this is what i'm doing instead of catching up on sleep

3

Alright, HERE we go! Awhile ago I had an idea for a MP100/Voltron crossover, and after mentioning it to @x-i-l-verify​ and loooots of brainstorming later, we have…*gestures vaguely* this. These are more or less screenshot redraws just to kind of get across who is who. :) More info, reasonings and musings under the cut, because well…it got long…

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Happier (Aren’t You?)

Summary: Can you write something to do with the new Ed Sheeran song Happier? I was thinking in like the view of Dan’s ex who’s watching him fall in love with Phil?’

Genre: Songfic

Song: Happier

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Elements of angst

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Excerpt:

It’s been the longest month of her life and she has a million things on the tip of her tongue she’s dying to say and confess, but not whilst everyone is around. And not whilst Dan has the biggest smile on his lips as he looks down at his phone a couple of minutes later.

“Who are you texting, Howell? We’re all right here!” someone jokes, and Dan laughs and holds up his hands in surrender.

“Just Phil” he replies, the smile never once faltering.

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SCREAMS  (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

IT’S FINALLY HERE OMG OKOK ANYWAY I THINK THIS COUNTS AS ANGST?? (bolded as a warning ;3)

Thank you for your patience, nonnerson~~ nyahaha Anyway I recommend reading (or re-reading part 1)

–R.I.

Click Here for: [Part 1]


It had been a year.

The thought crossed your mind as you exhaled the smoke from a cigarette, watching as it disappeared with the wind. Just like you had, a year ago.

The sun’s rays peeked out from behind the familiar, tall building in front of you, spreading its light over the shadows where you hid. Rika’s old apartment building. The same place where he had brought you to, and the same place he had taken you away from.

Even now, you were unaware of their intentions for bringing you to the RFA and then stealing you away, but… it didn’t matter. No, nothing mattered anymore.

You crumpled the lit cigarette with your bare hands, tossing it to the ground to stamp out the flame, feeling satisfied by the small crunch! sound it made. You wouldn’t have started to smoke, had it not been for the influence of Mint Eye. Sure, you knew it’d kill you, but everything you’d learned at Mint Eye had opened your eyes to the world—that nothing was worth living for in the first place. What did it matter if you killed yourself a little more?

It didn’t.

“MC?” A familiar voice called out to you, making you snap out of your thoughts. Your eyes widened with recognition as you stared at the person before you, but you quickly narrowed them, pursing your lips as you gazed at them coolly.


Yoosung

  • He did a double take, as his eyes roamed over your face, taking in the familiar features of your face that he hadn’t seen in a year…
  • “MC? Y-you’re MC, right?”
  • His voice was filled with hope and desperation, and he subconsciously reached out to you, as if he wanted to catch you before you slipped away.
  • But you didn’t reply, instead brushing past him, barely acknowledging his presence. As you passed him, he noticed the cold look in your eyes, and shuddered. That… that wasn’t the kind and warm MC he had grown to known. You wouldn’t look at him like that, no… not you.
  • Yoosung could only stare after you in disbelief, but he never gathered the courage to approach you again, not even to confirm your identity.
  • It couldn’t have been you. You wouldn’t look so… so… empty.
  • He’d lament about it to Zen later, drunkenly babbling that he’d seen someone just like you on the streets… admitting his fear that he was too much of a coward to find out if it had been you.
  • “I’m scared if it really was MC… Her eyes looked so distant… so empty… so cold… it can’t be her,” Yoosung would deny, shaking his head with a drunken grin on his face. “MC… our MC would never…”
  • He refused to believe it, avoiding the thought completely. A tear fell from his eye as he gazed at Zen through his glass of champagne. “You should’ve seen those scars on her body… god, no, they can’t… they just can’t belong to her,” he hiccupped, still shaking his head in denial.
  • Even as he fell asleep from the heavy amount of alcohol he’d consumed, he would continue to cry in his sleep, dreaming of the broken girl that he’d been too afraid to even talk to.
  • “Not MC…”

Zen

  • You didn’t bother sparing him a second glance as you met eyes with him, but he grabbed your arm before you could even turn the other way.
  • His eyes were shining almost too brightly, and you could practically see a tail wagging excitedly from behind him like a dog. “Jagiya!! Oh, I knew it was you. I would recognize your pretty face anywhere. I’m so glad you’re okay, jagi, I can’t wait to tell the others! I’ve missed…”
  • Zen trailed off as he noticed your unchanging expression, but he mustered up another smile to cover up the fact that your lack of reaction dampened his mood. After all, it had been a year since he last saw you. He didn’t want to waste any more time with you, and he didn’t want to be gloomy with you after so long.
  • “Come on, why don’t we sit down somewhere to catch up?” he smiled warmly, tugging at your arm gently. He didn’t miss the unusual way you winced a bit as he did.
  • Zen loosened his grip on you arm, worry building uncomfortably in his heart. “MC… is it okay if I roll up your sleeve? Please…” His eyes searched yours for an answer, not just to his spoken question but to the millions of questions bottled up.
  • You… you felt torn. Why was he acting so nice to you even though you weren’t even a part of the RFA? Even though it’d been a year? Even though… even though he had no reason to be nice to you? You felt a pain tugging at your heart, but you tried to ignore it instead.
  • Zen looked at you while rolling up the sleeve of your right arm, watching your expression carefully for any hint that he should stop.
  • But you let him.
  • You let him see the dark purple bruises lining up your arm, the faded scars that left scabs in their place… the pain. The pain you’d suffered the past year.
  • He felt sick. What had happened during the time you had gone missing…? Why… why couldn’t he be there for you? Why did this have to happen? Why weren’t you saying anything? Why aren’t there even tears in your eyes? Why wouldn’t you look at him in the eyes?
  • So many questions were spinning in his mind, but he couldn’t voice a single one. “I’m sorry,” he whispered instead, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
  • His hands were trembling as he held yours, bringing the tips of your fingers to his lips as he kissed every one softly… treating you as if you were the most delicate thing in the world.
  • “I’m so sorry I let them hurt you.”

Jaehee

  • Her eyes had dark circles under them, even larger than the ones you’d last seen on her face a year ago. You wondered, could it be that you’d caused that? But you quickly brushed aside the thought. ‘I don’t care,’ you told yourself.
  • It took her a moment to really look at you, her tired mind barely processing what was going on. “MC…?”
  • She just barely recognized you. Gosh… you looked so different. You were wearing dull, dark clothes, even gained a piercing… There were obvious scars at the base of your neck, travelling down toward your chest… But your eyes. Your eyes looked so dead.
  • Jaehee had always thought that she herself looked stressed and tired enough… but seeing you today made her think twice. You looked far worse than her, and she hadn’t even thought that was possible.
  • She swallowed her thoughts, choosing to make small talk with you instead. “You’ve… changed a lot, MC,” she commented softly, unsure what to say.
  • You cocked your head at her. How were you supposed to respond to that?
  • “Uhm, maybe we could grab some coffee?” she tried, still trying to get over her shock of seeing you after your disappearance a year ago. Jaehee had no idea what exactly had happened to you, and reality hadn’t quite hit her that you were standing in front of her just yet, but… she was so, so glad to see you.
  • Your heart swelled at the delighted expression Jaehee wore, and you flashed a small, sad, tired smile at her. You’d missed her. She’d been the only female in the RFA, so you’d put in a lot of effort to befriend her. Jaehee had been one of your closest female friends in your entire life, despite the fact that you had only known her for a short period of time…
  • But no matter how you felt, you couldn’t do anything about it.
  • “I’m sorry.” You pulled her into a tight embrace, closing your eyes briefly to savour the moment. But you quickly let go before she could even wrap her arms around you. “I… don’t want to put you in danger.”
  • With that, you turned on your heel, leaving a confused, sleep-deprived Jaehee behind to suffer from your absence yet again.

V

(Reminder: he’s unaware of Mint Eye in this.)

  • “MC!” His voice was urgent and desperate, very different from the gentle tone you remembered him by. “MC… I’m so glad you’re okay…”
  • His eyes were filling with tears, relieved to see you after so long. He noted your features… the bruises, the healing injuries, the broken look in your eyes as if you’d lost all meaning in life. Dread and guilt overwhelmed his relief, his body growing stiffer and stiffer the more details he noticed.
  • Because it was his fault.
  • He was the one who swore you’d be safe. And yet…
  • He almost choked on his tears as he managed to whisper, “Oh god, I’m so sorry, MC.”
  • Reality hit him. It was all his fault that this had happened to you. If only he hadn’t convinced Jumin… if only he’d ensured your security… if only it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t have these scars.
  • “Leave me alone,” you muttered, brushing past him. He watched you walk away, your eyes downcast and lacking life. He could almost hear his own heart cracking more with every step you took.
  • Because he had no right to stop you. He had no right to interfere with your life and risk ruining it more than he already had.
  • Your brief meeting with him had started with a broken girl, and ended with a broken man.

Jumin

  • His heart was hammering as he stared at you with wide eyes. He almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He took quick, long strides to make his way toward you, but you broke into a sprint, running away from him.
  • No. No. Not him. Not Jumin. No.
  • You knew how he’d felt about you. Hell, you knew you’d felt something with him, too. If you looked at him any longer, all the feelings, all the memories, would come rushing back. You couldn’t let him see you.
  • But he chased you.
  • God, there was no way he’d let you go again.
  • He ran the fastest he’d ever run in his entire life, ignoring everyone and everything around him, only focusing on catching you. But then he tripped just as he got within an arm’s reach, and you halted in your steps on instinct. A pained smile crossed his face as Jumin grabbed at your ankle tightly, making sure you couldn’t run off again.
  • “I knew you would stop for me,” he murmured softly. He stood up slowly, his eyes trained on you. “I thought I’d never get the chance to see you again. That I’d never be able to tell you how sorry I am for letting you go that day… Even after a year, you’re still the same kind, gentle MC I know.”
  • You held back your tears, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not the same, Jumin,” you started, your voice coming out as an unintentional whimper. “I… You don’t know what they did to me, Jumin… They t-touched me, and drugged me, and hurt me and killed me in so, so many ways… I… I’m so disgusted with myself…”
  • You didn’t know why you were telling all this to him. But you couldn’t help it. He was the man you had loved… The man you probably still held feelings for. Even if a year had gone by, the way his mere presence made you feel safe and loved never changed.
  • He gently cradled you in his arms. “I promise you, MC. I will do anything and everything in my power to protect you. I will never let this happen again, I promise,” he murmured in your ears, his chin resting upon your shoulder. You felt dampness on your shoulder, and you realized… Jumin Han was crying.
  • “How? Seven couldn’t even protect me,” you muttered, holding yourself back from returning his warm embrace.
  • He didn’t answer you. Instead, he acted immediately on his words. Jumin exposed your identity to the world, requesting an international TV station to release the news. Everyone would know you. If Mint Eye attempted to take you again, they wouldn’t be able to do so without raising the public’s suspicions. Furthermore, he assigned you trustworthy guards and increased security around his apartment with Seven’s help.
  • They had let you go once. They wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
  • It would take time to help you recover from your traumatic events, but.. They would never let anything happen to you, ever again.
  • Because they love you. They all do.

Seven

  • He would recognize you anywhere. Even worse, he recognized the glazed look in your eyes immediately, too.
  • Come with me right now,” he scowled, grabbing your hand roughly. You tried to pull back, but his grip was firm, and you couldn’t fight against his strength.
  • As he led you angrily through the streets, throwing you into his car and locking the two of you inside, a million thoughts were filling his mind.
  • “Who did this to you?” Seven demanded. He was seething, his golden eyes flashing with detest.
  • You only glared back at him, refusing to answer his question. What good would it do you? Mint Eye had overpowered him and his security once. Even if you went crawling back to the RFA, they would only get you again. It was hopeless. Everything was fucking hopeless.
  • Hurt flashed across his face as he realized what you were thinking, and he lowered his eyes, guilt clouding them. “You think I’m useless, huh. I know. You entrusted your life with me and I only let you down. I can’t promise you that I can help, but please, at the very least, let me try. Tell me what happened, MC,” he pleaded softly.
  • “Even if I told you, what could you do?” you replied in a quiet, tired voice. “It’s an entire organization, Seven. Mint Eye, if you must know. Look, I don’t expect you to do anything.” An empty laugh escaped your lips. “You claim to be this amazing hacker, but you couldn’t even find one girl. You… you have no idea what I went through.”
  • With that said, you left his car, slamming the door shut behind you.

  • That night, when you returned to Mint Eye Headquarters, you noticed that everyone was in a frenzy, running around like mad dogs. “What’s going on?” you asked someone passing by.
  • Their eyes reflected yours with fear. “We’ve been exposed. Revealed to the world. We have to get out, NOW. They’ve sent the government and news stations after us. Each man for himself, run for your life!”
  • You stood there, shocked as you realized that Seven had taken action immediately. Your phone buzzed with a notification, and you noticed a distinctly familiar number texting you.
  • 707: It’s been a year, MC. I haven’t done nothing throughout this time. I always swore to myself that if I finally found you again one day, I would save you.
  • Your eyes welled up with tears as you read his messages.
  • 707: If you trust me, come to this address: [Address Here]
  • 707: We’re waiting for you, MC. Everyone’s waiting.
  • You started to run away from the building and towards your friends. Yoosung… Zen… Jaehee… Jumin… Seven… V…
  • The thought of their smiling faces, greeting you, was enough to bring a smile to your face. The first genuine smile since you’d been taken away from the RFA. 
  • It wouldn’t be the last.

skye07  asked:

Ohhh!!! you wrote the knitting Tony story!!!! I've been hunting that story for a long time!!! (was on a reading spree on your Tony tag, I'm having a swell of a time) So HOW ABOUT!! Someone finding or just ended up in Tony's stash room (it might be a floor if we are being honest, I would with his resources). I am salivating just imaginging the AMOUNT of yarn Tony must have collected, of all colours and types. Just, please. I would love you even more if you decide this prompt worthy~~

You mean that story I sent to bloody-bee-tea about Tony knitting? I’m surprised I haven’t written more Tony knitting, tbh. Hope you like it! Look out for under the cut!

This work can also be found on my Ao3 here.


Natasha had been investigating her new home when she stumbled into it. The room was gigantic, cube shelves covering the walls. Every single shelf had balls of yarn in it, starting with red in one corner and spreading in a circular rainbow of yarns, except for the few columns of shelves that were filled with needles, hooks, counters of some sort?

Natasha felt nervous for a reason she couldn’t explain. Perhaps because this room felt deeply personal? That the person who had set it up had taken time to organize it just right?

She stayed just long enough to tuck a gun under some soft yarn before she left. Each room needed at least one weapon hidden in it.


“Why would you ever need this in my stash?” Tony complained, shoving the gun into her hands. “You can use literally anything in there as a weapon. The straight needles can be used to stab people and the circular needles can be used as garrotes. My double-pointed needles can be used in close combat. And if your attacker is allergic to wool, he’s gonna be in for a bad time.”

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spitfirechick  asked:

If you're taking prompts, could you do #83 from the "99 ways to say I love you" for NurseyDex please?

(sorry, this took me a little while! thanks for your patience!!)

83. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

At first, all he means to do is knock on Chowder’s door and sleep on his floor. He’s done it before; it gives him time to think and vent if he needs to, and then by the morning he’s usually ready to apologize, as is Dex. But even if he’s not, he knows that his wonderful, amazing goalie friend will always let him stay a few hours longer, because he’s Chowder and he’s far too polite to kick Nursey out when he has no place else to go.

Who apologizes first depends on a number of things. Sometimes it’s Dex who taps once or twice on C’s door with an invitation to walk to Annie’s, hands fidgeting and tired eyes examining the floor. Other times it’s Nursey who slips a note under their door, lunch? or Walk me to class?, before slipping outside to wait for Dex on the front porch.

But this wasn’t like any fight they’d had before; this time, there was no ‘usually’ or ‘sometimes’ that applied. It wasn’t about money or gifts or parents. They hadn’t lost a game, neither had had a particularly bad day, and they had told everyone who mattered a month ago. Together.

This was two in the morning, running on empty, things you don’t mean but can’t take back, and yelling that woke up the entire Haus - even Chowder, who’s slept through more of their arguments than Nursey can count.

So when Dex suggests he leave (at the top of his lungs), Nursey doesn’t even bother grabbing a jacket, just brushes past a concerned Chowder, a cranky Bitty, a solemn Whiskey and a confused Tango and leaves. 

He walks. Where, he isn’t really paying attention, but he’s wide awake and he can’t stop himself from replaying their fight over and over in his head. He knows he messed up, knows he should’ve just gone to bed when Dex snapped at him. But as much as he could blame himself for not being the bigger person, Dex shouldn’t have taken it all out on him, and he knows that they’re both to blame for letting it get this far.

They’ll always be like this, Nursey thinks, too reactive for their own good. He’d try to be optimistic, convince himself that it’s lack of maturity, sleep, or any number of things, but by now he knows better. It’s frustrating, because while he loves a challenge (and what else is Dex, really, if not a challenge), he hates when Dex folds in on himself. There’s always that point in an argument when someone realizes they’re going to lose, but unfortunately for them, realizing that you’re going to lose does not mean conceding your point. Instead, they will inevitably get stuck in some endless loop of you’re wrong, I’m right, every time. 

The thing is, it’s no longer a challenge if there’s no way to win.

With a resigned sigh, Nursey drops down heavily onto a bench and pulls out his phone. 3:30, the screen seems to scream at him, and he runs a hand through his hair. He’s on the opposite side of campus, he realizes, a long way from the Haus and a longer way from Dex. He’s cold - it’s the middle of the night, but he’s wearing a long-sleeved tee and sweatpants and sitting on a metal bench. He can’t even remember what the fight was about anymore, he’s so tired, and the mere idea of hauling his ass back who knows how many miles makes his bones ache. He misses Dex. 

He contemplates calling him, but thinks better of it. Maybe Dex went back to sleep. He’d only be more irritable if Nursey woke him up, and besides, he definitely hasn’t cooled off as quickly as Nursey has. Nursey doesn’t know what he’d say, either. “Sorry,” maybe. “Are you still mad?” probably, even though he thinks he already knows the answer. 

Their first big argument as a couple, they had both agreed to part ways for the night. Nursey had attempted to sleep on the green couch, but couldn’t stop tossing and turning until Dex crept downstairs an hour later to join him. No apology, no notes under doors, and yet when they woke up plastered together the next morning, Nursey knew it was over. 

He clears his head and replays the argument again, pays attention to Dex’s words instead of the murderous glare he gave Nursey that planted a rock in the pit of his stomach. I don’t want to see you right now, Nurse. Just get out.

Nursey knows that “right now” does not mean “ever again.” If Dex meant “ever again,” he’d have said it; he’s not one to beat around the bush. But “get out” is something else. Nursey’s been analyzing tone and diction since he was in middle school, and he likes to think that since he decided to major in creative writing, he’s gotten pretty good at it. “Get out,” like everything else Dex says and does, is efficient and to the point. Go somewhere else. Leave. I don’t want you here.

“Get out” doesn’t come with an expiration date. There’s no implied later, like there is in “right now.” There’s no see you in the morning or but come back when you’re ready. When Nursey thinks about “I don’t want to see you right now” and “get out” in the same breath, he sees tomorrow night spent on his freshman year roommate’s couch. He sees the rest of the week there, too, a slowly growing pile of his things taking up space in the corner. A month goes by, and Dex decides he likes things better this way; he finally has the room to himself, and Nursey doesn’t get underfoot anymore. Two months, and Dex doesn’t need him at all.

Nursey fumbles for his phone so fast that he almost drops it onto the pavement. His hands are shaking as he searches for Dex’s contact and presses the little phone icon, holding his breath as the line rings in his ear. 

Dex doesn’t pick up.

Nursey lays the phone down delicately in his lap and stares at the empty black screen. He gets the message. “Get out” doesn’t mean “leave.” It means “leave me.”

And Nursey hadn’t even been paying enough attention to realize it until now.

He numbly picks up the phone again. If he and Dex are through, he should at least leave a voicemail to tell Dex that he can come by and pick up his stuff in the morning. He’ll stay with Noah, really, it’s not an issue. As he scrolls through his contacts again, he dimly remembers a Facebook post that showed Noah moving to an off-campus apartment with some other junior. Kyle? No, Tyler. He’ll ask if he can stay with them; they’d probably be grateful for the extra help with the rent, anyway. 

This time, Dex picks up, and he sounds wide awake. “Derek? Listen, I-”

“It’s okay, Will, I get it,” Nursey says and feels his chest contract, like his lungs can’t fill themselves up anymore. “'It’s not you, it’s me,’ right? Whatever, it’s chill, I can come by and get my stuff tomorrow morning, there’s these guys I know who have a place and I can probably room with them, I just wanted to tell you so you didn’t think I-”

“Wait, what are you talking about, 'it’s not you, it’s me?’ Why… Is this, are you moving out of the Haus?” Dex asks quietly.

“That’s what you said you wanted, isn’t it?” Nursey’s voice cracks at the end, and he hates himself for it.

“I-When did I say that? Oh my God, I didn’t actually say that, did I?” Instead of pleased, like Nursey was expecting, Dex sounds horrified.

“You didn’t have to, Will. I told you, it’s chill, I get it. I can call a few guys from the soccer team to help me with all the boxes, it won’t-”

“Derek, stop.” Nursey clamps his mouth shut so hard his teeth click together. “I don’t want you to move out.”

Nursey blinks. “You don’t?”

“No, I don’t. Of course I don’t.”

For some reason, maybe it’s the way the breeze whips around him just then or the way Dex says of course like Nursey’s made of glass, he breaks. He’s crying before he can stop himself, and then, like they do when he’s writing sometimes, the words just… fall out.

“Thank God, Will, because it was a stupid fight and I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be mad at you for anymore because I’m not mad at you, I promise, but I didn’t know if you were still mad at me and if you were then you definitely wouldn’t have wanted to talk and so I almost didn’t call but I was terrified, Will, and I miss you, and even if you want me to sleep on the couch or you still need space or you want to take a break, I don’t care, I’ll do anything, whatever you want, I just want to come home.”

“Derek - Wait, you left? Where are you?” Dex asks, concerned.

Nursey sniffs. “On a bench, by Faber.”

“Stay there, okay? I’m coming to get you,” Dex says, and Nursey hears shuffling in the background.

“Okay,” he breathes when the rustling dies down. A door slams, and then Dex sighs.

“Look, Nursey, about what I said before… I don’t want you to leave, and I don’t want to break up or take a break or any of that bullshit. I just… Fuck, I just needed some time to think and you know how shit I am at asking for that when I’m mad. I’m sorry. I’ll be there soon, okay? Don’t hang up,” he adds quickly. “You don’t have to say anything, just don’t hang up.”

“Okay,” Nursey says again, smaller this time. He takes a deep breath in and lets it out. “I don’t want any of that, either, and I’m sorry, too.”

“Good,” Dex says, and Nursey can hear his smile. “It’s gonna take more than some dumb fight to get rid of me, Nurse.”

Nursey grins, despite himself. “Will Poindexter, resident poet and sap.”

“You love it.”

“I do, but I love you more, so-”

“Wait, and I'm the sap?”

Nursey laughs, which makes Dex laugh, and soon they’re back to what they do best, Nursey and Dex, Derek and Will. They talk, bicker, make plans for tomorrow, and Nursey is just planning to tell Dex how much he loves him (again), but the line goes dead before he can say anything.

“No jacket? Jesus, Nurse, it’s gotta be thirty degrees out.”

Nursey’s head pops up so fast Dex is afraid he might have whiplash, but a second later Dex’s arms are full of him and his head is tucked into Dex’s neck, so he lets it go. “What if you catch a cold, you idiot?” He murmurs affectionately into Nursey’s hair. “What am I gonna do with you then?”

Nursey sighs and pulls Dex impossibly closer, but it’s punctuated by a shiver. “Don’t care, s'long as it means you’ll stay.”

“Of course,” Dex says, and it’s different this time. This time, it doesn’t feel like Nursey’s about to shatter; it feels like coming home.

shel silverstein quotes for the signs
  • aries: now i lay me down to sleep, i pray the lord my soul to keep, and if i die before i wake, i pray the lord my toys to break. so none of the other kids can use 'em. amen
  • taurus: oh, if you’re a bird, be an early bird and catch the worm for your breakfast plate. if you’re a bird, be an early bird— but if you’re a worm, sleep late.
  • gemini: do a loony-goony dance 'cross the kitchen floor, put something silly in the world that ain't been there before!
  • cancer: i'll take the dream i had last night and put it in my freezer, so someday long and far away when I’m an old grey geezer, i’ll take it out and thaw it out, this lovely dream i’ve frozen, and boil it up and sit me down and dip my old cold toes in.
  • leo: listen to the mustn'ts, child. listen to the don'ts. listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. listen to the never haves, then listen close to me...anything can happen, child. anything can be!
  • virgo: if we had hinges on our heads there wouldn't be no sin, 'cause we'd take the bad stuff out and leave the good stuff in.
  • libra: i will not play tug o' war, i'd rather play at hug o' war, where everyone hugs instead of tugs, where everyone giggles and rolls on the rug, where everyone kisses and everyone grins and everyone cuddles, and everyone wins!
  • scorpio: she drank from a bottle called DRINK ME and she grew so tall, she ate from a plate called TASTE ME and down she shrank so small. and so she changed, while other folks never tried nothin’ at all!
  • sagittarius: how many slams in an old screen door? depends how loud you shut it. how many slices in a bread? depends how thin you cut it. how much good inside a day? depends how good you live 'em. how much love inside a friend? depends how much you give 'em!
  • capricorn: when the light turns green, you go. when the light turns red, you stop. but what do you do when the light turns blue with orange and lavender spots?
  • aquarius: there is a voice inside of you that whispers all day long, 'i feel this is right for me, i know that this is wrong.' no teacher, preacher, parent, friend or wise man can decide what's right for you; just listen to the voice that speaks inside!
  • pisces: my skin is kind of sort of brownish pinkish yellowish white. my eyes are greyish blueish green, but i'm told they look orange in the night. my hair is reddish blondish brown, but its silver when its wet, and all the colors i am inside have not been invented yet!

anonymous asked:

The sugar daddy headcanons were so good I'm gonna... cry.....,,,,,,,,...... is there some way u could do more headcanons please for it? Maybe this time with stuff like: sugar daddy to lover type stuff? Old hope that's not confusing!! With 76, reaper and mccree again? Ilyyy

When the sugar daddy’s nut so good that you tear up

I kind of understand what you’re asking (or, at least, I think I do) so I shall try provide what you desperately thirst for. >:0


Continuation of this: https://overwatch-imagines-hub.tumblr.com/post/160723237469/hopefully-requests-are-open-can-i-ask-for-sugar

~~~

Soldier 76

  • It really wouldn’t be surprising if it went from a sugar daddy/baby relationship to a romantic one
  • You guys have already the companionship piece down and the sex is great
  • The relationship probably just kind of evolves into romance over time
  • Expensive dinners at restaurants turn into home cooked meals
  • Trips to the movie theater turn into movie marathons at either of your places
  • Sex isn’t really a necessity anymore
  • Instead there’s a lot more cuddling and kissing after dates instead
  • Neither is buying/paying things for you but he still does it every once in a while
  • Is still always taking care of you, though you take care of him too
  • Where he was closed off about his work and life before, he now isn’t
  • You both have a couple drawers of your own things at each other’s place and take turns staying the night at each other’s houses
  • He doesn’t make you leave when he has to go to work like he used to; instead he’ll save you breakfast in the fridge and kiss your forehead before he heads out
  • When he comes home and collapses in bed, you make sure his shoes and visor/glasses and uncomfortable jacket get taken off, then make sure he has a blanket over him
  • On the days he doesn’t work, you let him sleep in while you make breakfast and even tidy up his house a bit for him (it’s a little messy after three straight weeks of work)
  • He does the same for you when he’s staying at your place

Reaper

  • He slipped up and mentioned his feelings for you at some point
  • He freaked out right afterwards and tried to tell you that it wouldn’t happen again and that he was sorry and just to forget everything he said
  • You gotta shut him up with a kiss, probably
  • Afterwards, not much is different, except he’s way more open with his feelings and pampers you way more than before
  • If that second part’s possible
  • Still pays for your things and sets up expensive dates until unless you tell him not to
  • He probably has you move in with him so he gets to be around you more
  • Sex becomes a rare thing; it’s mostly heavy cuddling and warm kisses 24/7
  • Also becomes hella protective, which was another side of himself that he hid from you as a sugar daddy
  • He’s an absolute lovebird, straight from a cheesy rom-com
  • It’s almost ridiculous but it’s also amazingly adorable on the big, bulky, usually edgy and intimidating man

McCree

  • As soon as he realizes he’s catching cooties feelings, he tries to replace you
  • Even goes so far as trying to make you hate him so you leave him
  • Of course, you’re smart and his personality change is the most obvious thing ever, so you’re not about to go down without a fight
  • So you set up an elaborate plan of seducing him and getting him a little tipsy so he tells you what’s wrong
  • It works but tipsy Jesse also realizes what you’re up to when you start asking odd questions, so an argument breaks out
  • And that’s when he slips up and tells you the big news
  • He’s got the romantic feelin’s for his baby
  • And when you’re quiet with surprise, he kisses you to prove it
  • Jesse does everything but kiss his sugar babies on the mouth
  • Boy is he good at kissing too
  • That night’s one of tipsy, giddy romping
  • Instead of rough and fast, he goes slow and takes his time to kiss and touch every inch of your body
  • So much kissing
  • He’s gotta make up for all that time he hasn’t been kissing you
  • God he loves kissing you
  • From then on, his favorite thing is kissing your sweet little lips
  • He gives you the cutest and most random nicknames ever
  • No longer presses you/buys you things to keep up with beauty standards; his favorite thing is seeing your messy hair and your smeared makeup/unwashed face in the morning while wearing his shirt and/or hat when you come out to breakfast
  • Totally cooks for you all the time, whenever he gets the chance
  • Still buys you little gifts and spa trips and short vacations (that he joins you on, of course) whenever you show the slightest sign of stress
  • Way more protective of you than before, if possible
  • Also gets jealous easily but hides it well until he can pout later when you’re alone
  • Half of your stuff is now at his place and he loves to spend most of his free time at yours
  • You have a key to his place
  • While he loves a completely obedient sugar baby, in a relationship he loves those pointless little bickering moments and end up in chuckles and sweet smooches
  • K I S S E S

imthepunchlord  asked:

I have a request, or could just count as a question instead; but I'm kind of curious to see feral!Adrien's reaction to a sick Marinette, even more so since I don't think he'd ever come across someone sick before with humans keeping to their homes when sick. So I'm curious on what he'd do and how he'd respond.

…. You just… totally went there didn’t you?

You’re right that Adrien hasn’t had interaction with other humans, so he wouldn’t notice it at first. It’s Plagg who does.

Plagg is the one who notices most things before Adrien. Whenever Marinette makes her way from the camp, Plagg’s ear twitches before Adrien hears or sees her, even though it’s Adrien who sits staring at the direction she would come from. It’s always Adrien who jumps up when she does arrive, though; Plagg usually just yawns and stays comfortable in his perch in the trees.

But one day when the weather is cool and gloomy, Plagg actually lifts his head and sniffs the air. Adrien follows his example, but picks out nothing amiss except for the impending rain. When the awaited sound of shuffling leaves come, it’s much louder and conspicuous than usual. Marinette finally stumbles into the clearing and Adrien bounds up to her, standing up to his full height before giving her a sweeping bow.

He greets her with a perfectly executed, “Good afternoon, My Lady!”

Adrien might not be able to always speak in long, properly full French sentences yet, but he makes sure he gets that one right, if only for the face Marinette makes whenever he does. Her expression is always somewhere between impressed and amused and also unimpressed. (Alya says it’s called, “endeared”. (Marinette only rolls her eyes. (Alya says that one is called, “in denial”.)))

“Lend me your arm for a minute?” she asks the moment Adrien takes his seat beside her.

“Okay,” Adrien readily agrees, holding his arm out. This isn’t new, he thinks: Marinette has already done lots of sketches–“studies”–of him before. But instead of inspecting the exact curves of his muscles as she usually does, she instead ducks her head under his arm and leans her head on his shoulder. Adrien very nearly jumps.

“Um…”

“Is this okay?” Marinette asks.

Is she kidding? This is so very okay!!! Usually it’s him who leans on some part of her and he has to ask her especially when he wants to curl up on her lap and even though she does say yes most of the time he still celebrates it when she says yes and now she’s the one asking and she’s the one leaning on him and WHAT IS HAPPENING????

“It’s okay,” he says.

“I’m sleepy,” she mumbles.

“Sleep,” he tells her.

He hesitantly puts his arm around her shoulders.

She smiles, then closes her eyes.

Around them, the jungle is still.

Hours later, Adrien wakes to Plagg nudging him urgently. Something is wrong. On Adrien’s shoulder, where there should be the gentle warmth of Marinette’s cheek, there is an alarming heat on Adrien’s skin instead. Adrien tries to wake her. She doesn’t. She shivers, her breath coming in rapid puffs as the delicate wrinkle between her eyebrows tightens. Adrien has seen this before. He’s seen animals breathe like this right before they- Before they-

No. No, nonononono.

“Marinette! Marinette, wake up, wake up, MARI–”

She emits a quiet whimper, too similar to the sound Plagg made that one time when he was seriously wounded and bleeding, and Adrien feels a numbing coldness shoot through his veins.

What does he do? What should he do, what’s he supposed to do– he knows how to take care of Plagg– Adrien just needs to make sure he’s warm and he has water nearby and Plagg always licks his wounds clean but Marinette isn’t doing that humans don’t do that do they does she even have wounds what’s hurting her what’s hurting her?

Plagg snaps a growl, snapping Adrien out of the maelstrom of his panic. In one powerful leap he climbs up on a tree branch, before pausing to look back down at Adrien, making sure that the human boy is paying attention. Then he launches to the next branch, cutting through the jungle’s understory and towards Marinette’s camp.

Marinette’s camp, where the other humans are.

Adrien catches Plagg’s meaning. He gathers Marinette up in his panther pelt and forces his limbs to stand. As thunder rumbles above them and raindrops fall from the sky, he runs after Plagg.

“You’ll be okay,” he whispers to the precious weight in his arms, “please be okay.”  

AU for 12x11

Sam hasn’t been blackout drunk for a couple of years, not since the night that he got Dean back from demonhood and put away nearly an entire bottle of Jack. That time he woke up face down in his pillows, fully clothed with his dislocated shoulder shooting violent bolts of pain down his spine. This time, he comes to with the sky wheeling white above him, his clothes damp and his knees muddy and twigs and leaves in his hair. He sits up, hauls himself to his feet and staggers forward a dozen yards or so to emerge onto a jogging track, a woman in bright lycra thudding past with headphones in her ears. His legs are bruised and aching and his mind is… fuck, so foggy, a great roiling cloud of nothingness, and he has to stop thinking about that right fucking now if he wants to stay calm. He runs his hands through his hair, dislodging a beetle and a shower of debris, tries to straighten up his clothes. He finds his phone in his pocket, the screen shattered and dead. Great. But the next woman down the track has a guy alongside her, a personal trainer maybe, so Sam steps forward hoping that he won’t intimidate them both away.

“Hey,” he says, hoarse. “Can I – I’m sorry. Can I borrow your phone?” 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

um, can i get a sick!viktor fic featuring viktor calling yuuri lots of petnames, yuuri catching viktor's sneezes and coughs in tissues, and a lot of sniffling and sneezing and just general needing-to-be-taken-care-of viktor?

I’m out of order yet again on the requests, but this one is so freaking cute that I can’t help it! Anyways, this is set post-series, with Yuuri and Victor living together in Russia. I used google for the nicknames, so hopefully they’re accurate (translations at the end). Warning for copious amounts of sappiness. Enjoy!

“Yuu-ri!” Victor singsongs from the living room. “I’m lonely! You need to come cuddle with me.”

Well, that’s certainly a change from this morning, when Victor had pushed him away every time he tried to get close, saying that he didn’t want to get Yuuri sick. He pads out into the living room. “What’s wrong, Vitya? Do you need more tea?”

“Vitya” is currently a pathetic-looking lump of blankets on the couch. Only his face remains visible, revealing a pink nose and pale cheeks. “No, no. I said I needed snuggles!”

One look at Victor’s face tells him what happened: his fiancé looks dazed and his eyes are slightly unfocused. Yuuri sighs. “You took the nighttime medicine instead of the daytime one, didn’t you?”

“What?” Victor just seems confused by the question. His brow wrinkles, his eyes narrow, and he stifles a sudden sneeze into the blankets.

“Never mind.” Yuuri just shakes his head. He loves Victor, he really does, but sometimes he wonders if his fiancé has any common sense. Victor reaches his arms out like a grumpy toddler, still determined to get his snuggles. It’s very endearing, and Yuuri gives in, settling himself onto the couch next to him.

Victor wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist, burying his face in Yuuri’s neck and twining their legs together. Yuuri grabs a blanket (one of the ones that Victor did not just sneeze on) and covers the both of them with it. Victor makes a small sound of contentment. “Comfortable now?” Yuuri asks fondly.

“Mhm.” Victor nods into his shoulder. Yuuri can feel a little wetness from his nose seeping into his shirt, but decides to ignore it for now. “Your skin is so soft, Yuuri. And beautiful. I have the most handsome fiancé in the world.”

At this, Yuuri blushes a deep red, glad that Victor can’t see his face as he snuggles closer. “I missed you while you were gone, kotyonok.”

“I was only gone for a few minutes,” Yuuri points out, giggling a little.

Victor pouts. “Mmph. Still too long. I want to be with you always, Yuuri,” he murmurs into Yuuri’s neck. His warm breath tickles, and it makes Yuuri shiver a bit. “I love you.”

Yuuri doesn’t hesitate before he responds. “I love you too,” he says softly. It’s funny, they say it every day, at every possible opportunity; they say it so often that other people (aka Yuri) complain about it. But each time, Yuuri feels that he means it even more. It’s the one certainty in his life: he is deeply and hopelessly in the with the beautiful, ridiculous, and wonderful Victor Nikiforov. How did he get so lucky?

Of course, Victor interrupts the heartfelt moment when his chest starts to hitch with an impending sneeze. Fortunately, Victor is practically famous for his long buildups, so Yuuri has ample time to snatch a tissue from the box on the coffee table and cup it over Victor’s twitching nose.

The sneeze itself is tiny, in sharp contrast to the dramatic, hitching buildup that preceded it. Yuuri has always found Victor’s sneezes amusing. His fiancé is normally so loud, but his sneezes are so tiny and quiet, like a kitten. “Bless you, dear.”

“Thank you, lybuv moya,” Victor says, taking the tissue from Yuuri and wiping his nose. Then he looks at Yuuri in horror. “I’m going to get you sick.”

Yuuri tactfully decides not to point out that they’re already cuddling, so he’s blown any chances of not catching this cold. “I was probably going to catch it from you anyway. We do live together, after all. It’s kind of unavoidable.”

Victor hums in agreement; the sound catches in his throat and sends him into a small coughing fit. Yuuri grabs a handful of tissues and presses them to his mouth. The fit doesn’t last long, but it’s enough to set Victor sniffling wetly and make his eyes run. Yuuri dabs gently at the moisture around his eyes, frowning. “Your cough sounds about the same, but are you sure that you don’t feel any worse?”

“I’ll be okay, solnyshko,” Victor reassures him. “As long as you’re with me, that is.” He tries to sound seductive with his low, raspy voice. The attempt backfires when he has to cough again, and it’s immediately followed by several sneezes that Yuuri barely manages to catch in time.

“You sound absolutely dreadful,” Yuuri scolds lightly.

“Really? I was going for sexy, actually.”

“Nope.” Yuuri shakes his head firmly.

Victor huffs through his nose, mindful of his sore throat. “You have wounded me, zvezda moya.”

Yuuri kisses his forehead in apology. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. Why don’t you try to get some rest? I’m sure that you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“Not tired,” Victor protests, right before he’s interrupted by a huge yawn. Yuuri smirks at him. “Okay, maybe a little bit. Stay close to me?”

“I won’t leave your side,” Yuuri promises. Victor is already drowsy from the medicine, so it doesn’t take him long to drift into a deep sleep, his head pillowed on Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri carefully extricates one of his arms, reaching behind him for his phone. “I love you,” he whispers into the silver hair nestled beneath his chin.

(kotyonok-kitten, lybuv moya-my love, solnyshko-small sun, zvezda moya-my star)

ashinan  asked:

NOT SURE IF YOU HAVE ENOUGH TIME. Give me Uliro, naps

I always have enough time for Ulaz and Shiro. :3

“I’m going to kill him,” Shiro says. The effect is rather ruined by his enormous yawn.

“No, you will not,” Ulaz says, patiently. Shiro’s head is drooping down towards his chest again; he picks it up with an effort just in time. It’s fascinating to watch. “Who would pilot the Yellow Lion?”

“You could,” Shiro offers. Ulaz nudges his shoulder just slightly and tips Shiro down all the way onto the couch, lying prone. Shiro goes without complaint, curling up on his side. He must truly be out of it.

“He’s not - he’s - ” Shiro yawns again, cutting off his words. “ - Yellow would like you.”

“I do not need the approval of another space cat,” Ulaz says, glancing around. Humans prefer to be warm and covered when sleeping; ah. There’s a blanket over the back of the couch. Ulaz snags it with his long reach and spreads the thin but soft material over Shiro’s form. Shiro curls into it reflexively, scarcely aware of his own actions. “Yours is enough.”

“Hunk’s not allowed back in the kitchen until Coran labels every jar,” Shiro says.

Humans are so strange.

“They are labelled,” Ulaz reminds him, amused. “Merely in Altean.”

“Hunk’s not allowed back in the kitchen until he learns,” Shiro corrects, fiercely. It’s somewhat diminished by the slurring of his words, tumbling already towards sleep. What Hunk had innocently thought to be a different form of flavoring for lunch had turned out the complete opposite; Ulaz supposes they’re lucky only one of the Paladins had sampled the food as Hunk prepared it.

It is just unfortunate that it had been Shiro.

“Fear not,” Ulaz says instead. He slips off the edge of the couch, crouching instead to remain at Shiro’s eye level. Shiro cracks open a bleary eye with a supreme effort. “Your Blue paladin has offered to be your taste tester for all ‘surprise ingredients’ from this point on. In future, I highly suggest you take him up on the offer.”

Shiro’s quiet for so long Ulaz is afraid he really has fallen asleep. But no; the Black Paladin’s eyes are open, if a bit unfocused where he’s staring at Ulaz’s knee.

“‘m not really mad at him,” Shiro says, at last. His eyelids flutter again, drooping shut. He peels them back open. “‘m - ‘was an accident. ’m mad at me.”

Ulaz quirks a pale eyebrow. “You are mad at your body’s inability to remain conscious when subjected to an incredible dose of b’lire powder?”

“Had things to do,” Shiro murmurs. He’s glowering. It’s ruined by the fact that he can’t keep his eyes open. “The princess - still planet-side - can’t lead training. Things to do.”

Ah. Ulaz cannot exactly blame him. The responsibilities of leadership can hardly be set down even for accidents outside of one’s control. They have had this argument before.

“Rest,” Ulaz says. The blanket does not fully cover Shiro’s knee at this angle; Ulaz tugs it up, tucking the fabric in. Shiro hums, an unconscious sound from the back of his throat. “I will lead training for you this afternoon.”

“Hate drugs,” Shiro whines. It’s the only complaint he’s uttered since the entire mistake began.

The powder’s working fast, pulling him down despite all of Shiro’s efforts to fight it. If Ulaz hadn’t personally witnessed Hunk chuck the b’lire jar violently into the garbage chute, he’d throw the damn thing out himself.

“I know,” Ulaz begins.

A small chitter catches his attention; Ulaz’s ears twitch. The little blue mouse - Chulatt - perches carefully on the edge of the couch, waving a paw in his direction. Its two friends are helping the third and last mouse - the large one, Platt? - up onto the armrest by Shiro’s head. Chulatt mimes standing guard, striking a fierce pose and waving its tail dramatically.

What odd creatures. Still, Ulaz is grateful for them.

“You will not be alone,” Ulaz says, softly. Mission accomplished, the green mouse - Plachu, Ulaz recalls - slides down the armrest to tuck itself against Shiro’s neck; the red one, Chuchule, chatters something up at Platt. Platt yawns a little mouse-yawn from their content position in the corner of the couch. “Rest, Shiro. I will handle training. And I will be here when you wake.”

Chuchule curls up on Shiro’s shoulder, slipping just under the edge of the blanket. Shiro’s eyes drift shut.

“Make ‘em run laps,” Shiro mumbles with absolutely zero malice, and then he’s out.

ms-aqua-marvel  asked:

Fic Prompt!: Brainwashed evil Dick with Batbros to the rescue! If you don't mind.

There you go. Tim decided he was the one in charge here, so I let him do all the angst. (Spoiler: it’s a lot of angst. As a matter of fact this is so sad, I’m just gonna go ahead and apologize for it in advance).

Read on AO3


There’s little room for mistakes, so they keep it simple.

Red Robin goes first. Strategically speaking, he’s the only one capable of surprising Nightwing and throw him off balance, which is something that they really need if they want to overcome him with minimum damage.

Red Hood goes next. His fighting style is brutal and effective, and bruises are not a problem at this point. Besides, Nightwing doesn’t know that he’s not going to use his guns in their most effective way, so most of his focus will be on that and not on the next attack.

Robin’s supposed to go last. Take Nightwing by surprise, work on his sides, distract him enough for Tim and Jason to go for the second round, and immobilize and drug him before things get even more out of hands.

Like with all the simple things, the plan looked good on paper, but a few hiccups here and there were to be expected as a general rule, and they all were prepared for them.

What they were not prepared for, is for Robin to freeze in the middle of the fight.

It’s such an alien concept to Tim, that it takes him three seconds too many to realize what’s happening. And even when he does, even when he turns his attention from the sedative syringe he’s fumbling with to his younger brother, it doesn’t hit immediately.

Keep reading

A Book of Headcanons!

Ok, I have never really gotten a chance to make headcannons for Jacob so here goes nothing. These are all original so if you see something that you have written about, do let me know so I can remove it. These are all based on our 1800s Jacob, nothing modern, and purely out of spontaneous scenarios in my head so I could probably be wrong in around 80% of them. Either way, hope you like this!

Originally posted by smolprompto

- Yes, Jacob has no patience. He can give you like 5 seconds of his patience, even if you mean the world to him, but nothing more. The man doesn’t have time to wait yet you better wait for him. Oh, yes.
- Beware if you try and sneak up to him playfully.
- Don’t lose your head over his way of talking to you. 
- You either love him or hate him. No in between.
- Loyalty should be like his middle name. Though perhaps never learning the whole “Don’t trust anyone” way of living, Jacob is unconditional to a person he deems good for him or that their cause if worthy of his time and his view of justice. The man means no harm when trusting even a rock, but half the time he has no idea what’s in store for him thanks to this small little flaw of his.
- Of course he’s self conscious of his good looks but he uses them only to get what he wants. Jacob, as usual, has no time to be thinking why do the ladies fall for his charm because he’s into business. And don’t confuse that seductive look on his eyes as flirting, though he surely is an expert.
- No, he can careless of your looks if you’re a person that represents something important to him. The last thing on his mind is finding perfection when he is so misunderstood and all he seeks is someone that can accept him as he is and love him dearly.
- Yes, he’s lazy.
- Scars? Well, as much as he could pretend he doesn’t mind the probable scars on him, it does bother him that he finds them everywhere and some will be permanent. 
- He was born to be understood, not to understand.
- Jacob loves a good laugh.
- He drinks, but not because he enjoys alcohol, but because it helps numb the pain in his poor little heart. The man has issues, y’all.
- The only reason why he doesn’t sleep on the ground is because he doesn’t have time to stop running all over the place.
- Jacob only desires good for the world, despite how terrible his attempts are at making it better.

Originally posted by victoriandamefrye

- His hobbies? Having a good time with his gang or sleeping.
- Give him hugs often, he loves those.
- Yes, he’s sensible to smells and he will let you know if something either will make him vomit or will drive him nuts with euphoria.
- The words ‘quiet’, ‘discreet’, ‘plan’, ‘logic’, and, ‘lose’ are among many out of his vocabulary.
- He can knock you out with a slap, if he feels like it.
- Yes, he eats like there’s no tomorrow.
- Ezio Auditore da Firenze? More like Ezio Aduditore da LA LA LA.
- Don’t annoy him with silly talk. He’s got better things to do.
- No, he isn’t intentionally funny but everyone is so blinded by him that anything he says could be turned funny but he won’t understand why. 
- He’s a devil, and he knows it!
- Play with him because he loves to compete and win! Hide-and-seek, tag, fishing, soccer, anything! He won’t say no!
- Yes, he could be crowned the best daddy in the whole universe. Like, actually dad. But…though he doesn’t know it, he’s also a daddy.

Originally posted by britishfryes

- No! Not the hair!
- He doesn’t mind the stares on his facial scars but don’t stare for too long. There’s too much beauty around to be staring at only that.
- Definitely has a sweet tooth.
- Yes, he loves to smile.
- And he cannot do the ice treatment. He has no practice in that nor will he ever.
- Don’t even bother test his limits. He will prove you wrong even if that means losing half of London in the process.
- Fear? Um, yes he actually does feel it a lot but does a good job at getting over it and turning it to courage in seconds.
- No time to ask questions! 
- He will forever love you if you manage to somehow get him a bed big enough that fits in the train just for him.
- He knows he can sweet-talk you into anything he wants and you will leave him in awe if you somehow manage to not fall under his spell. Still, he won’t give up. He always has it his way.
- He can observe your for a minute and know your strengths and weaknesses.
- Yes, he loves to be intimidating.
- He’s bad at jokes and he doesn’t get them anyways.
- He’s not as romantic as many imagine him. He’s too much of a kid and expects you to pamper him, not the other way around but if you do your job well, the reward will be delicious.
- Keep your distance. Jacob likes his space even if he invades yours.

Originally posted by assassinscreedstuff

- He’s smart, but just street smart.
- Don’t be surprised to see him getting chased. What’s work without a little fun?
- He won’t laugh at dark humor; that’s not up his alley.
- Politics? Could we get some ice-cream instead?
- Tell him you love him; the way he will tell you the same will send shivers down your spine.
- He’s eager for an adventure even if he’s beat and is dying to sleep.
- He hates complaining but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t think it.
- Good luck trying to catch him.
- He doesn’t do hand-holding. He’s more of a side hugger.
- He loves originality. Surprise him!
- Don’t pull a prank on him, though.
- No Jake, Jay, or Joseph. It’s Jacob!
- He rolls his eyes often. It’s his way of showing you how much he cares.
- He always pays. Always.
- Watch your words with him because he won’t forget any conversation he has with you.
- Don’t try and get sarcastic with him. That makes him mad.
- Jacob will not listen to anyone that put boundaries to him. He will rub it in your face he does what he wants…LIKE A BOSS.
- He will likely reborn a parrot.
- And lastly,
Jacob Frye, no matter what, will be a person that you will never, ever, be able to forget once you had the delight to lie your eyes on him.

If you liked these and want some more, let me know in your replies! I was trying to stay as real as possible but I mean, we all got different perspectives on him. Either way, leave a comment if you want another book! I had fun making this one! If you want to use an exact headcannon of mine, please give credit! It wasn’t easy coming up with these many so do me a favor and tag or mention me! Thank you all!

Piece by Piece

That feel when you’re studying hyperpituitarism and suddenly get hit big time by the inspiration bug and something just spills out. Was going to be a quick text post and basically became a short fic on why Timkon is so fucking beautiful and I’m a bit emotional now. Time: 35 minutes done straight through, no edits.


Superboy fell in love with Timothy Drake piece by piece before he ever knew what love was. To him there was never really anyone else, Robin had simply been there, cared when no one else would and Conner’s entire concept of love was based solely around Tim.

It started with insecure, friendly smiles in Mount Justice, with the uncomfortable realization that he had more in common with Batman’s genius protégé than he’d initially thought. There were gentle words assuring Superboy of his humanity, of his worth and affectionate touches to the hands or shoulder. Long explanations on history or culture or personal events, lovingly explained to the new clone without a trace of superiority. Anger and frustration at Bart, Cassie, Batman, himself most of all, sometimes that anger was directed at the clone but it never hurt the way Superman did.

It continues with stupid fights, arguing over petty power struggles and places on the team. Robin nursing wounded flesh and broken bones but still taking the time to ask after the near invulnerable boy’s health. Tears and fears of death or life, after death was certain and was suddenly revoked leaving the boys stranded in a life they thought lost. But heartache made them stronger and somehow, in the middle of the collapse and implosion of Young Justice, Conner realizes that he cannot imagine life without that idiot Robin around. As friend or rival or teammate, he was always there and Superboy takes the moment to truly appreciate him.

It grows as Superboy himself does, becoming Conner Kent in addition to the Superboy. He lives on a farm and goes to school when he has to but he never forgets Robin. The slow growing love was found in exchanged texts half a continent away after Conner finally got a phone, hiding the exchanges behind the backs of their respective parents and mentors. It flourished during sunny San Francisco days spent kicking bad guy butt, his best friend at his back and was tempered by more pointless arguing, done because neither refuse to address the real problems in their lives. There are more gentle touches, innocent, well-meaning brushes of skin and gloves and clothes to convey something deeper than either understood.

It even develops as Conner kisses Cassie for the first, second, fiftieth, one hundredth time. He loves Cassie, he truly, truly does. He loves her hair and her smile and her strength and her brightness. But she is his sun, the one he wants to be with when he’s happy; he can never bring himself to tell her his troubles or thoughts or go beyond the picturesque daydream of their relationship. He smiles with Cassie and unloads on Tim, telling the human all his fears and wishes which are validated with a small, understanding smile. Cassie yells at him, why doesn’t he talk to her? He tells her he loves her but now Cassie is crying and saying it isn’t love if he only gives her a small portion of his heart. He tells her she’s wrong and then goes to talk to Tim.

Conner gets his first flush of realization on a mission, an ordinary one. There’s explosions and cursing villains and everything is loud and deafening in his ears. And then Robin is in his face, his mask all scrunched up in concern and everything fades. The whole world narrows in on Tim’s concern, his pounding heartrate, fast and fragile like a bird’s, and the gloved hand resting on Conner’s chest. The moment end and the sounds return but it sticks out in Conner’s mind as something special in a way he can’t describe. He can’t talk to Cassie. They are having troubles in their on-again, off-again relationship and he hates what that conflict has done to them. He misses being her friend. Conner settles on Bart and, completely out of character, the speedster smiles in a knowing way and runs off without a word.

It grows and grows without any further revelation until he reaches his last breath. As his life flashes before him following his battle with Superboy Prime, he is surprised by how Tim pervades every moment of his life and memories. Even during the times when the other boy wasn’t around, his words or his explanations or his stupid sense of caring hang over Conner's bitterly short life. He finds himself wishing suddenly and painfully to see Tim right then, more than Ma or Clark or Cassie. He loves them all and always will but none of them have ever been there for him like Tim was. Tim who showed him how to skateboard and sewed up his t-shirts on away missions and pushed Conner into a lake one time and cried for hours on his shoulder when his dad died.  Robin entered his life uneventfully but, piece by piece, became Conner’s everything. Out of the corner of his hazy vision, he catches a glimpse of red, yellow and green. His last act is to reach for those achingly familiar colors that are always too far away.

Conner doesn’t remember coming back to life or breathing again after centuries of stillness and death. The first thing he properly remembers in the medical ward in the 31st century is an old, old memory of Tim sitting with Conner on the roof of Ma Kent’s barn. Tim is talking about his parents, the loneliness of his childhood, the guilt of being Robin behind their backs. He asked Conner if there was anything he’d go back and change, if he could. Conner had said something stupid, of course, but at the time he couldn’t think of one thing he’d like to fix. Now lying on a bed, a long ways away from his home, he cries silently and regrets never telling Tim that everything Conner was, wanted to be, was because of Tim. He’s given the opportunity to go back to his time and takes it without a second thought.

A thousand variations of their reunion fluttered through Conner’s head as he flew to Tim’s last reported sighting. He imagined Tim breaking face, being all gross and teary and blubbery as he breaks character and hugs him. He wonders if Tim will be angry for leaving everyone behind and refuse to speak to him. He briefly contemplates sweeping the bird off his feet and planting a big wet one on him, but decides that might be for later. He isn’t expecting what he finds: Tim slightly taller and definitely more muscular in a costume that reminds him of everything wrong about Batman. Even his heart sounds different, no longer the fluttery little birds heart, so strong and brave despite his fears but the steady, resolute beat of a man willing to do anything for his beliefs. He feels like a stranger and Tim’s weak attempts to pretend things are normal feel like such a betrayal to the friendship they once had, to the person Tim used to be.

As weeks and months pass, Conner learns the events that broke and reshaped his best friend into this cold, dark person. He feels anger like he’s never known  to think of how unfairly Tim was treated in his absence. Tim, who gave more than anyone should be expected and who would light himself on fire to keep his friends warm, was let down by those he trusted. Pushed and pushed to be better despite the hurt only to be kicked to curb when Batman’s kid showed up and demanded the Robin costume. He’ll never forget the feeling when he saw Tim shirtless for the first time afterwards. His eyes darted from one new scar to another, each one bad enough to have taken Tim away for good. His fingers had reached out to the large one across Tim’s abdomen from his emergency splenectomy. Instead he turns around and goes to vomit in the nearest restroom. He asks Clark about why he, or any of the League, didn’t do anything to help. Conner hears weak excuses about Tim being strong enough to handle it. He slams the door to Clark’s apartment so hard it breaks when he storms out.

Despite the guilt, Conner still feels a sense of loss and betrayal over Tim’s transformation. He’d survived death and future only to come back and find his rock and his lifeline has been twisted beyond recognition. It’s rude and unfair but he feels it anyway. But then there’s a moment, they’re going over a case and Conner makes the obligatory stupid comment and Tim reciprocates and his mouth does this dumb thing that’s almost a smile and everything is good. Once he starts looking, he finds all sorts of Old Tim buried inside this New Tim that comes out at odds moments. There are even new habits there that are so endearingly Tim that he finds himself liking them anyway. Once upon a time, Tim had wormed his way into his clone heart and now, despite everything, he does it all over again one broken piece at a time

New Tim doesn’t smile much anymore, not counting those fakey smiles he gives on TV. Old Tim was always a little sleep deprived but New Tim takes it to an unhealthy extreme. New Tim is both stronger and scarier than ever before but it seems Conner is the only one who notices that Tim is like glass, right on the edge of shattering completely. Conner wants to help this Tim, this unhappy mix of New and Old, but he doesn’t know how. So he goes back to the start. Delicate touches, stupid jokes and stupider arguments, long, detailed explanations on his feelings of the Wendy reboot and how his History teacher is a crank. There are friendly smiles, understanding eyes and an open ear to all the burdens this new boy has to bear; offered freely just as Tim had done for him years ago. There are too many nights spent listening to Tim rant and rave about the injustices done to him; holding back his too long hair as he gets sick recalling painful memories and too many nights all of Conner’s efforts seem hopeless.

But then the smiles begin to come back, slowly but surely, those small, little Robin smiles that makes Conner’s heart leap. Friendly touches get returned, hesitantly at first but soon Tim’s hands on his back or shoulder becomes familiar. Tim lays out his troubles and listens as Conner absorbs and repeats back that those things shouldn’t have happened and by God does Tim look so relieved and vulnerable in that moment. Conner pulls his boy close, bringing his big arms around Tim’s tiny body and squeezes him as hard as he dares. The air is electric and this is the time in any normal movie the hero would say I love you and sexy shenanigans would ensue. But Tim turns to look up at him with big, watery eyes and it’s written all over his face, no words needed. Conner brings his head down until their foreheads are nearly touching. Piece by piece they fell in love, little things adding up into big things becoming something bigger than they’ll ever be able to describe. So they decide to leave all words behind and just appreciate how much bigger and better the world is to have the other in it.

Power Rangers (2017) headcanons I thought of at work (Part 1 - Moms):

Billy and Zack’s mothers are both the best.  The team loves both of them and both of them love their kids’ weird friends right back.

Billy’s mom is socially awkward and hangs back instead of really interacting with them, but she always lets them be there when it seems like they need to be, even if it’s 2 am on a weeknight, and she stocks the fridge really carefully with them in mind and leaves little notes on the junk food like ‘Eat some veggies first!  There’s a tray in the fridge!’  They’re not sure how she works out their favorite snacks so quickly or how she knows when they need some quiet space or are going to end up sleeping on her couch, but she always does.

Zack’s mom interacts with them a lot more.  English is her second language, and she speaks it well, but it clearly takes a lot of effort.  Sometimes when Zack’s around he translates for her because it’s fast, but if he’s not around, she does her best, and if something’s clearly really wrong, she’ll send him away and make do without him so she can help the other Rangers with their problems more privately.  She’s a good listener and asks lots of questions so they always feel really understood, even if it takes a while to explain.  When she answers to give them advice, she speaks slowly and thoughtfully, and she always finds the right thing to say, even if she has to do it with a lot of little words and metaphors.  Sometimes they use Google translate on a smartphone when she has the word in Mandarin and no set of multiple laborious English words will do.

(When Trini asks her whether she thinks she should come out to her parents or not, she says that if they kick her out, she can live with her and Zack.  Trini knows Zack and his mom can’t afford to take care of another person, but she also knows Zack’s mom is completely, 100% serious about that and would take her in in a heartbeat.)  (When Billy tells his mom about it, not realizing quite how private a thing that is, she says the same thing, but can’t figure out how to actually make the offer to Trini without making her uncomfortable.  She makes a pact with herself to invite Trini to stay if it comes to that, though.)

The first time any of them met Zack’s mom, it was because Zack had gotten in trouble at school and been held back for after-school detention.  Billy knew he usually went home to check on his mom and decided to go make sure she was ok until Zack could get there.  He explains that he’s there because he loves Zack and Zack loves her, and because Zack’s mom is using her second language and Billy can’t follow social cues, neither of them realize that this explanation has been misunderstood.  Billy means that he and Zack are friends, but particularly close, emotionally intimate ones.  Zack’s mom can’t understand why her son hasn’t mentioned his very surprising but, once she gets to know him a little, thoroughly adorable boyfriend.

Billy reports back to the group that Zack’s right.  His mom IS the best.  (Well… the second best.  She’s the best of the moms that aren’t Billy’s.)  He explains how she beat him at chess and let him fix her old busted tv set and remains blissfully unaware of the whole boyfriend mix-up, which Zack and his mom had laughed about extensively and which is making Zack make weird amused faces he refuses to explain.

The second time Zack gets after school detention, Kimberly goes along with Billy to check on her, and then Trini shows up 15 minutes later having not said a word to anyone about checking on the woman and is graciously welcomed inside.  By the time Zack gets there, all four of them are reasonably invested in a daytime soap opera on the crappy tv Billy fixed.

For a while, one of the kids or another will pop in every few days to catch up on ‘their soap’ and see how Zack’s mom is doing, and they gradually start coming more often and getting more invested in the show and by the end of the school year, all five of them troop over there after school nearly every day to watch it together.

Zack translates for his mom when things get going too fast and she gets confused, and Billy asks constant questions about why everyone’s doing what they’re doing, because it doesn’t really make sense, and Kimberly tries to draw out a family tree to help, and Jason buys the soap opera digest at the grocery store while he’s picking up his favorite protein power nonsense from when he was still on the team, and they’re still not totally sure what’s going on sometimes.  Trini’s secretly the only one who can keep track of everything, but she’ll only wade in and give them the right answer if they’ve been debating something for over 5 minutes.  Mostly they enjoy giggling together over it and the ways everybody’s misunderstandings make the show 1000 times better.

anonymous asked:

I'm stressed as all hell. Please, I beg, supper fluffy anything with McCree, Genji, and Lúcio. So many finals and projects in two weeks; I want to curl up in my bed and sleep forever.

Here comes fluff to heal your mental wounds and clear your skin.

I dunno why I felt like writing domestic dynamics but I found it pretty cute, so.

~~~

McCree

  • Y’all are one of couples that just work with/around each other without a second thought
  • You’ll be washing dishes and instead of handing you the cup he finished using, he’ll just stand behind you, slip his arms around you and wash the mug himself
  • He’ll be vacuuming and you’ll be sitting on the couch with your feet up on the coffee table, so he just picks up your legs and holds them until he’s finished vacuuming the area under them and around the close proximity; then he sets them back down and goes about his chore and you haven’t moved otherwise
  • You guys just use the bathroom simultaneously
  • You’re using the toilet while he’s brushing his teeth and (and just having casual conversation like yes you’re that couple)
  • Shared showers
  • He’ll be shaving while you’re brushing your teeth, then you’ll both do your together
  • You guys get dressed together as well and often ask for each other’s opinion on outfit ideas
  • You’ll probably always wear something of his, whether it’s a shirt, his hat, his boots (which are way too big), etc.
  • Y’all are that couple that likes to match for the sake of your own amusement and other people’s annoyance
  • If he’s cooking, he asks you what you want but usually just makes whatever BBQ, Southern meal he has in mind anyway
  • When you’re both working in the kitchen, the radio’s on and there’s regular dance breaks between cooking/setting the table/cleaning up
  • Dance breaks happen regularly, basically whenever there’s a song you both like (yes, even in public)
  • Sass Master Supreme Team
  • Prankster Supreme Team
  • Y’all are both the thing everyone hates and the thing everyone wants in a relationship
  • Two peas in a pod; best friends

Genji

  • Morning meditation and yoga sessions (you get to stare at your boy’s booty; it’s great)
  • Bi-daily sword and throwing star classes for you
  • Then you shower while he makes you breakfast
  • You either sit outside or in the dining room and just chat throughout the meal
  • He loves to help you pick out your clothes
  • Also asks to help with your hair
  • He is a fashionista boy indeed
  • Also he does all the chores
  • Like, nah, you need not worry about them
  • (Also imagine him wearing one of those stereotypical anime cleaning uniforms because that’s literally him)
  • Kind of a clean freak (because, y’know, order and stuff)
  • Likes to go out and about with you in town
  • Tbh. he just really enjoys being seen with you
  • ‘Cause you’re so perfect and stuff
  • You guys often walk the noodle dragon
  • I mean, it’s mainly the dragon hanging around your necks or arms but at least it’s getting some fresh air
  • When bedtime comes, he holds you close, hums Japanese ballads, and murmurs sweet little things to you in Japanese
  • He doesn’t really need to sleep (although, he can or something like it if he wants to), so most of the time he just spends the night watching you rest and making sure you’re comfortable throughout the night

Lucio

  • Lord help this wholesome boy he works so much
  • Concerts, clubs, fundraisers, charity events
  • Energetic boy in energetic but boy when he’s asleep, he’s asleep
  • Even if you sleep in until 1 p.m., he manages to sleep in later
  • He’s almost impossible to wake up too
  • Ya just gotta let his boy catch up on his Z’s
  • Before he goes to bed/Right after he wakes up, he’s such a sleepy cuddle bug
  • He’ll wake up at like noon and shuffle into the living room where you’re at, then he’ll just climb into the seat next to you and cozy up to you
  • If you’re trying to work, prepare to be nuzzled and smooched until you give him attention
  • Sometimes he’ll doze off again, other times y’all just end up snuggling on the couch for a while
  • Once he’s out of this state (which usually takes a shower, breakfast, and an energy drink), he’s back to his bubbly energetic self
  • Of course, he’s still cuddly as all heck
  • All touching and hugging and smooching
  • Invites you to every club, concert, or other event he had to go to because A) He doesn’t want to be away from you for a second and B) He doesn’t want to leave you out
  • You don’t have to say yes; he just wants to give you the option
  • He sings while he does anything
  • Chores? Singing. Showering? Singing. Getting all cozy and warm with you? Either humming or singing seductive lines to you (With other people, this last one may turn out to seem silly but boy does Lucio make another level of attractiveness)
  • He’s a sweet boy and wants to be around you at all times l e t h i m

matildaswan  asked:

park bench, Gay Shit(tm), berena

She finds her on the park bench - tucked away and lonesome on the grounds of the hospital - a cigarette perched between her slender fingers and her briefcase perched on her lap; lips downturned and face cast upward to the late night (early morning) sky. 

They’re new to each other. They’re in the first weeks of a nascent friendship - an affection built almost entirely in the same queues for coffee, the same elevator rides, the same godforsaken conferences, that drag on for hours and bore them to tears. They barely know each other, and Serena thinks briefly that she should leave her be, to her cigarette, to the stars. But she feels a surge of tenderness when Bernie lowers her face, catches her gaze, offers one of her pursed lip smiles (small, sincere). She shuffles a hand through her shock of wayward hair, crushes the cigarette on the ground beneath her shoes as Serena takes a seat next to her, far enough (close enough) for friends.

‘Bad day?’

‘The worst’, she laughs, low and humourless; and Serena turns, strains her eyes, can make out the low slump of her shoulders, the anxious fretting of her hands - twisting and pulling at the ring on her left hand (round and round) (on and off). 

‘I don’t wanna go home’, she says, chews at her lip instead of continuing, doesn’t know how to say that she doesn’t want to go home to him, to bed with him, breakfast with him, days and months and forever with him, with Marcus, and she hates herself for it. She clears her throat, instead, kicks at the dirt beneath her feet; furrows her brow. ‘It’s lonely there’.

Serena can see the constellation of freckles on her nose in the dull light of the moon, of the broken street light - and the way her face tenses, every muscle in her body tenses - desperate not cry; and she has no idea what to do. They barely know each other. She’s in no position to offer advice, to offer her a place to stay, a shoulder to cry on - and she’s sure she wouldn’t take it anyway. 

But she likes her. She likes her a lot. Finds herself quite desperate to be her friend, finds herself (unexpectedly, undeniably) invested in the happiness of Bernie Wolfe.

So she shuffles closer, moves so that her shoulder bumps against Bernie’s, so that their thighs brush each other’s - through her tight jeans, through her thin scrubs. So she stays, for a while, her warm breath making clouds in the cold air, a hand stretching out to rub briefly against her arm, quiet, affectionate, on the park bench with her. 

-

She finds her on the park bench  - tucked away and lonesome on the grounds of the hospital - a coffee in each hand; her lips stretched in a smile and her face turned upwards, eyes closed, towards the soft, fleeting heat of the mid-morning sun. 

‘You were supposed to sleep in’, she admonishes, as she comes closer, and Bernie lowers her face, hair in curtains around her happy expression. Serena had left her, early that morning, tangled in sheets and face buried in the pillow. Serena had left her with a kiss, at the corner of her mouth, near her ear, on the constellation of freckles which decorate her nose; jealous of her day off, desperate to crawl back into Bernie’s bed and tangle her naked limbs in her naked limbs. Her place is bare-boned, hardly lived in, and Bernie doesn’t feel much for it at all until Serena starts to leave her things there - bra over the bedside table, toothbrush in the bathroom, arm flung over Bernie’s middle, legs between Bernie’s legs.  ‘Can’t stay away?’

‘Just love this place too much’, she says, handing her the takeaway cup then hooking her free arm through Serena’s, pulling her closer and Serena’s heart feels full, feels light, feels everything at once for Bernie Wolfe.

She seems brighter (eyes wild, grin wide) as she leans forward, any attempts at hiding their relationship long since discarded and kisses her happy mouth with her happy mouth - chaste, careful, courageous. She lets her head fall, her aquiline nose rest against the line of her shoulder. Her slender fingers play with the material of her hoodie, pushed up around Serena’s elbows, and she peers upwards, cranes her neck towards Serena’s face.

‘Come back to mine again?’

Ease - Part 17

Genreangst/fluff

Pairingreader/taehyung

Length: 3.1k (sorry)

SummaryYou and your best friend Taehyung have recently got into the same university in the capital of Seoul. Hoping that this was your year to finally admit your romantic feelings towards your said best friend, uni seems an exciting prospect. But of course, the future never really goes according to plan.

Originally posted by jeonbase

1 ♡ 2 3 4 5 ♡ 6 7 ♡ 8 ♡ 9 ♡ 10 11 ♡ 12 ♡ 13 ♡ 14 ♡ 15 ♡ 16 ♡ 17 ♡ 18 ♡ 19 - End ♡ Moodboard

It became a habit, checking your phone every few minutes to see if there was a text, if there was a missed call. But every time, there would be nothing. Then that same old bitter feeling settled in your stomach, and it became harder and harder to focus on the essay you were writing. Eventually, you gave up and sat back, staring at the paper but not quite seeing it.

It was the day of the competition: the day you’d been waiting for for months, but it wasn’t going quite how you’d imagined it back then. Instead of getting ready excitedly with Jungkook, Hoseok and Yoongi, you were sat in your room tearing your hair out at the memory of Taehyung walking away from you with a betrayed look in his eyes. You’d told Jungkook what had happened, and how Taehyung’s parting words and the lack of communication confirmed that he’d dropped out of the dance, and Jungkook didn’t seem at all surprised.

“He can sulk for a long time,” he had explained, wincing as he walked into his kitchen, his ankle still causing him pain. “After so many years of knowing him, hasn’t he ever done that before?”

You had said he hadn’t, because when you fought, it never lasted long. Over the years, you’d relied on his forgiving nature, but this time was different. He knew how much this dance meant to you and Jungkook, so if he was willing to let it all fall through, he was seriously hurt. You didn’t blame him.

Yoongi had texted you that morning, asking whether Taehyung had given in and if you would be performing, and your eyes stung slightly as you typed out a simple no. You hadn’t forgiven yourself for what happened, so you didn’t expect Taehyung to either. For the past couple of nights, you’d eaten your way through several tubs of ice cream in front of the TV, feeling very sorry for yourself. Your housemates crept around you, not disturbing your binge and letting you eat your feelings away. However, on the day of the competition, it didn’t seem to be working, so you sat down to get some work done. Which also wasn’t working.

You had no energy left in you to win Taehyung round. Deep down, you knew keeping that secret from him would hurt in the long run, but you didn’t realise how much it would hurt. Everything seemed so futile, and it left you feeling empty. You had to force yourself to get out of bed, to eat, to take a shower, but your mind never once strayed from Taehyung.

As you stared out of your window at the cloudless sky, your phone began vibrating angrily against the wooden desk. It flashed up with a name, and your heart sunk when you realised it wasn’t Taehyung. It was your mother.

“Hey,” you answered, switching to English.

Y/N! You haven’t called recently, is everything okay?” came her chirpy yet slightly worried voice.

“I’m fine,” you swallowed, eyeing the bin that was full of empty ice cream tubs. “How’s home? Did you get the money I sent you?”

“I did, thank you. It’s all been sorted with the rent, so don’t you worry about that. You’ve done us a massive favour. Thank you, Y/N, honestly. But I was mainly calling about something else. I wanted to ask you about Taehyung…”

You took in a deep breath, readying yourself for whatever idea she’d come up with. Usually she’d ask you to invite him to some family outing that she’d spontaneously planned, whether it be a meal at a restaurant or a shopping trip in town. Excuses popped into your head to get out of asking Taehyung without arousing suspicion as your mother continued talking.

“It was quite strange. I was making a quick trip to the market to pick up some groceries, and I could’ve sworn I saw Taehyung walk past. So I called out his name, just to be sure, and he turned and looked around. He didn’t see me, but it meant I could see his face and it was definitely him. Has something happened in his family? Surely he’s missing classes by coming home.”

“What?” you asked flatly, standing up suddenly and sending your chair clattering to the floor. The door to Yeona and Mijung’s room opposite you opened, but you ignored it. “He’s in Daegu?”

“I saw his mum, but of course, I didn’t want to be insensitive so I just asked if Taehyung had some time off. She said he hadn’t, and I didn’t push her any further than that. Plus, I don’t speak enough Korean to ask anything else. Tae looked really sad, too, bless him.”

“He’s in Daegu,” you repeated hollowly, just as your bedroom door opened to reveal a slightly annoyed Yeona.

“Can you keep-”

“I’ve got to go,” you said down the phone, cutting off Yeona’s attempt at a scolding.

Not looking her in the eye, you brushed past Yeona as you hurried towards the front door, your mind in turmoil. Was it really that bad that Taehyung had to go home? Or was it something else? You had no idea, but you were certain that either Jin, Namjoon or Jungkook did.

Really, all you needed to do was send a text to Taehyung’s housemates, but you didn’t want to stick around to be told off by Yeona, and you weren’t doing anything else productive, so you began pacing it towards Taehyung’s house in the hot spring morning.


Taehyung’s house was loud with noise when you arrived, as they were all singing along to a song playing on Jungkook’s phone. Jimin standing in the mix, which took you aback slightly as he danced next to Jungkook and sang his heart out.

“Jimin,” you said bluntly, catching his attention. His face split into a grin as he ruffled his silver hair, but you couldn’t understand why he was there and Taehyung wasn’t, so your smile back was weak. “Where’s Taehyung?” you asked him.

Jimin just shrugged, so you turned the question onto the other boys. Jungkook paused the music so you could be heard properly, resulting in a few grumbles from the others. After repeating yourself, however, you were met with silence.

“Taehyung? I haven’t seen him since yesterday,” said Jin finally, beginning to frown.

“Nor me,” added Namjoon. “Although I heard him bashing around in his room for a bit, but nothing else. We thought he was with you.”

Jungkook’s eyes opened wide as he realised something was up. It was such an innocent look that you understood why he got away with annoying Namjoon so often.

“Taehyung’s gone home,” you explained sadly, hoping against all hopes that you weren’t the sole reason for his unexplained departure. “He found out that I knew about Yeji.”

“Knew what about Yeji?” asked Jin quizzically, the same confused expression on his face as Namjoon. “Wait, is this to do with the thing that you kept from him? When he told you he liked you before you met us in the park?”

Slowly and hesitatingly, you explained the whole situation, with the help of Jungkook and Jimin. You watched as Namjoon and Jin’s faces turned from confused to angry to sorrowfully understanding as you talked, your burdens lifting off your chest as you did so. It was shameful describing what you did, especially to your friends who had always been so kind and considerate . Jungkook and Jimin also looked embarrassed, as they too had kept the same thing from Taehyung, but there was no doubt in your mind it was your responsibility. After all, you were supposed to be his best friend.

“… and now because of that, Taehyung’s gone back to Daegu and I can’t compete in the dance competition,” you finished, looking around at the others and waiting for them to say ‘it’s your own fault’ or ‘what’s done is done’. Because it was true: there was nothing else you could do.

Strangely, however, Namjoon seemed to believe differently. “Well, you need to go bring him back for the competition.”

You just blinked several times, not quite expecting that response. “I need to do what?”

“I’m not seeing all your hard work go down the drain, just because of some silly misunderstanding,” declared Namjoon. “I understand why Taehyung was mad, but it’s plain unfair to ruin this for you. I say drive down to Daegu, apologise, and tell him to get his ass back to Seoul.”

Laughing at the absurdness of it all, you shook your head. “If he’s upset enough to go home and miss classes, then he’s not going to come back if I simply say sorry. Plus, I can’t drive.”

“Jin does.”

“It’s broken down,” mumbled Jin, his face downcast. “Why do you think I’ve been looking after Jungkook? I’m not doing this out of kindness, you know.”

“How about… train!” Namjoon called out triumphantly.

Again, you shook your head. “Too expensive. I appreciate the thought, I really do, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. I was just coming to check if there was another reason that he might’ve left, but I guess not. I’ll see you guys later.”

Walking towards the front door, you almost made it to the handle before a hand on your shoulder pulled you back. Wheeling around, you saw Namjoon standing right behind you, his dark eyes pitiful as he smiled softly.

“Don’t give up, okay?”

Looking down at your shoes, you tried not to let your face go red. “Namjoon, it’s too late. I’m tired of chasing him.”

He just chuckled lightly, giving your shoulder a firm squeeze before letting go and walking away backwards. “It’s never too late to fight for something,” he said, turning around and leaving you standing there, unsure and uncertain as to what to do next.


Going back to your house, you walked into the main sitting area and almost burst into tears then and there. Instead, you gulped heavily to rid the stone from your throat and sank down onto one of the sofas, cuddling a cushion in your lap. How could you fight for a lost cause?

“Y/N! It’s your turn to do the-” Jiwon paused as she saw your stricken face, not knowing how to react. You didn’t bother looking in her direction, as your mind was elsewhere and you couldn’t be bothered to bring it back. Instead, you let her slowly remove her body from her bedroom and tentatively move towards you, her slippers dragging on the wooden floor.

“Is everything okay?” she asked quietly in a high-pitched tone.

When you didn’t respond, she disappeared for a minute, but returned with reinforcements. Before you knew what was happening, all three girls were sitting around you, eyebrows upturned in worry.

“You’ve been acting really weird recently,” commented Mijung bluntly, her ponytails jiggling about furiously as she fidgeted about next to you. “What’s the matter?”

That’s all it took for you to completely spill everything. For so long, you’d been keeping things to yourself and suffering quietly, but you were on a roll. For the second time that day, you told your secrets. You told them all about Taehyung, about how you fell in love over the years, about the dance competition, and all the way up to how you messed up by keeping too many secrets. It felt wrong at first, as your housemates were the last people you thought you’d tell about anything, but eventually you were glad you did. Mijung wrapped her arms around your shoulders while Yeona and Jiwon mothered you with blankets, as well as making sympathetic noises and offering their support.

“We had no idea,” muttered Yeona. She seemed genuinely distressed, which contradicted her usual grumpy aura. Although you had been told it was because she worked so hard, your opinion of the older girl never changed until that moment.

“So, you fancy Taehyung, and he was going to dance with you, but he’s gone back to Daegu because you upset him,” stated Mijung, summarising your points, “and you can’t fetch him and bring him back to Seoul because you can’t drive. Right?”

“Why don’t you text him?” asked Jiwon.

“He’s ignoring them. I don’t think it’s something you can sort out over text, anyway,” you sniffled.

“I can drive.”

Your hanging head lifted to look at Jiwon, mouth falling open slightly.

“I was in a similar situation with my boyfriend,” she explained, fiddling with the corner of a cushion. “I kept secrets because I was scared he would judge me if he found out. It almost ruined things completely.”

“You’d be willing to drive down to Daegu for me?” you spluttered incredulously.

“This will be so fun!” squealed Mijung, clapping her hands. “Road trip!” Standing up, she hurried to her room, but Yeona and Jiwon didn’t question it. You wondered if they ever bothered questioning Mijung’s actions.

“But you… don’t like me?”

“Nonsense,” Yeona laughed loudly. “Sure, you’re noisy, but you’re not so bad. Us housemates have got to stick together, right? And if Y/N’s in a time of need, then it’s our duty to help out.”

“It’s a long drive,” you argued, not quite believing your luck.

“How long will it take to drive?” Yeona asked, biting her lip in anticipation.

“About three hours,” you responded, quickly glancing at Jiwon to see if she was frowning or not. Luckily, she nodded, and internally you cheered.

This was really happening, you thought to yourself. At the start of the year, you never would’ve thought that your housemates were willing to make an impromptu road trip to the other side of the country, just so you could participate in a dance competition. Scratch that, you wouldn’t have even thought that would ever happen an hour ago.

“We’ve got to plan this out,” instructed Yeona, immediately taking charge. “If we leave now, we’ll make it by mid-afternoon, leaving Y/N… not very long to win round Taehyung. By the time we get back to Seoul, the show would just be starting, if Y/N’s quick.”

“Sounds good to me!” cheered Mijung, coming back from her room with a crate of food. “I’ve got the provisions.”

“How…” began Jiwon, trailing off as she stared at the pile of snacks and drink cans that Mijung was struggling to carry, her small frame leaning backwards slightly to support the mound of food. Turning back to Yeona, she added, “We’ll be cutting it fine, won’t we?”

Yeona nodded. “Y/N, you’re going to have to be quick. Jiwon, you need to push the speed limits where you can, because if you’re late for shows like this, they don’t let you perform at all. They’re really strict on schedules.”

Adrenaline filled your body as you realised what you were about to do. Could you make it? The excitement pumped in your blood at the thought of dancing with Taehyung on stage, but it was a distant dream. If you didn’t have long to talk, you might not be able to convince him at all, and you didn’t want to waste people’s time by driving down to Daegu for nothing. But you wanted nothing more than to make Jungkook proud. After messing with his emotions for so long, it was the least you could do for him.

The girls began packing up the car while Yeona gave out strict orders on directions if there was traffic. Your heart swelled at the sight, knowing they were going out of their way to help you. It was strange how their personalities began to show, too. For so long, you’d assumed that both Jiwon and Yeona were crabby and snarky, and Mijung was slightly crazy, but you were pleasantly surprised to find out differently. Jiwon was slightly nervous, but seemed extremely intelligent, Yeona was a natural leader, as she was calm and in control, and Mijung was a devotee for food and seemed to have a positive outlook on absolutely everything. Your spirits were lifting by the second, knowing that your housemates weren’t completely heartless, and that you might still have a shot at the competition. And a shot at fixing things with Taehyung.

This might solve everything, or could be a complete disaster.

And you hoped and prayed it was the first.


An hour later, you were driving down the highway, Yeona sorting out timings and Mijung with you in the back asking you endless questions about Taehyung. The car was a mess already, with sweet wrappers everywhere and a strong smell of vanilla wafting through the air, despite the air con being on full blast. There was also a sticky residue near your feet, which you believed was Mijung’s fault, as during a two minute pit stop her drink went from full to almost empty, but she denied the accusations. Despite the litter crunching under your shoes, it was quite comfortable sinking back into the chair and letting your head rest against the cool glass of the window.

“Basically, you both like each other, and neither of you knew for years?” she asked, sucking on a lollipop that turned her lips blue.

“He was subtle about it,” you explained. “It was only when my friend pointed it out, I realised. I don’t know, I guess I just thought he was being friendly.”

“I wish you’d told us sooner. I would’ve immediately told you he was flirting. I have a romantic eye” said Mijung proudly.

You shuffled in your seat uncomfortably. It wasn’t the fact that you didn’t want to become friends, but more because of the rudeness and constant scolding you received had put you off. Although they were never your dream housemates, and they were nothing compared to what Taehyung had, but they were helping you do something that was completely insane, and you were eternally grateful.

Eventually, a couple of hours later, the buildings started becoming familiar as you reached the outskirts of Daegu, and you began directing Jiwon towards your house. You passed fields and small farms, all of which brought you nostalgia of the times where everything was so much simpler. A time when there was no heartbreak, no confusion, no secrets. High school was extremely stressful, as you were working well into the night just to get a good grade, so even though you’d never go back, you still missed how your life was back then.

“What are you going to say to him?” Mijung asked softly, as if she knew you were growing more and more nervous as you drew closer.

You shrugged, keeping your eyes out of the window and watching the trees and bushes flash by. “I guess sorry would be a start.”

“Don’t panic,” she reassured. “If he really loves you, he’ll let you in.”

Something told you she wasn’t talking literally.

Playing Pretend

Yoongi slowly walked toward the small house snuck in between bigger buildings at the end of the street. He needed to do this, it had been weeks since he’d last talked to his mother and he was sure she was getting antsy, if the the 121 missed calls and 53 voice messages meant anything. This was just how his life was and he needed to suck it up. Cause Yoongi had learned early on that pity and sadness only equated weakness. When he arrived at the door, he saw it was just as beaten down as the last time he’d seen it, the paint chipped so bad that it looked like an animal had attacked it. He sighed and rang the doorbell, adjusting the one cheap tie he had bought years ago for occasions like this. His suit was two sizes too big and his dress shirt still had a stain from his last visit (hopefully his mother wouldn’t be able to tell). I mean Yoongi wasn’t poor, far from that, his “extracurricular activities” paid well. But Yoongi also believed in not using money where it wasn’t needed. The money it would take to buy a better suit, he could just give to his mom. Combing his hair with his fingers one last time, Yoongi took in a deep breath and pasted on a fake smile. The door creaked open and before him stood his small, stocky mom. Frown lines more prominent, hair grayer, but smile just as bright as ever. Yoongi loved his mother (She was the only family that was worth shit anyway). And he knew what it would do to her to know how he actually survived. So a couple times a year he would dress up in his “office worker” costume and play pretend. He didn’t want to be a bigger disappoint than he already was. Right when she saw him, Yoongi was pulled into a bone crushing hug that smelled of cinnamon and old memories.

“Momf I canth brefthe” Yoongi muffled as his moms relentless hold tightened.

“That’s what you get for making me worried for days. Come back sooner. Have you no respect for your mother. I wait and wait and you never call or com-”

“Alright, alright sorry, I know I suck, I should come more often, but um… work gets very stressful mom.” Yoongi said cutting her off and finally pulling out of the hug. As soon as he mentioned work, his mothers face fell into a sympathetic and worrisome state.

“They’re not overworking you are they. If they are Yoongi say something, they can’t treat you however they want you know” His mother stated defiantly. Worked up on Yoongi’s behalf. She led him into the house and walked straight to the kitchen. If Yoongi knew his mother, he knew there was a feast waiting for him.

“I know mom. Thanks” he sighed sitting down at the table with copious amounts of food on it. “How do you always out do your self. Mom I’m not starving. I don’t send you money just so you can make me dinner that could feed an army.”

“Just say thank you and eat the food. If I don’t spend money on my boy then who else would I spend it on.” She asked, incredulous. She sat down beside him and started placing food on his spoon and plate. “I only need to see you happy to be happy.” Yoongi’s mom was a sap, and she knew just the words to melt his heart. Had it been anyone else, Yoongi would’ve scoffed and degraded their entire existence, but to his mother he could only smile and shove his face. He knew the routine by now, after stuffing himself with food until he weighed about 20 lbs heavier, Yoongi would be asked a series of questions regarding his personal life, then he would mention his workload and his mom would pack him the food he wasn’t able to finish (which could honestly last him a month) and he’d be on his way. The process took about 3hrs. It was simple and always the same. Except this time Jimin had called him nearing the end of the personal questionnaire portion of the evening and his mother had seen the contact info before he quickly hung up. Now he could’ve made any excuse to who Jimin was, If the idiot thug wasnt as possessive as he was, and hadn’t changed his name in Yoongi’s phone from “Rich Asshat” to “❤️Jiminie❤️”. I mean yeah he’d done it months ago, which gave Yoongi plenty of time to change it back, but Yoongi’s excuse of always being too busy remained strong. (Also there was the fact that his name was saved as “Suga😍👌🏾👅” in Jimins phone and he secretly loved the personal feeling it gave off, but you’d catch him dead before he admitted that). So instead of 3hrs it took 4 and a half, as he kept repeating that Jimin wasnt anything serious but rather just a casual relationship. And the hearts around his name were a joke, but his mother wasn’t truly convinced. So he now had to bring Jimin to dinner next time he came, and it had to be before the month ended, or he’d “see his mother’s wrath”. Yoongi grumbled and pouted the rest of the night and huffed an annoyed sigh as he grabbed the bags of food and gave his mother a kiss on the check as he left her home.

“I’m excited to see him.” She smiled, and then narrowed her eyes and continued, “and if I don’t then you won’t have a mother either.” Dramatic was her middle name.

“Yeah yeah” he waved as he left her behind. Playing pretend for his mother was a habit by now. And he sometimes believed she played along. How else would the warm scene of a broken down family, which consisted of a alcoholic, weak mother and her prostitue son making ends just barely meet make sense. Playing pretend was all the two had left, and they took their roles seriously. Cause when Yoongi left the cabinet under the sink would open and wouldn’t close the day before Yoongi next came. Their fucked up lives took breaks for only 3hrs a couple of times a year. Maybe that’s why when Yoongi was far away, he pulled out his phone and dialed the first name on his missed calls list.

“I don’ like it when ya keep me waitin darlin” the voice slurred as Jimin picked up the call.

“I was busy. With my mom. I told you. Why’d you call” he replied short and straight.

“Cuss I missd’ ma baby, and wanted ta play” Jimin continued, voice filled with flirtations. Yoongi fought back a smile, and kept his voice emotionless, he was prostitute, that owed Jimin a shit ton, nothing more and nothing less.

“On my way. But I need to talk to you about something. A favor.” Yoongi said, fully aware of the teasing that would follow.

“Anotha one, ya really like usin’ me don’ ya. Guess we'r jus gonna have ta add it ta ya list. What does ma darlin need.” Jimin asked amused. Yoongi sighed, this would probably equal a 2 weeks worth of fucking, but it really didn’t matter, he basically owed Jimin for life. And he wasn’t really complaining about it either.

“I’ll tell you when I see you.” Yoongi replied, “it’s not that big of a deal compared to what I’ve asked of you before”

“At this point it don’ matta darlin, I’m doin errythin for ya. An I don’ mind” Jimin answered with the same amused and flirtatious voice that now somehow seemed reserved for Yoongi. “Can’ wait ta feel ya baby” he added his voice dipping low. Yoongi hid the arousal from his voice as he just hummed back and then proceeded to end the call. He knew was fucked, but hey at least he was also getting fucked.

For @ask-gangtan (I’m obsessed)