final chorus.

When they finish, Niall is laughing, smiling wide, and Liam goes back to his perch, like a man who accomplished a dear mission.

Even though we don’t see it, I am sure Harry, Zayn and Louis from across the stage are smiling as well, happy that Liam could take care of their boy.

You know anon, we forget, admist all the drama that surrounds the boys every day, all the good and bad press, the poor management, everything - we forget that One Direction, at its core, is just five boys who love each other and stand by each other through the craziness that is their lives.

It helps to remember every now and then.

Humans are weird-Tactical

okay so:

You know the trope by now, alien race A is peaceful, alien race B threatens them, and they ask the humans for help.

So early on a group of hostile aliens have holed up inside the backroom of a ship, and fortunately, they have no hostages. Time to send in the human tactical team.

4 of the humans line up on the door, nodding at each other, and silently gesturing. The aliens watch from a distance, there are 6 hostiles in that ship, surely this isn’t going to end well.

Their thought process is cut-off when the lead human yells “FLASH OUT!” and tosses an unknown device in through the hatch, quickly pressing his shoulder against it to close it.

A dull *pop* is heard, followed by six screams of pain.

The humans rush in a second after, as graceful as dancers, and rather quickly, (and surprisingly without any weapons fire) signal that the ship is clear.

as it turns out, this species of aliens eyes were adapted to low light environments like those present in space, and as such, the flash grenade was MORE than enough to incapacitate everyone in the room, their ocular nerves well and truly singed by now.

“What a fearsome weapon, truly a magnificent display” remarks the alien liason to the squad.

“oh, this? no this is just a stunner, before we run in and engage the targets.” The human marine says with a steady posture and a confident stare.

“wait, so you are saying you were planning on shooting them after THIS?”

“correct as usual, sir.”

This human squad was going to work just fine for their purposes, and, he prayed, he would never have to face them in combat.

4

“We’ve always made a conscious decision to have Lukas express his emotions through silent gestures, be it through giving Philip a Polaroid camera, walking out on a motorcross sponsorship and giving Helen the gun, or finally by kissing Philip openly in front of people who know them. That says ‘I love you’ louder than any words ever could.” 

friendship goals // stiles stilinski

Summary: Having only ever been acquaintances, Stiles & Y/N find out what benefits come along with being friends

Requested: no, collab with @sincerelystiles

Pairing: Stiles & Y/N

Warning: yes, mature language & smut throughout

Masterlist

“Why does Scott insist that playing hide and seek in the middle of the pitch black woods is going to bring us closer together as a pack?” Y/N sighed, annoyed as she pulled her thin jacket closer around her shoulders.

“Quite complaining.” Stiles shushed her, bringing a finger to his lips. “You’re only upset because you’re stuck with me.” He smirked.

They had never been anything more than acquaintances. She was friends with Lydia, automatically making her friends with Scott and in turn, Stiles.

“It could’ve been worse.” He offered his hand to her, helping her over the large tree trunk that had fallen over blocking their path. “You could have been stuck with Liam.” She smiled as she reached for his hands. 

Keep reading

Do you think Derek ever remembers the Stiles that he first met, the loud mouthed, cheerful, quirky, smirking, always moving, always curious Stiles, basically the definition of ALIVE, and he knows Stiles has been through a lot even before that but it never crushed his spirit completely.

Do you think he looks at the Stiles after the nogitsune and everything else he’s had to go through, seeing right in front of him how much quieter Stiles is, how he might flinch at surprise noises or contact, how he doesn’t strive to know everything about anything anymore, how he keeps his head low and approaches things in a more calculating way, a tired way, rather than wholeheartedly.

Do you think he sees the tight lipped smile and the dark eyes and thinks to himself how he should have been more present, how he should’ve been able to do something, ANYTHING, to stop this from happening. Because it happened to himself, he should know how it goes by now, he should’ve seen the signs, he should’ve dared to believe the nagging voice in the back of his head and should’ve stepped forward when he saw that no one else would. But no, he had let himself believe in his self-pity, that Stiles, someone so great could never fall, that he could never experience something like Derek because he was too strong and too precious and too amazing, that he could never need someone like Derek when he has so many people around him.

Do you think he blames himself for not realizing sooner that they are both just people, that he is not some monster who attracts and deserves all the worst for just existing, that what happened to him could happen to anyone, and that Stiles is not an actual angel, who is immune to everything (even if he was Derek’s guardian angel).

Do you think Derek’s heart breaks over and over again every time Stiles half heartedly jokes that they’re all just broken now and that Derek isn’t alone.

Do you think he sees the plea in Stiles’ eyes that he doesn’t dare speak, the way Stiles had seen it in his before he had even known what he wanted, a touch, a hug, unconditional trust, but that he doesn’t know what to do because he still doesn’t trust himself, and all he wants to do is fall to his knees and tell Stiles he’s sorry for letting things go this way, and he knows that it’s pathetic and he’s just being his self-deprecating self again, and that it’s not helping anyone - it never has - but he doesn’t know what to do, all he knows is what Stiles had done for him and he knows he can’t be as great as Stiles, he can’t.

Do you think he tries anyway because he would give his heart and his soul, or what’s left of it anyway (sometimes he doesn’t believe there’s anything left at all but considering he’s alive, and considering the way something beats hard in his chest when Stiles’ eyes meet his there must be SOMETHING there) no matter how small and shattered- he’d give it all for Stiles. And he can’t rewind time and he can’t fix him, and Stiles deserves so much more than his shattered pieces, and one day surely, Stiles will find someone better, someone who serves as a cooling balsam to the pain within, and that thought makes his throat close up and his chest burn and it almost makes him turn away from Stiles because he’s been taught in the past not to give anything if there’s a risk he’ll get burnt- but he does it anyway, because this is Stiles and if he’s not getting what he needs from anyone else, if by chance he’s not letting anyone else in for the moment, if Derek knows where the cracks are and how to warm them, then he’ll be there. And he might not be enough but at least he’s something and maybe, just maybe he can serve some kind of purpose, whichever it may be, to preserve that last part of Stiles that’s hidden behind the cold exterior, maybe he’ll be just enough to help Stiles survive until his life pieces itself back together again and Stiles is back on his own two feet.

Do you think he takes Stiles’ hand, silently because he was never good with words, and because he remembers that most of the time Stiles had comforted him by touch alone, small gestures, rather than his wide vocabulary of words, and that he’s surprised when Stiles isn’t.

Do you think that the tears that form in Stiles’ eyes at the contact take all of the sorrys from Derek’s lips because he loses his breath when Stiles gives his hand a gentle squeeze and sniffles, smiling ever so slightly, not strong enough for an honest full fledged smile, because it would be a lie if he did, but this one is real and it’s the most beautiful thing Derek has ever seen because it means he was right, Stiles is still in there and he might know the one or other thing about getting him out.

Do you think they’re still overly careful around each other and about digging too deep, they’re cautious to protect each other, and they might seem to bicker and argue harshly on the outside about trivial things, but when it comes to words with depth they’re both quiet and calm, and Derek sticks to his silent gestures until they start losing their power.

Do you think the time he sets a hand on Stiles’ back and Stiles pulls away, fear makes his chest tight that he’s reached his limit and he’s not enough anymore, that he’s got nothing more left to give and that this is the point where he has to let Stiles go to find someone better, someone worthy, who will put that real, honest, full fledged, ear to ear grin on Stiles’ face in the most vulnerable of moments.

Do you think Derek remembers that time, where Stiles broke through all his walls and looked straight into his soul with just one word, a seemingly irrelevant word in an irrelevant conversation that had nothing to do with either of them, really, except for fighting off a threat with a paralyzing tail.

Do you think he remembers how Stiles gave everything back then, prior to that word, he used all the energy he had left in him to keep both their heads over water and that he would’ve died to try and save them both, and Derek had found a way to dismiss it, thinking Stiles is the kind of person who would sacrifice himself for anyone, kind of like himself except that Derek did it because he thought he deserves to die much more than anyone else and Stiles probably did it because he thinks no one deserves to die unless they’re trying to kill someone else.

Do you think he takes a step forward to chase the step Stiles took away and tells him simply “you’re not alone”, and it’s three words to Stiles’ one but it’s the best he’s got and he always knew his best is not even close to Stiles’, and he knows he’s got to try everything, give it everything he’s left in him all the way to the end, because Stiles’ would do the same for him if he let him, and he has to take the chance just in case Stiles lets him to the same.

Do you think Derek keeps on talking, thinking about the way he likes hearing Stiles’ voice when he’s down, and talking might not come easy to him but it gets easier when he sees Stiles is listening and his shoulders slump as if he’s finally letting some of the weight of his walls fall.

Do you think Derek envelopes Stiles tightly, not trying to prevent it when he breaks and starts sobbing into his chest, but holding him together so that he doesn’t feel shattered and scattered all over the place when the tears slowly cease, and it hurts, seeing Stiles like this, hearing the sobs that wrenched from him, and maybe it’s such a punch to the gut that Derek tears up himself, but this time he has to be there for Stiles so he keeps talking, making sure Stiles has something to focus on beside the sounds of his sobs.

Do you think that maybe when they both quiet down, exhausted, and Derek sees how reluctant Stiles is to leave his side just for a shower, even if he can’t look Derek in the eyes at the moment, and how they somehow drift back to each other when they lie down, how Stiles grasps onto his shirt tightly when Derek brings his arms back around him, that maybe Derek starts to think maybe there was a reason they kept getting pulled back to each other, maybe there’s a reason they can see past each other’s defenses and see more in each other than either would ever dare to admit, maybe, just maybe, he can be enough for Stiles, the way a scrawny, pale but dotted with moles, sarcastic 147 pounds of skin and bones teenager simply believing in him was enough or him years ago.

Whipped…boyfriend!!! (PT4)




Y/N likes to think everything had gone back to normal after that dreadful morning. Harry hasn’t touched the subject, and he seems to be doing fine. She likes to think everything is okay, maybe he was just having an unpleasant day and there’s no point at even asking about it and upsetting him all over again. But she can’t erase the image of his body racking with sobs, eyes pleading and repentant. 

She wants to be able to get past it, but her mind keeps going back to how she’d cried silently while he was in the shower. How every minute that passed, sat alone on his couch, all she could think about was that there was a possibility that when Harry came out, he would tell her that he couldn’t anymore. He’d break her heart with words of ‘still wanna be your friend. We can still be best friends, like we were b'fo’.’ But it wouldn’t be like before.

She wants her mind to forget his gasps of ’m'sorry, love. M'so so sorry.’ But it’s like they’re forever etched into her brain. And every time she looks at his sleeping body next to her in the morning, it’s all she hears, those words.

So no, everything is back to normal in terms of appearances, but she’s been having an inner battle with herself that hasn’t let her sleep at night.

It’s been about two months or so since Harry’s breakdown. They’ve kept to their daily routine; breakfast, work, the occasional surprise lunches, and dinner among other things; but they don’t talk about it. And it’s like when she tries, Harry diverts the conversation to how thrilled he is to start Dunkirk promo, and of course Y/N can’t press the subject when Harry’s got a wide smile on his face, happy to recount and retell moments on set.

And though she still couldn’t forget about it, she’d enjoyed breaking routine, especially for the beautiful scenery that was a wedding in Hawaii. Harry had been a ray of sunshine. He had introduced Y/N to the few amounts of people that hadn’t met her yet. Some of them were interested enough to ask how Harry, a lad who didn’t often engage in proper relationships, had managed to pull such a beautiful lass. Y/N admits she’d gone a light shade of red at the comment, never one to confidently accept compliments, and Harry just wouldn’t shut up about her after that. Not until Y/N playfully slapped his arm after he’d brought up how she’d made him think she was going out with some other bloke, blatantly lying to him to his face.

He’d played about with a sweet little girl who’d taken a liking to him, boop'ing her nose and faking having tripped over something when she was chasing him, letting her tag him only for her to end up trapped in his arms. And she loved seeing him so content.

She loved the short stories everyone had to tell about a too drunk Harry who cuddled anyone from a friend, to a plant he thought was a friend. 

She can’t deny that she’d loved that he was showing her off too. Especially when his friends would make a comment about how whipped he was, which only made him smile wider as he kissed her hand (and she’d squirmed and giggled because his stubble did tickle some). 

It’s safe to say that by the end of that trip, everyone and anyone who’d watched Harry mindlessly kiss Y/N’s temple, arm slung around her shoulder whilst talking with his friends, were convinced they were it for each other. 

She had never really attended a wedding with him before either. And she realised that there was something about getting to see him in that setting that had her wanting exactly that for them one day.

So one can only imagine Y/N’s excitement when Pixie’s invitation arrived. She’d jumped at the idea of going to Spain, and being Y/N, Harry couldn’t deny her that. 

And now here they are. Watching the sun set over beautiful waters; rays of orange and yellow and blue adorning the sky. 

It doesn’t take much to convince Harry for a picture. All she really had to is smile at him and he was putty in her hands.

“Say cheese.”

“Wanna look sexy." 

"Harry! Just, show me those pearly whites." 

"Jus’ take the picture, love.” He’s adamant. 

“Harry.” Her tone monotonous, a hand at her hip like it as she glared at him, a smile playing at her lips.

“Wanna look cool, babe.” He chuckles.

She rolls her eyes, huffing jokingly and holding the phone up horizontally.

And though he’s not exactly smiling, Y/N can’t think of a better way it could’ve come out. 

***

Today is nothing short of a fairy tale for Y/N. Her arms around Harry’s necks. And Harry’s hands on her waist, swaying to none other than “Song Bird.” He takes to whispering the lyrics to her ear, and he can feel Y/N’s smile widen when she buries her head in his neck. 

Harry likes to think he’s a good dancer, even though he tries to abstain from any. But with Y/N, it’s different. He’d only halfheartedly tugged his hand back from hers when she’d tried to pull him up and off his seat, smile much too sweet to actually deny her of a slow dance. And although usually he has to have some amount of alcohol in his system to confidently show any of his moves off on the dance floor, Y/N has him spinning her around gracefully.

When the song nears the end, Harry gives her waist a squeeze before pulling away and taking her face in his hands, firmly pressing his lips to hers in hopes he could convey and express every ounce of love he was for her in that small gesture.

“Ye’ look beautiful, pet,” he whispers, lips grazing hers, pouting just the slightest for them to meet in a chaste kiss, “always look beautiful.”

“You’re too much,” she giggles, fingers wrapped around his wrists.

Harry can only press another kiss to her mouth, too drunk on love to care about anyone watching. 

***

Harry and Y/N are sat back at their table now. He’d groped at her hip and plopped her on his lap after the ninth song when Y/N began to complain about her feet hurting from walking around all day in heels. He’d moved her hair to fall over her shoulder and kissed across her back and at the exposed flesh of her neck. They stay like that for a while until he pats the side of her thigh, at which point she moves to her own seat. Silently, he gestures for her to lift her legs, and then grabs her ankles and brings her feet to lay on top of his lap. One by one he unstraps and slips off her heals and proceeds to dig his thumbs into the dip of her foot, alternating between the two. And Y/N can’t help but look at how her boyfriend’s brows furrow in concentration, the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips as he works to ease the tension in the muscles. She hums at the touch, Harry smiling in accomplishment, and squeals when he starts tickling. 

“Went from a whipped friend to a whipped boyfriend! S'a step up Harold!” Grimmy pats his friend’s back, a lopsided smirk with a clear intent to insult plastered in his face.

And it’s certainly not helping that he’s helping her strap her heels back on. But again, he doesn’t mind being whipped.

It wasn’t the first time tonite that he’d made the remark either. He’d made it a game actually. The first was while they were conversing with Lou. Grimmy had cheekily strolled past them with a smirk and whisper of ‘whipped’. The second, Y/N was at the fruit bar helping herself to a plate, and Harry kept feeding bits into her mouth as she went about picking what she wanted. He’d offered to take her plate back to the table while she reached for the cutlery, and though Grimmy might have not meant for her to hear it, she still caught the faint ‘whipped’ directed at Harry. The third had been the most embarrassing, at least for her. They had been chatting to an elderly couple, the husband retelling of a vacation he’d surprised his wife with only to find out that cruises weren’t her cup of tea when she wouldn’t come out of their suite bathroom because even though it was smooth sailing, her tummy just couldn’t handle it. At one point Harry had perfunctorily brought up their intertwined hands and pecked at Y/N’s knuckles. Grimmy had, yet again, silently walked up behind them and sing-songed ‘whi-hipped’, at which point Y/N swung her arm around, overestimating her aim, and socked him where she thought would have been his shoulder but was really his neck. Harry had doubled over in laughter at that. Even the wife whose eyes had gone wide couldn’t hold back. After that, Grimmy didn’t bother him any, only playfully shot her a glare when their eyes met.

“Nice t’ see ye’ too, ass.”

Despite his comment, Grimmy leans down to press a kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “I’ll take tha’ as an invitation t'sit down with m'favourite couple." 

"Grimmy’s just jealous he’s got no one to rub their feet." Was it childish that Y/N stuck her tongue out at him? Maybe so, but that’s how their friendship works.

"Oh no sweets. Even if I did m'not touching anyone’s stinky feet.” Dry humour’s always been Grimmy’s specialty.

“Ye’ really are a catch mate,” Harry jabs, taking a swig from his water bottle. 

Grimmy narrows his eyes, “s'tha’ the same outfit ye’ were wearing not even two weeks ago, 'arry?”

“Heyyyy!” Y/N chimes, scolding Grimmy with the sternest face she could pull, “s'my favourite suit of his.”

“Yeh, s'her favourite suit of mine,” Harry mocks. And they all laugh.

After that, any intention Y/N had of staying sober went out the window the second Grimmy came up with the brilliant idea of a game where they’d have to take a shot every time George kissed Pixie. 

You’d think she’d turn it down after the last time she’d gotten sloshed and the fact she’d vowed to take it easy when she did decide to drink. But Grimmy had called her a ninny because ‘s’okay if ye’ can’t handle ye’ liquor, babe.’ And even if she couldn’t, which she thinks they both know he’ll probably end up the winner, she’s certainly not gonna give him the satisfaction of not even trying.

But now, looking back at it, 6 shots in and already feeling it, Y/N really should’ve known better, should’ve thought before hastily agreeing. Of course the bride and the groom are expected to share kisses various times throughout the night at their wedding party. And it was so like Grimmy to demand they kiss every ten minutes, Harry laughing and nodding his head in amusement, or disapproval, Y/N’s not entirely sure at this point.

But she does have to admit she’s having a grand time dancing to “The Time of My Life.” Harry dancing circles around her with his arms up, mouthing along and shoulder shrugging to the beat, an immense smile on his perfect face. She throws her head back in amusement, laughing lively. 

She secretly thanks the heavens that Harry isn’t partaking in any drinking, choosing to stick to water, allowing her to use him as leverage whenever she begins to stumble. 

“Okay, think she’s had enough, Grim,” the comment comes when Grimmy tries to hand Y/N another drink, only for Harry to take it himself and set it at the edge of the round table, away from Y/N who’s got her head on his shoulder and is beginning to fully lean into him from exhaustion. 

“Oh, poo, you’re no fun.” He sticks his tongue out at his sober friend before excusing himself when it’s announced that it’s time for cake.

“Feeling a'right, pet?” His thumb rubs circles on her palm where their hands clasp atop his thigh. 

“Hmm.” Her hooded eyes open a tad slighter when she feels his lips press a kiss to her head before pressing his cheek against her hair. "Yeah. Need to use the bathroom though." 

"C'mon, then.” He takes her hand into his, careful in helping her up, his free hand at the small of her back to steady her.

“M'fine, babe.” She smoothes out the wrinkles on the skirt of her dress and grabs her purse from the table. 

“Ye’ sure? Don’ mind going with ye’." 

"I’ll be fine.” And the giggle emitting from her mouth when she pecks at his exposed chest can’t be any more endearing. He watches her walk past tables of guests, a breath of relief to see she’s good on her feet despite the amount of alcohol she’s consumed.

He sits back down, singlehandedly undoing another button on his shirt as he brings his arm to rest on the back of the chair Y/N was just sitting on. 

And then…

Harry never thought he’d be seeing her face again. It took him a while to control his paranoia, his hyperactive mind conjuring up what he thought to be every possible scenario in which Y/N finds out about what he did. But not this one. 

It catches him completely off guard, his body stiffening at the sight. What throws him off even more is when she spots him and begins making her way to him.

The closer she gets, the farther he wants to get away. 

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.” Her voice sends shivers down his spine. She’s looking at him with…desire? It’s all unappealing if he’s being honest. It feels like she’s trying to lure him in, the way her eyebrow is raised, eyes a bit squinty as she struts closer. He’s making it clear he’s uncomfortable, and if she realizes this, she doesn’t show it, and it doesn’t halt her either.

How was he to know she was a childhood friend of the groom? He’d never seen her at gatherings before that unfaithful night, but in retrospect, he too is guilty of going an endless amount of time without talking to his childhood friends. Harry thinks this is the universe’s way of punishing him for not coming clean. 

His brows furrow in concern. Y/N will be back any second and he’s sure she’ll ask who this woman standing before him is. And it could go one of two ways. 

Harry can introduce her as a friend, but that’d be betraying Y/N on a whole other level. Introducing the woman he slept with to his girlfriend. But he can’t do that. He won’t.

Or. Or what if this woman has the audacity to bring it up. What if Y/N finds out in the worst way possible. 

His hands are sweating in his pockets, body tense. 

“Left so early that morning. Didn’t even stay for breakfast.” The smug look on her face has Harry’s tummy twisting, and he really wants to slap her hand away the second her fingers make contact with the fabric of his suit, fingers running over at the lapel.

And he should stop her right there, but his throat is dry and he’s afraid the second he opens it to add how much of a mistake it was and that he has a girlfriend, is the moment Y/N over hears the conversation.

“You’re a good fuck, you know. Best I’ve ever had." 

He knows she’s trying to get a response out of him, anything that might assure her that he’d had a good time too. 

But he’s not able to get anything out when he notices her stare trail behind him.

"Harry.” Her voice just above a whisper, the sound of heels clicking against the ground growing closer.

No. No no no no. 

just reading the life of alexander before bed as you do and 

Upon which, as they were leading him away as wholly useless and untractable, Alexander, who stood by, said, “What an excellent horse do they lose for want of address and boldness to manage him!” Philip at first took no notice of what he said; but when he heard him repeat the same thing several times, and saw he was much vexed to see the horse sent away,

alexander: that’s a real nice horse isn’t it hephaistion [examines nails] guess none of these losers can handle him [flicks imaginary lint off tunic] what a shame

philip: [pretends to be super interested in flight of passing birds]

alexander: i SAID, that’s a REAL NICE HORSE [hephaistion is staring unblinkingly at philip while nodding emphatically] what a SHAME none of these LOSERS can HANDLE HIM, DAD [hephaistion: that’s a real shame alexander]

philip:  [silent eyeroll, j/o gesture directed to nearby cavalrymen. they all laugh, alexander doesn’t notice]

alexander: i SAID, that’s a  R E A L   N I C E  H O R S E -

philip: jesus christ

Notice Me!

“I know you like me.”

“And you know this is illegal.”

Genre: (trashy) fluff??

Pairing: Teacher!Jungkook x reader, Bad Boy!Yoongi x reader

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

“Please fix your skirt,” Jungkook said.

Stopping at the top of the stairs, she turned around, her hands flying to the back of her thighs as she tugged down at the fabric. A cheeky smile spread across her face as Mr. Jeon looked up at her from the bottom of the stairs, frowning. He cleared his throat.“I don’t understand why I have to remind you every time I see you, Miss (Y/L/N),” he scolded as he continued to make his way to the top of the stairs where she stood patiently. “You’ve been here for years and yet-“

She laughed, running a hand through her hair. “I know, I know,” she dramatically sighed, “But how else would I get Mr. Jeon’s attention?” she asked. He stood in front of her with his hands in his pockets, a blue clipboard snug under his arm. She couldn’t help but stare at his light brown hair that matched with the pale blue tie wrapped around his neck.

Jungkook gave the girl a small smile, “As flattering as that is (Y/N),” he cooed, “Wearing your school skirt as if it’s a belt doesn’t attract any good attention from me.” He stated with another (rather fake) smile. The young teacher stepped pass and continued to make his way to the second floor of the building. The hallways were simmering down as students began settling into their first class, only a few students scattered around the halls in search for their room. It was a peaceful Monday morning in which Jungkook had the first class off, taking his time to leisurely stroll around the school to his office before having to scold a young girl.

(Y/N) was a good student. Good friends, good grade and a good report. Nothing out of the ordinary appeared in her life. However, it was no doubt around the school that she had started to develop an interest on the young transfer teacher from the city. Jungkook had noted the long stares sent his way during his classes.

“I was just kidding!” (Y/N) laughed, following Jungkook with a pep in her step. Her skirt, now slightly above her knee flowed as she skipped next to Jungkook. Trying to avoid her curious stares, Jungkook continued to make his way to the teacher’s staffroom- his safe haven.

“I like you, Mr. Jeon.”

He chuckled, “Well I am a good teacher.”

“No, you know what I mean…”

His feet picked up the pace as he tried to avoid her confession. But with no surprise, she picked up her pace to match his.

“And you know that you are my student.” He quipped.

(Y/N) opened her mouth again, ready to protest before Jungkook swiftly turned around, bumping into her. She let out a squeak before taking a step back, “Jungkook-“

Mr. Jeon,” he corrected, eyes narrowing.

She smiled sheepishly, “Mr. Jeon. I’m just saying that you’re not even that much older! Plus,” she added, holding up one finger, “I’ll be graduating in almost a month!”

Jungkook adjusted the knot of his tie, the white button down shirt moving with him, revealing toned arm muscles. (Y/N) looked away quickly before he could notice the peachy hue across her cheeks. “(Y/N), just because you’re graduating soon does not mean that I’m interested in pursuing a relationship with you,” he said, “Why don’t you go after someone like Namjoon or Jimin?” he asked.

A look of disgust erupted within her, “Namjoon? Jimin? They’re just friends.”

Jungkook laughed before turning away from her, a perfect view of his back presenting itself. Fishing inside his black dress pants he pulled out the silver key, to unlock the staff room door. Swinging it open, he looked over his shoulder. (Y/N) stared into his back, admiring every inch of his body. He smirked, clearing his throat. “Go to class (Y/N).” he ordered before pushing the green door behind him.

It gently closed with a click and (Y/N) was left staring at a blank door. A small frown placed upon her lips as she turned on her heel and began walking off to her first class. In a flash, the innocent pout had instantly turned into a smile, “Stupid Joy,” she chuckled.

Jungkook planted himself into his desk chair with a thud, a loud sigh escaping his lips. Taking a sip of his coffee, his eyes locked onto a small penguin post-it note pinned into the cork board above his desk. The small penguin his co-workers gave him after his second week of teaching at the school.

‘Number of confessions for Jungkook’

14

Chuckling (and almost spilling his coffee), he placed the white mug down and reached for the little note. With a small smirk, he clicked open his pen and scribbled out the number and replacing it.

15

The class was silent when (Y/N) opened the door. Ms. Kwon turned away from the board, frowning as she glanced down at her wrist watch. “You’re 15 minutes late (Y/N)…” she pondered before she looked up at her,”You’re never late?”

(Y/N) let out a laugh, scratching her cheek, “I had to go to the bathroom,” she muttered.

Ms. Kwon nodded, pointing at (Y/N)’s desk, “Write this down then.”

Nodding, (Y/N) bee-lined towards the empty seat as everyone looked at her. It was strange to see a punctual girl like her to be late. 15 minutes late too. Embarrassed and annoyed, (Y/N) unpacked all her belongings and settled into her desk. Why did Jungkook take so long to get to school? She thought.While Ms. Kwon began to write on the board again, (Y/N) leaned over to the desk in front of her.

“Joy,” she whispered.

Dark hair brushed her friend’s shoulders as she turned to face (Y/N), an excited look on her face. “Well?” she asked, “Did you do it?”

Rolling her eyes, (Y/N) nodded. “Yeah and I made myself extra clingy, now give me the money!”

Joy grimaced, “Damn, you really are cheap.”

(Y/N) grinned, shoving her hand in Joy’s face, “A deal is a deal.”

With a huff, the older girl reached into her blazer and slapped a crumbled note into (Y/N)’s wavering palm, “Can’t believe you confessed to Mr. Jeon for $10,” she mumbled, “Where’s your pride (Y/N)?”

She laughed, shoving the money into her blazer pocket, “I don’t mind losing a little bit of my pride for extra cash, Joy.” She explained, “At least I was pretending. What more if I actually liked Jungkook?”


PART ONE

It was a Tuesday morning when you stood outside of the classroom, back leaning against the wall. The early sun shone strobes of light through the hallway windows. The corridor was alive with students shuffling around, shoes squeaking against the freshly polished floor. You waited patiently for Joy. “How long does it take to pee?” you mumble, kicking a piece of paper around the ground, hands shoved in your pockets. You and Joy were making your way to Ms. Kwon’s class before Joy had run off to the bathroom without warning.

The whole morning you were getting various looks from different students around the school. Even walking towards the gate, you had encountered a bunch of girls looking at you curiously. Maybe it was your un-brushed hair or scrunched up socks. Sleeping late last night definitely showed its rough consequences. You sighed, untangling your hair by running your fingers through the strands. Ten minutes had gone by and the hallways had started to grow quiet. Quickly glancing into the classroom, you couldn’t see Ms. Kwon inside yet so you remained still. Before turning back into the hallway, you caught Namjoon and Jimin staring at you before chuckling and whispering to themselves. You scoffed, wondering what they were up to.

“Ah (Y/N)!”

Looking over your shoulder, Jungkook stood in front of you alongside Min Yoongi. You gulped. “Good morning, Mr. Jeon,” you greeted, lifting your back off the wall and fixing your hair once more. Jungkook smirked at your fussiness before adverting his gaze back to your classmate.

“I heard you’re really good at English (Y/N),” Jungkook stated. You nodded, shifting your gaze to Yoongi. His hair was dyed blonde and his top two buttons were undone. Noticing your stare, Yoongi met your eyes and gave a sly wink. You silently cringed at the gesture and looked up at Jungkook. “Well,” he said, “How would you like to help out Mr. Min over here?” he suggested happily, wrapping his arm around Yoongi. You watched your classmate pull a face of disgust before shrugging his elder off.

“I told you not to treat me like a baby, Jeon,” he muttered, shoving his sleeves above his elbows. Jungkook chuckled, shaking his head.

You gulped once more. Teach? English? To Yoongi? You couldn’t even imagine the scenario. Yoongi kept to himself most of the time in class. You always noticed he had earphones in as he sat at in the middle of class, dozing off. You recall the amount of times Namjoon and Jimin would poke fun at him whilst he slept. It was so common that even Ms. Kwon allowed him to sleep as long as his music doesn’t disturb the class. You never had any significant interaction with him. Besides the one time where you bumped into him as he was sleeping and all he mumbled was, “Annoying.”

You blinked, “Help Yoongi with English?”

Jungkook nodded, “Just for a while until he gets more confident in his exams!”

“I do fine in my exams,” Yoongi said.

“You got a C,” Jungkook quipped, “plus you spelt ‘Ugly’ in English as ‘Jimin’.” Yoongi chuckled, eyes everywhere but on you. You continue to stand awkwardly in front of the two. Where the hell was Joy?

“So,” he said, “Can you do it?” Jungkook asked.

His hair was neatly styled today, unlike yesterday. A sleek side part that had split his usual rugged bangs into two neat curls that revealed his forehead. His tie was a dark red with white tiny embroidered flowers. You had to admit that he looked good today.

Yoongi gazed at your pondering face, “Look, you don’t have to-“

“Okay,” you said.

Yoongi’s eyes slightly widened, “Okay?”

You met his gaze and smiled, “Yeah, why not? It’ll be fun, I guess,” you said. You waited for a response from the blonde but no emotion radiated off his body.

Jungkook released his grip from Yoongi and clapped his hands together, “Great! Thank you (Y/N)!” He grinned at you widely and then turned to Yoongi, “If your grades go up by 15% by the next exam, (Y/N) will stop tutoring you, deal?”

Yoongi stared up at Jungkook, a blank expression stamped onto his face, “Deal.” Jungkook reached out and shook Yoongi’s hand with a smile.


“No way!” Joy screamed.

You hummed, taking a spoonful of yogurt into your mouth. The sweet honey flavour made you close your eyes for a bit. After your encounter this morning, you couldn’t help but think about Yoongi and all the possible scenarios that could take place.

“Yes way,” you said. It was already the middle of the day and you felt exhausted. You sat down with Joy on a bench outside one of the school blocks. It was your favourite spot for the both of you. Fairly quiet with the sun shining brightly. You sighed, “I don’t even know how to teach him English without him chopping my head off…” you mumbled, swirling your spoon in the little tub of yogurt.

Joy huffed, “What are you on about?” she asked as she sipped on her banana milk. “Yoongi is nice!”

You raised an eyebrow at her, “What did you just say?”

She rolled her eyes, “He’s just reserved. Just because he doesn’t dick around like Namjoon and Jimin doesn’t mean he’s instantly some mafia king,” she explained.

Again, you were mesmerised by her choice of words, “Mafia king?”

“You know what I mean!” she whined, taking another sip of her milk through a straw.

Joy was your one and only best friend ever since you had transferred at school one year ago. Being the new student isn’t always easy and you were grateful that the girl with dark hair and bubbly eyes had captured you as her best friend. You loved her and her crazy vocabulary and you were inseparable since.

You scrapped the remaining yogurt at the bottom of the container, “Don’t you have a crush on Jimin?” you asked.

Joy’s eyes shifted to the trees around her, “I don’t recall ever stating my feelings towards Park Jimin.” You laughed, leaning over to flick her forehead. “Ow!” She huffed as she shoved your arm away, earning another laugh.

“Whatever,” you sighed, “It was just weird that Jungkook had asked me and not someone like Taehyung or Wendy.” You glanced down at your wristwatch. You had a few minuted left before class started again. You kicked at the green grass beneath your feet, wondering.

“Maybe he likes you, Jungkook I mean,” Joy said as she began to fold the straw into weird shapes. “Maybe your confession opened his mind up and now he has a crush on you too,” she giggled.

Joy flinched as you leaned over only for you to rest your head against her shoulder. “You know I did that as a bet Joy,” you reminded her, playing with your fingers.

She hummed, “Sure.”

You frowned, “What do you mean ‘Sure’?”

Joy lifted your head up and you whined. She smiled, “(Y/N) you’re telling me that you never had a crush on Mr. Jeon?”

You gasped, “What? No!”

She smirked, “Every time I look at you, it seems like you’re imagining what he would look like naked.”

You gagged as Joy laughed at your reaction, “Never! Plus,” you added, pointing a finger at her,” You’re the one that imagines Jimin naked every time he talks in front of the class.”


4 o’clock had hit by the time you were sitting in the library. The smell of paper had filled your lungs with a happy smile. The school library was nearly empty as students had decided to go home. But you remained at the spot Yoongi had promised to meet you at in the morning. You glanced at the clock on the wall. 

“Did he forget?” you asked yourself. You both had agreed to meet fifteen minutes ago.

Another five minutes had passed by and you decided to pack up your things. Before you slipped your bag on, a familiar blonde head had rushed into the doorway. “(Y/N)?!” he yelled out. The few people in the library had turned their heads to the puffed out Yoongi. The librarian, Mrs. Kim frowned at his tone.

You raised your hand awkwardly, not wanting to attract further attention. Yoongi looked around before laying eyes on you beside the window. A small smile erupted from his face as he made his way towards you. “Sorry I’m late,” he said as he planted himself in the chair across from you, “I had to make a call.”

You nodded, sitting back down into your chair.

Yoongi noticed your bag on your back, “Were you going to leave?” he asked in a weird tone. You couldn’t read his face whenever he did that.

You shook your head as he raised a brow, “I thought you weren’t coming so I was going to go eat,” you explained before taking off your bag.You noticed his lack of reply so you smiled at him, “It’s okay though! You’re here now.”

As you dug into your bag for your English book, Yoongi watched you silently. A blank expression still on his unreadable face. Your hair was messily tied in a ponytail and your cheeks were flushed with a pink hue.

“Yeah, I’m here now…” he mumbled to himself.


“So what is an adjective?” you asked.

“A word that describes a noun.” Yoongi replied.

“An example?” you asked.

“A pretty flower,” he said.

You smiled, “Good!”

You had been teaching Yoongi for almost an hour in the library. Everyone had gone home including Mrs. Kim. The sky was fading into a swirl of orange and blue as the light had dimmed inside the building. After a few more paragraphs of reading and writing, you leaned back into your chair and stretched your arms, reaching towards the ceiling.

You sighed as you craned your neck to look outside, “It’s getting dark, we should call it a day.”

You looked at Yoongi with a satisfied smile, “Good work,” you commented.

Yoongi paused before closing his books, “Thanks.”

The school felt a bit different when it was the late afternoon. No one was screaming or laughing. There were no teachers scolding Namjoon and Jimin. Joy had to leave after school in order to make it in time for her shift at the local café. The world seemed to be a bit quiet with just you and Yoongi walking out of the school gates. You noticed Yoongi had one ear bud in the whole time you were studying up until now. “What do you listen to all the time?” you asked.

Yoongi who was in a daze had turned his attention towards you, “Music,” he said.

You chuckled, “Must be nice music.”

You came to halt at the front of the gates and Yoongi gave you a look. “I’m taking the train so I’m going down this way,” you explained as you pointed to the other street. Yoongi nodded but didn’t say a word. You gave him a small smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow then, same place and time?” 

He nodded again.You waved before turning away from the quiet blonde and began walking down the street.

“Good job today (Y/N).”

You stopped in your tracks and gazed over your shoulder. Jungkook walked up to you with a smile on his face, “I finished marking papers the same time as I saw you awkwardly waving Min Yoongi goodbye.” He chuckled. You rolled your eyes and continued walking, Jungkook by your side.

You scoffed, “It was not awkward.”

Jungkook tilted his head to the side, “It kind of looked like a puppy learning how to shake its owner’s hand for the first time?”

A laugh escaped your lips and Jungkook smiled down at you. The streets were quiet as you both continued walking down the empty street. You tried not to be too obvious of the glances you were giving him. Jungkook’s sleeves were rolled messily up his arms and his tie seemed to be loosened around the collar. His hair was no longer sleekly parted but ruffled and dishevelled.

“Don’t you drive, Mr. Jeon?” you asked curiously, not making eye contact with him. The gentle afternoon breeze hit the both of you, your hair sweeping against your neck.

“I like to take the train most days,” he said, “Only the late afternoon trains though, so I can avoid girls like you.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Girls like me?”

He nodded, drumming his fingers against the strap of his shoulder bag. It was ridiculous how young Jungkook looked. He looked more like a student than anything else if it weren’t for his tie and fancy dress shoes. You wondered what Jungkook looked like as a high schooler. Probably a coconut with glasses.

“Girls who confess to me and then follow me wherever I go,” he explained.

Running a hand through your flowing hair you sighed, “Mr. Jeon that was a bet, I hope you realise that I don’t actually want to follow you wherever you go.”

Jungkook stopped on the sidewalk, making you look back with a curious glance.

“A bet?” he asked.

You nodded as he continued to walk by your side, “Joy said she would give me $10 if I confessed to you without throwing up.”

The young teacher laughed, one hand on his stomach as he leaned forward. “How desperate were you?”

You laughed, joining him in a small fit. “Hey! $10 is a lot for a teenager!”

Jungkook continued to laugh as he held two hands up in defence, “Okay! Okay!”

A few minutes of silence had passed before he asked you, “Why would you throw up?”

You looked up at him, “Why would I like my teacher?” 

Jungkook chuckled as he looked up at the fading sky, “You’re right.”

By the time you reached the station, Jungkook and you had your fair share of laughs. You both stood on the platform, waiting. As the train pulled up along the platform, Jungkook glanced at his phone before gasping, “Crap! I’m supposed to be on the other platform!”

You laughed at his face as he looked up at the little display that had all of the train routes and times, “Mr. Jeon are you serious?”

He nodded as the train doors opened and people stepped out. A man walked out onto the platform. Not paying attention to you, he bumped into your small frame. Stumbling back, Jungkook gripped onto your arm.

“Are you okay?” he asked as you stared up at him. His face was too close to yours, a smug grin on his face. Embarrassed, you shook him off and regained your posture. You sputtered, “Yeah thanks.” Stepping into the train carriage, you turned to face Jungkook. He smiled, one hand waving gently. A mischievous gleam was his eyes as the corners of his lips were curled upwards. You raised an eyebrow.

Jungkook remained on the platform, standing in front of you.

“A part of me hoped it wasn’t.” he said, slipping his hand back into his pockets.

You tilted your head to the side, “Huh?”

As the train doors began to close in, Jungkook’s smile grew. Your chest felt weird. You didn’t notice your hands balled up into clammy fists against your skirt. You also didn’t notice the breath you’re holding. All you could see was Jeon Jungkook, your teacher, smile up at you with eyes you couldn’t look away from. 

“A part of me would like to hope that it wasn’t a bet, (Y/N).” he said with a smile as the train door fully closed. You watched, stunned as his figure began to disappear. 

Crazy, Stupid, Love

Title: Crazy, Stupid, Love

Summary: When the girl Dean’s been in love with for years returns home from a disastrous date, he takes it upon himself to make her feel better. But things do not go as planned and feelings he’d kept under wraps for years begin to surface. Which is a bad thing. Right?

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Cameron (OMC, mentioned)

Word count: 2191

Warnings: Language, a smudge of angst and fluff. So much fluff, guys. 

Author’s Notes: This is my submission for @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog‘s Romcom Fluff Challenge and @hannahindie‘s HanCelebratesWithPawnee challenge. Ladies, thank you so much for granting me an extension and allowing me to combine your two wonderful challenges. I hope this was worth the wait.

Special thank you to my twin @ravengirl94 who’s helped me so much with this. She’s the best. 

My prompts for this were “I’m wildly unhappy, and I’m trying to buy it, and it’s not working” from Crazy, Stupid, Love (I am so in love with that movie btw) and “I’m fine. It’s just that life is pointless, and nothing matters, and I’m always tired.” (Both are included in bold in the text below. Gif’s not mine. )

Without further ado. Enjoy <3


The kitchen was a mess, filled with empty pans, dough-dusted spoons and muffin-stuffed cooling racks while specks of splattered batter and flour painted the surface of the counter in shades of white, the homely image reminding Dean of mornings he used to spend by his mother’s side while she baked his favorite pie or cut the crust off his sandwich.

Tightening his grip around the glass he’d been holding, Dean felt his heart clenching painfully at the memory and waited for the all too familiar feelings of homesickness and grief to wash over him like they always did, but Y/N caught the subtle change in him and reached over to graze his arm with her fingertips, the light pressure enough to ground him back to Earth, back into the moment he got to spend with her.

It was one of the things he loved about her, the way she could read him like an open book, how she accepted him for all he was, taking in mistakes and wounds and scars and giving nothing but smiles and affection in return.

Y/N was warmth and comfort to him and that was partly the reason he’d been glad that he was the one she sought for after that date of hers went terribly wrong. He’d been glad because she trusted him enough to be vulnerable around him, trusted him enough to let him in, let him wipe that look of disappointment off her face with a silly joke and a forehead kiss, and tell her that, God, she deserved so much better than Mr. Ballsy, the guy who thought buying her a drink would land him a one-way ticket to her bed.

Because Y/N did deserve better.

Keep reading

a CP ficlet, as promised

(idea courtesy of @echoing-artemis, who said CAPTIVE PRINCE BACHELOR AU which then turned into UNREAL AU in my head because let’s face it, in any situation like this, laurent will still be full of machinations.)

***

When Damen laces his hands together, the left thumb is on top. Laurent fixes this detail with a look that is, as it were, a warm-up for the look he’s about to direct at Damen’s face. Damen is perched on the edge of the plush, over-quilted, impeccably white satin bedspread, elbows resting on his spread knees. He is crushing some of the red rose petals. Laurent makes a mental note to send a production assistant in here with fresh ones before they film the individual segments after the cocktail party.

Someone knocks at the closed door and says, “Um, I think–”

No,” snarls Laurent, wasting the first and most icily searing few seconds of his expression on the door. Silence follows.

“All right, what is it?” Laurent demands of Damen. “Is it drugs? Do I need to send someone out for some cocaine? Do you have a fucking headache? Has a soft-hearted AD whom I will summarily fire snuck you your phone, and you’ve found out that your cat’s died?”

“No,” Damen says, apparently to all of the above. After a moment he adds, in a tone that Laurent can’t parse, “I don’t have a cat.”

“Then what the fuck is wrong with you? I’ve seen potato salad with more vivacity than you’re showing out there.”

“It’s all so–staged,” Damen says, with distaste.

Laurent manages not to roll his eyes, but the violence with which he wishes he were rolling his eyes causes dull pain to gather behind them like a stormcloud.

Keep reading

standrew is such a??? soft???? ship??? like it’s rainy days spent cuddling and sleeping in?? hot cocoa for cold hands and fuzzy socks for cold feet and kisses to the nose or under the jaw or falling asleep nestled in a nest of blankets while snow falls quietly outside the window?? and like pet-names and feeding each other sweets and making each other dinner and kissing each other at random times of the day simply because kissing is nice and feeling loved is nice and feeling warm & safe is really really nice?????

in contrast to that, shyan is such a ride or die ship?? like i’d follow you to the end of the world with mild complaining?? like i’d make you laugh until you want to cry and i’ll bicker with you until we’re both too tired to do anything but cuddle on the couch and i’d call you all kinds of names because teasing you is how i let you know i love you?? it’s strong coffee in the morning, mild beer in the evening, watching netflix, tracing figures on the cloth of the other’s chest, competing to see how many kisses you could plant on each other until it becomes a full blown make out session????

and in contrast to both of that zagene is just so… quiet??? it’s quickly making eye contact at random intervals of the day because suddenly you just remembered that, oh right– i love you?? it’s hand holding under the table during a meeting, or those childish, but still so meaningful declarations of “if i only had to save one during the apocalypse, i’d save you”???? it’s little things like candy on a keyboard or a muffin on a particularly breakfast-less day??? it’s thoughtful nagging and silent fussing and gentle gestures that make up for the almost shy, non-existent quiet words of affection.

Going grocery shopping with Tom (Tom Holland headcannon)

-Tom pushing the cart around pretending he’s a master spy going in undercover as a suburbanite
-“Who do you think works for KGB?”
-“Me, probably.”
-he looks at you like you’ve just blown his mind
-“Why didn’t I think of that before?”
-“Cause you’re too busy drowning yourself in coco puffs.”
-“not true! I have a perfectly healthy amount of coco puffs!”
-“yeah, okay.” you say, smiling at him and grabbing a large box of said cereal and some Milo
-he notices your silent gesture and wraps an around your waist
-“have I mentioned how much I love you?”, he whispers into your ear
-you turn your head around just a little bit so that you can press a kiss to the corner of his mouth
-you smile when he pouts
-“You haven’t today, darling.”
-bopping his nose, you take the cart from his hands
-“Tommy, are you coming?”
-“you didn’t kiss me properly.”
-rolling your eyes, you grab his hand and pull him back beside you
-“we’ve still got a ton of other stuff to get. Not all of us can afford assistants, you know?”
-you tease and he frowns
-Tom trails along, looking at things and asking if you could get them
-“If it’s not on the list, it’s not going in the cart.”
-“You’re no fun.”
-a smile tugs on the corner of your lips as you lean in to say
-“That’s not what you said last night.”
-he blushes just a little bit and then tries to redeem himself
-but you give his butt a little squeeze and then walk off
-“Come on! We don’t have all day, Tommy.”

supportive shance.

when shiro has nightmares or panic attacks, lance is always there for him, offering to talk about it and asking if it’s okay to touch him before moving on to physical comfort. whatever makes shiro comfortable. and sometimes he’ll just ramble about old garrison or family stories or something one of the other paladins said to fill the silence so shiro won’t have to feel alone with his thoughts. 

when shiro gets insecure about his arm and his position as team leader, lance is there with every compliment possible for shiro, validating his existence and telling him how important and appreciated he is. he’ll put both hands on shiro’s face and say, “i love you, you know? all of you.” and then as an afterthought (except this is always planned), “i mean, all of us love you but no one else appreciates the booty like i do.” and sure nothing is completely fixed, but shiro is laughing and that’s all lance could ask for.

when lance’s homesickness gets so bad he loses sleep, shiro can always find him wandering the halls huddled in his “cape blanket” until he settles in on the bridge to watch the stars. shiro joins him and holds his hand, pressing into his side; a constant warmth. on nights like these, lance doesn’t talk. he just squeezes shiro’s hand in a silent gesture of thanks and appreciation for him being there. the next morning, lance kisses shiro’s face over and over again until they’re both laughing and they know they’ll be alright.

they both have their insecurities, but knowing that the other is there, that they can reach out for comfort, makes them stronger. of course they can’t love each other better, but their support is that little something they need to get through the days. 

Things about 12x16 “Ladies Drink Free” #3

Alright, excuse me for a second, but it’s things like this one that make me love Jensen’s acting so much. It’s not the big and huge dramatic moments or fight scenes or whatever that capture what amazing an actor he is (I mean those do too, but those aren’t the ones that make me go “heart eyes”), it’s the aspects like this one right here, the way Dean is flexing his hand. It tells so much about Dean in this moment, the tension and unease he feels, how short tempered he may be beneath the surface. It is a wonderful visual for Dean’s discomfort and annoyance and we have seen him do that a few times before (I remember talking about it in S9 I think but I can’t find a link now). So yeah, subtlety that’s what I love about Jensen’s acting. The silent moments, the small gestures, the short looks and whatnot, because it’s those things that make Dean Dean.

Post Suit Cuddling

Originally posted by sincerelysaraahh

@mavelfanatic asked:

Can you do a post suit cuddle session with Steve Rogers?? Thank you.

MASTERLIST

REQUESTS

Characters: Steve x reader

Summary: Steve comes home from a mission tired as anything, and you take the task of making him relaxed and comfortable before bed into your own hands.

Warnings: fluffy as heck, probably bad editting yikes

Words: 1335

A/N: GIIIIRRRRRLL this request made me melt to think about. It’s more about Stevie coming home and the reader getting him ready for bed than cuddling, but there’s still cuddling in it!!!! It’s filled with fluff too, I hope that’s okay!


You reread the sentence of your book for the nth time, trying to calm yourself down. Steve was due home from a mission tonight, and it had long since passed his ETA. This wasn’t unusual, sometimes it wasn’t possible for Steve to be completely accurate, but it still put your stomach in knots every time without fail.

You nearly fell out of bed when you heard the familiar sound of keys jingling and the creak of the hinges of your front door swinging open. 

You were down the stairs in a flash, your eyes landing on the man you’d missed dreadfully.

Still in his suit, his hair an utter mess from the helmet he’d pulled off, Steve dropped his shield to the floor with a clunk. Having no noticed you yet, he let out a groan and rubbed his temples from the noise, silently cursing the headache he felt. You frowned, he was typically tired, but this was a level above what you were used to.

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BTS Reaction to you moaning their name in your sleep while the other members are around

requested: x

❣️ masterlist ❣️

✿ Seokjin: you had always liked movie nights with the guys; but that particular night you just weren’t in the mood for a horror film, let alone such a terrible one. With a sigh, you had accepted their awful choice, but it wasn’t long until you had fallen asleep with your head resting on Jin’s shoulder. When he first heard his name in a whisper; he’d thought that you were just trying to attract his attention, but when he saw you had your eyes shut closed and didn’t respond to him when he softly said your name, he’d raise an eyebrow, cautiously waiting for your next movement or sound. Then; you said his name once again, a little louder this time. He’d become very stiff all of a sudden and furiously bit his lip when you then loudly moaned his name. He felt all the boys staring at you, most of them with a smirk on their face, but nobody said anything as they then quickly pretended to keep watching the movie. He’d just shrug and laugh it off, but he’d take no time in carefully carrying you to his bed, where he’d knew by experience that you could moan his name all you wanted without anyone hearing you.  

Originally posted by rapdaegu

❀ Yoongi: that afternoon you were just hanging around with the boys as usual; sitting on the couch and nonchalantly looking through your phone, but as soon as you decided to rest your head on Yoongi’s lap and he started to gently stroke your hair, you were sound asleep in less than a minute. There was something to his touch that always managed to make you feel relaxed. He was just staring at you with a smile, the sight of you sleeping so peacefully making him soft, but after a while, when his name fell out of your lips in a groan, it would become a smirk. He’d feel you clutch at the hem of his shirt, still in your sleep, and it would drive him crazy; but when you moaned his name once again in a higher pitch and a louder tone, enough for everybody to hear, he’d quickly lift his head, staring at all the guys one by one dead in the eyes, daring them to say anything or make fun of the situation. Smirking satisfied when everybody lowered their heads and carried on with what they were doing without a word or even a small gesture, he’d continue to look at you with dreamy eyes and a soft smile, not wanting to risk waking you up by carrying you to his bed.

Originally posted by yoongiyi

❁ Hoseok: there simply wasn’t a most comfortable place in the world for you than Hobi’s arms; so you just couldn’t help but fall soundly asleep on his lap with your arms wrapped around his chest and your head on the crook of his neck. He’d be delighted by having you so close, but when he felt you start to whimper and call out his name in between little moans, he had no way of avoiding the rush of blood that went straight to his cheeks. He’d be so amused by the whole situation that it would take him a while to remember that you were with the rest of the boys there; being so caught up in the moment. He finally looked up to see them all staring, every one of them poorly holding back their laughter. When he saw Namjoon open up his mouth to probably make a witty comment; he just raised his eyebrows and puckered his lips a bit, in a mediocre effort to look unconcerned; but clearly letting him see the silent warning behind his gestures. He’d let out a satisfied grin when Namjoon simply closed his mouth and shook his head; tightening his embrace and clutching you even closer to him.

Originally posted by parkjiminer

✿ Namjoon: as much as you wanted to go home pronto that night to be alone with Namjoon; you couldn’t force yourself to make him leave early, so you obligingly accepted to stay until late hours of the night at the boy’s dorm. You knew he loved to be with his friends, and you absolutely didn’t mind either, you loved the guys as much as he did. But after a while you were so sleepy you couldn’t avoid closing your eyes and falling asleep with your head on Namjoon’s shoulder. Apparently, your neediness for him had some impact on your dreams; because you started to loudly moan his name and biting your lip while still asleep. He’d found the whole situation adorable; and couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped his mouth, watching you with loving eyes. He’d feel the boys staring, but he just didn’t care, too concentrated on how focused you look; and couldn’t avoid wondering what you’d be dreaming about. He’d finally took you in his arms and without saying a word he’d nod and stare significantly at the boys for a second before leaving, taking you home so you could peacefully continue your dreams, dreams that he’d make sure you told him all about in the morning.

Originally posted by rapnamu

❀ Jimin: he’d know that you couldn’t control your dreams, that most definitely you weren’t doing it on purpose and that you would be absolutely mortified if you discovered that you had started to loudly moan his name in your sleep while all the boys were in the same room; but he couldn’t help getting a little turned on by the whole situation, wondering what you’d be dreaming about. Biting his lip, he’d try to suppress the smirk that was threatening to show, but still he’d snap out of it the exact moment he’d feel one of the boys let out a muffled laugh. Giving them a death stare that would have scared even the toughest person on Earth, he’d make sure no one even thought of making fun of you for it, and he’d gently carry you to his bed, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek before tucking you and himself in and wrapping his arms around you, falling asleep next to you, probably dreaming about some dirty things that had popped in his mind when he first heard you moaning his name.

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

❁ Taehyung: the moment those six boys stepped into the apartment you shared with Tae; you knew that was going to be a long night. They were there to stay for a while. Probably until the sun came up. And you really didn’t care; you loved having them there, but at some point around four or five in the morning, you just couldn’t take it anymore, falling sound asleep on the couch at the soft caresses your boyfriend was leaving on your back. He was startled by the sound of you calling out his name… The boy loved hearing you say his name, and even more when it was mixed with little moans and growls, but the fact that you were dreaming about him would make him feel kinda proud. He’d find the whole thing amusing. But by the time he’d realize that you weren’t alone; he’d feel kinda bad at the smirks everyone portrayed on their faces. Still, he couldn’t help smiling at your peaceful dreaming face himself. He’d finally carry you to your bed and tuck you in, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead, not before warning everyone that if they ever brought it up ever again he’d kick their butts.

Originally posted by mvssmedia

✿ Jungkook: you were hanging out with everyone at the studio, where they had all been working late that night due to the comeback that was around the corner. You really wanted to be a good girlfriend and be supportive of Jungkook, staying up with him and with all the guys throughout the whole night; but you couldn’t avoid falling asleep on his lap while they were all taking a break. When you started to call out his name in a whisper; he thought something was wrong; maybe you felt sick or wanted him to take you home; but it wouldn’t take him long to realize that you were just dreaming. He’d smile softly at you, and he’d funnily scrunch his nose when he heard those whispers become moans. He tried to look at everyone with hard eyes to warn them to not make even the littlest comment; but he couldn’t pretend be harsh when he found your little moans so adorable. He was completely soft for you, and so he took no time and had no second thoughts about leaving early to take you home so you could peacefully rest.

Originally posted by jkguks

you’ve met one another, right?

words: 4337.

or the one where everything is still the same: even and isak still do happen. but it’s observed under sana’s watchful inspection. on even.

(or the one where ten times, sana sees even, as even and isak happen.)

canon compliant, but, with a little bit more. this wasn’t meant to turn into a full blown fic but, oh well, no can do.

Keep reading

so I had an awful idea that I wrote and my entire doc got deleted so I’ll just sum it up and rewrite it later

Allura is a little girl when she eavesdrops on Blaytz crying and explaining that he doesn’t feel like he’s an essential part of Voltron to Alfor. They talk for a while and eventually, Alfor is able to get Blaytz to stop crying and Allura runs off so that she doesn’t get caught. She didn’t understand how someone so happy could be so sad. And she doesn’t understand how her Uncle Blaytz thought he was worthless.


One day, she notices how upset Lance looks at dinner and so does Coran. She silently gestured for Coran to get the rest of the Paladin’s busy so she can talk to Lance. Once they leave, she explains that she wants to talk and doesn’t let him leave when he insists he isn’t feeling up to it. Eventually, he breaks and starts crying. He doesn’t feel like a part of Voltron. She’s the better pilot. He didn’t deserve it. He’s worthless.


Allura is in the middle of trying to convince him otherwise when it finally clicks. The reason she hadn’t told Lance what it means to pilot the Blue lion is because she herself didn’t understand why the Blue Lion had chosen Blaytz or Lance. Don’t get her wrong, she cared for both deeply, but what made them suited to pilot the Blue Lion? But, now she understands. To pilot the Blue Lion means to put others before yourselves and act happy for the sake of others, even when you’re harboring insecurities so deep. The Blue Lion seeks those who can keep the team together by pretending to be inhumanly upbeat and lighthearted, all the while being incurably sad.


She understands what her father meant when he asked Blaytz if he was taking his medication.


She understands that both Blue Paladin’s had been depressed and that nothing she says will make Lance think he’s worth while.


So, she doesn’t argue with him. She smiles and invites him to see some parts of the castle he hadn’t before. Lance wipes his tears and agrees to go with her.


No, she couldn’t cure something that ran that deep. But, she could help by doing the little things when the Blue Paladin felt down. She could take him on little tours or compliment him during training. She could kick him from underneath the table and wait for him to kick back so they could childishly fight at dinner. She could do all the things her Father had done for her Uncle Blaytz all those years ago.


That same night, she visits Blue to relax in her cockpit and try to bond a little.


When she first touches the controls, there’s the smallest whisper, the hollow echo of a voice that she knew so well, and her entire heart swells with nostalgia as her eyes gloss with fresh tears.


“Thank you, Ally, for being his Alfor and keeping him safe from his own mind.”


(And u guys can assume I’m DOWN with the theory that the spirit of the lions is just the spirit of the person who had previously piloted it).


She smiles a wobbly smile. “You are welcome, Uncle Blaytz.”