ticked face


Ok. I saw this prompt and could not resist.
I had to do it!

I like to think that Ichigo would be a bit of a softy. So he would sneak their kid the cookie. Unfortunately, his stealth skills are not that great. So he can never pull one over on Rukia. 

And yes, Rukia is pregnant and Ichigo is being protective. But not so much that he smothers her. He just can’t help himself, he worries. 

The curry thing I got from The Honey Dish Rhapsody. Plus, we all know Ichigo loves spicy food. So it was quite the risk, ignoring her rules. 

Poor Ichigo. 

The prompt is here: http://janefoster.tumblr.com/post/102210382163/okay-but-if-your-otp-had-a-kid-which-one-would 

Commission Info

Sick!Yoosung x Tsundere!Reader

For some reason, (F/N) really seemed to hate Yoosung Kim. His adorable disposition, and cute face just ticked her off everytime she saw it, which was quiet frequently. As his peer and a fellow RFA member, Yoosung and (F/N) crossed paths quite often.

To anyone who knew her, it wasn’t a surprise that she could find anything to hate someone over…especially over something stupid like being late.

(F/N) sat rigidly in her chair at a small café, picking at the plastic lid on her coffee. She was mentally cursing her blond friend for being twenty minutes late. He wasn’t signed into the RFA chat and she hadn’t seen him all morning. Instead of worrying or wondering if something was wrong, (F/N) just grew irritated.

Before she could call him and chew him out, the café door’s bell jangled noisily and Yoosung stepped through the door. His nose and cheeks were bright red and his dyed blonde hair was limp, the dark brown roots showing at the top.

He sat down across from her and took his hoodie off, revealing a green longsleeved shirt underneath it. “Sorry, I guess I caught a cold or something,” he explained, digging his textbooks out of his backpack and laying them across the table.

“Next time you’re late I’m going to hack your LOLOL account,” (F/N) threatened. Yoosung just rolled his eyes and began penning down equations. He wasn’t the best at math but (F/N) often tutored him.

“When is your test?” She leaned back in her chair and started on an English packet.

“Uhh…Wednesday, I think.” He continued sipping coffee but then suddenly stopped, a weird expression crossing his face.

Then he sneezed…

…all over (F/N)…..

…..with a mouthful of coffee.

She cringed as the warm liquid soaked through her shirt and dripped down her skin and face. Yoosung fervently apologized and handed her several of the thin paper napkins from off of the table. They weren’t much but at least they were dry.

“You should have been resting today, idiot.” (F/N)’s voice was as sharp as a knife and harsh enough to make even herself flinch.

Yoosung looked slightly taken aback even though he knew this was how she normally acted. “Fine,” he said quietly. She had grown more aggressive and overall just…mean to him lately.

In all honesty, (F/N) felt guilty as she watched him gather up his things and leave, but she didn’t want to go after him, to let him know she cared.

She quickly finished her coffee and got up to throw it away when she noticed a small green button on the floor. It must have fallen off of Yoosung’s hoodie as he went to leave.

She knelt down to the ground and held it between her fingers, noticing the words “LOLOL” written on it. He had two different colored ones but the green was a prize for winning a tournament. It really meant something to him.

Realizing he wouldn’t answer her texts after the blow-up and that she didn’t want to go over there for a single button, (F/N) decided to pick a few things up from the store for him.


With a heavy heart, Yoosung sat down at his desk to play a quick game of LOLOL to calm his nerves, but he only ended up dying and wasting his lives.

He didn’t really understand why (Y/N) got so angry, and no one was online so he couldn’t ask. Unsure of what to do he slipped his headphones off of his ears and hung them on his computer.

He felt awful.

His nose was stopped up and his throat was unbearably scratchy. He probably had a fever even though his body was practically ice cold.

Yoosung stood up and padded his way into the kitchen, not caring about the small mountain of homework that was scattered across the hardwood floor. He had way too much on his mind for that, anyway.

He began pouring a small bowl of cereal but was interrupted by a quick knock at the door. The milk sloshed out of the carton and onto the countertop where it pooled unceremoniously underneath a stack of bills and college flyers.

A few years ago the bills would all be taken care of and his homework would be completed on time but he didn’t feel up to anything anymore. Rika had taken a large chunk out of him when she died and he tried desperately to fill that void with LOLOL and hobbies that never stuck.

That’s not true, he began to think.

As soon as he met (F/N), she began checking in on him every day to make sure he was eating or doing his schoolwork. She claimed not to even like him but Yoosung suspected differently. She was strange and she showed her affection in weird ways but he was sure that she liked him.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the door swinging open and the (short/tall) (h/c) girl stepping inside. She had shopping bags looped onto her arms and an intense look on her face that never seemed to go away.

How long ago was their fight? Yoosung couldn’t even remember.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the blond boy said awkwardly. “You’ll get sick too.”

The girl snorted and turned around, a handful of milky paper towels clutched in her left hand. “You spit all over me, remember? I doubt cooking for you is going to kill me…” Her (e/c) eyes widened as she realized what she said and she tossed the paper towels away angrily. “…idiot.”

Yoosung brightened slightly but still felt down somehow. He knew he shouldn’t, especially since his friend was clearly trying to care for him (despite her rough appearance).

She heated up a bowl of homemade chicken soup and made him eat it all, even though eating made him just want to throw it all up. The warm soup made him overly hot but he was somehow shaking and sweating.

“Go lay down,” (F/N) ordered as she cleared the table and set the dirty dishes in the sink. Yoosung thought her voice sounded slightly rough but just brushed it off.

He did as she said, but left the blankets kicked to the foot of his bed. He had a slightly childish apartment, stars everywhere and stuffed animals on his bed. He cradled a deer plushie to his chest and yawned loudly, suddenly exhausted.

(F/N) watched quietly as she leaned on the kitchen island, drying off an orange plastic bowl with a rough towel. She wouldn’t admit it ever, but she thought Yoosung was cute. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes were now lazy, like he could barely keep them open.

Before she could control herself, (F/N) began to crack a real smile, a genuine one. Yoosung watched through slitted eyelids as the girl’s expression transformed into something much prettier, much more lively.

“You’re kind of cute when you’re sick,” she whispered quietly to herself. Yoosung barely caught the sentence through his exhaustion, but he still understood.

“What was that?”

“I said you’re a stupid piece of shit,” she grumbled and crossed her arms. A sneeze tickled the back of her sore throat, an obvious sign that she was also getting sick.

“Yeah right,” Yoosung mumbled, patting the space next to him. (F/N) reluctantly crawled into bed next to him and allowed herself to doze off once she heard his methodical breathing. Yoosung pulled her closer and noted with a small chuckle, that she still smelled like coffee.

Really old fic reposted from my Wattpad (@/iwatobi-gay-club) since my 707 x Reader is taking longer than usual. I originally entered this in a contest but like 50% of this is from experience rip also I have no experience writing Tsunderes 😂

Save My Sister (A Teen Wolf Imagine)

THIS WAS REQUESTED! my masterlist is ready to go here. If you want something written you can request it right here!

You sat at the stained dining table, tapping your pen against the table as you looked down at your homework, silently cursing your science teacher for assigning such BS. You peered up at the clock watching as the tiny hand ticked ominously around the face, it was almost 12 am, and your brother was meant to be back no later than 10:30 pm. You needed your brother to be home, your dad would be back soon, and if Isaac wasn’t here you would be in deep trouble. You picked up your phone, dialling Isaac for the twentieth time that night.

“Hi, you’ve reached Isaac. I can’t take your call right now but leave a message after the beep and I’ll try to get back to you.” You bit your lip when you reached voicemail again.

“Isaac! Please come home. Dad’s going to be back soon.” You pause, hoping Isaac would know what you were implying, it wasn’t like your dad only abused you. “Please Isaac please.” You begged, before hanging up. You sat at the table filling in a couple more questions that littered your workbook. You heard the front door bang open. Your breath began to pick up as you heard your father’s heavy footsteps echo down the hallway. You could smell the whiskey that rolled off of the man’s body. “Where’s your brother?” Your father slurred from the doorway, looking down at you. “I’m sorry, he isn’t home yet. I tried to call him but he won’t pick up!” you gushed out the end, trying to redeem yourself. But you knew it was too late. This night would be a repeat of countless nights before, already feeling the bruises litter your arms, legs and torso. You squeezed your eyes shut, sending a prayer in your head to whoever might be listening. Your father ran a hand over your neck, squeezing slightly. “You stupid bitch.” He growled, pulling you up from your seat. He had an iron grip on your arm, squeezing tightly as he raised his hand. Slap. His heavy hand making contact with your cheek, your head snapping to the side. Tears prickled behind your eyes, threatening to spill over. Your father lifted you, throwing you against the wall. Your back thumped painfully, your head ringing from the impact. “Please.” You begged, watching your father raise his half empty bottle above his head. He flung the bottle , it crashed against the wall, whiskey and glass raining over your head. The alcohol burning the cuts that the glass left as you gasped in pain. Your father charged towards you again, picking you up from the floor  as you whimpered in pain. Without thinking your father threw you, your head cracking menacingly against the corner of the table. Blood flowing down onto your neck. You lay unresponsive, unmoving on the ground, blood pooling around your head. Your father looked down at you, before spitting at you and walking away.

Isaac had been at Derek’s, he was trying to avoid going home as much as possible, and eventually feel asleep on his alpha’s couch. He woke up to find a dark loft, Isaac sat up and rubbed his eyes, turning on his phone to check the time. 1:30 am. And 23 missed calls from Y/N. Crap. Isaac had left you at home with the wrath of your father. He cursed, instantly grabbing hic coat and running out of the loft.

“Y/N?” He called into the quiet house, there was no response aside from his drunken father’s snores. He walked quickly into the kitchen, looking around for you. He saw something that made his blood run cold, your legs, laying motionless on the hard floor. “Y/N?” He called, walking around to look at you. He bit back a cry when he saw you. You looked dead. Blood pooling around your head, with bits of glass embedded in your temple and shoulders. “Jesus.” He knelt beside you, feeling for a pulse. It was there, but barley, only a light flutter beneath his shaking fingers. He knew what he had to do. Picking you up bridal style, Isaac rushed out of the house, listening to your muffled heart beat as he ran towards Derek. He sprinted up the stairs, ignoring the burning in his arms and legs. Isaac found the door still open from when he left. “DEREK!” Isaac yelled, his voice echoing through the loft. “DEREK!” Isaac laid you on the couch, kneeling beside you and grabbing your hand. Derek came running down stairs, half dressed and half changed. “What happened? I smell blood!” Isaac beckoned him over. “It’s Y/N, she’s dying.” He gasped. “Derek please she needs the bite,” Isaac cried, tears leaking out of his eyes as he looked at his baby sister’s pale form. Derek nodded walking beside Isaac. Lifting your forearm and sinking his canines in, blood flooding into his mouth.

You awoke to a foreign ceiling, you hastily sat up. You felt different. Powerful. You touched your head, expecting to feel bits of glass and dried blood or bandages at the least. But you felt only smooth skin. Your older brother Isaac was sleeping on a chair next to you. “Isaac!” You whisper yell, causing him to wake with a start. “Oh thank god Y/N.” He pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tightly. “Isaac, what happened to me?” You asked.

“I found you bleeding out. I bought you back and-“ he gulped “Derek gave you the bite.”

“Oh” was al you could say as you continued to hug him, digesting what you had just been told.

A/N: I reallly enjoyed writing this! From Thursday onwards I am free full time, so hopefully I can work on some more stuff for everyone. I hope you all have a nice night/day, and feel free to drop in with any requests xxx

@knightedscientist continue from here

“Hello Nyssa, it’s always a pleasure to see such a face from my memory that I recognize these days.”

Ian Chesterton was starting to grow oddly worried about his memory, thanks to the events of the Time Museum, a man trying to steal them, he had been constantly working to rebuild his life, his state of mind, memoirs and photographs and snatches of letters, anything that would help keep his mind ticking over.

Old faces, like Nyssa’s, they helped more than they knew.

“Come in, I’ll make you some tea.”

“I am glad to get the occasion to meet with you again”

Life was very strange: after all this time she had been away of Earth and the several possibilities offered by time and space inside the magnitude of the galaxy, attached to a single period of time that flowed gently; she was again confronted with memories of the past. He hadn’t changed from the brief time she had encounter him.

“I appreciate that greatly. How are you?”


A/N - for @startswithhope to celebrate the anniversary of her birth, if a few days late.  Enjoy a little fluffy steam and the hint of a happy ending for our beloved duo!

There’s a storm raging outside, the wind howling around the eaves as rain lashes the windows and lightning brightens the otherwise pitch-black sky. The house is dark, the fire in the fireplace the only source of light in the house. Curled up on the couch, blanket tucked around her legs, she holds a white ceramic mug in both hands, fingers curled around it as peppermint steam billows in the air above it.

She waits for him, eyes flicking periodically to the clock on the wall, her worry growing as the minute hand ticks around the face. Normally, she wouldn’t mind his tardiness (she’s not the type of girlfriend to demand to know where he is every second of every day), and she knows he tends to lose track of time out on the water.

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