tw au*

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Boss Ladies AU (6/?): Elizabeth brings in a ringer to help protect her emails but Cat and Mellie have different concerns (collab with @fictorium)

Bonus:

anonymous asked:

Hi! So I was looking for this summer camp au where I think it was dan Phil some twins and and a person Phil met?? I think one of the twin's names was Mariah or something. I think Dan's doubtful about his sexuality and Phil has the worst fear of horses and his cabin got horse riding as an activity. Thanks!

The Summer (ao3) - (tw) Dan Howell has spent the last three summers at Camp Bergamot, but it’s never been quite like this before. This year, he faces a summer full of new friends, a new relationship, and an entirely new view on his own sexuality. Perhaps Camp Bergamot should be renamed camp self discovery for all the changes Dan has gone through, but one thing’s for sure - despite all the hiccups and the drama, he just might have found the love of his life.

- Emily

I take you with me // L.D. 3

Warnings: panic attack, angst,

Words: 622

Request: see part one

A/N: this is the last part; i didn’t really put of of the request into it sorry, but i think its  a fitting ending; also this is not edited; I DONT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT PANIC ATTACKS AND I DIDNT RESEARCH IT SO PLS DONT GIVE ME SHIT IF I GOT IT WRONG

Part 1 / Part 2


“No. No, no, no, no!”, he whispered choking. His eyes got watery, tears threatening to spill. Just as Y/N wanted to move, the teen shoved his way out of the room.

He ran. Ran like his life depended on it. He didn’t want her to see him this way. He tries so hard, so fucking hard to keep this hidden from her.

And it worked, she didn’t Know about his damn I.E.D until know. She didn’t suspect a thing and know everything is ruined. Fucking ruined.

Tears were streaming down his face. He felt broken. Sob after sob crawled it’s way up his throat.

His throat started to close up. He couldn’t breath. A horrible pain started to interrupt in his chest. He choked on his tears. He couldn’t stop gasping for air and coughing. His throat burned up. His vision was long gone, just blurry outlines were seen in front of him.

It was cold. He forgot were he was, he forgot about the time. The only thing he was sure about was breathing. Tears streaming even harder down his face, the pain in his throat getting worse.

Black spots appeared in front of his eyes.


He didn’t realize that arms wrapped around his torso. He didn’t realize that he was pulled into an embrace. He didn’t realize someone was whispering into his ear. He only heard the steady thudding sound. The sound that broke through his panic. The sound he could focus on.

Slowly his breathing became normal again. Slowly the pain in his throat and chest began to subside. And still the steady thudding, the heartbeat, was there.

He began to realize his situation. He was sitting in someones lap, his head pressed against a chest, soothing noises coming from just above his head.

He lifted his head and looked up. He didn’t expect it at all. To see you. See you sitting here in the middle of the hall with him and calm him down from his panic attack.

A happy sign left his lips and he pressed himself against your chest once more, before he suddenly tried to run again.

You hold him. Your arms tightly wind around his chest. Once again you tried to calm the young boy, by cooing softly into his ear.

“Liam? Liam what’s going on baby?” “No, no, no. You weren’t supposed to know. You weren’t fucking supposed to know about it”, tears were once again forming in his eyes.

“Baby, what wasn’t I supposed to see? You, having an outburst?” When the brunet didn’t answer, you just signed slightly and pressed him even more into you.

“Oh baby boy, do you really thing I didn’t know about your I.E.D.?” Shocked he looked up to you, “Y- you knew?” “Of course I knew. I do need to inform myself about my future son, don’t I?”,you smiled. “Yeah, I gue-. Wait what did you say?” “Thar I got to inform myself about my future son” “Do, do you mean me?” “Of course, Liam. Who else would I mean?”, you giggled.

“But you know about my I.E.D. Aren’t you deterred?” “Why should I be? Everybody got some little problems, Liam. And nobody’s perfect. And all your little problems make you who you are. My son, and you’re perfect for me”

Without another word he clung himself onto you. Not letting you go, until you told him it was time to see his new home.


You two were on your way home, when it happened.

“Y/N? Do you still have that dog you told me about?” “Of course, baby. Are you excited to meet her?””So much, I never had a dog mom”, he smiled. “Oh you missed out a whole lot Li”, you laughed softly.


Masterlist

A Thousand Stolen Kisses

Pairing: Anyone (M) x Reader
Genre: fluff/slight angst + reincarnation au
TW: mentions of death
Word count: 1.7K

Summary: It didn’t matter which lifetime he was in, because he knew that he would spend it loving her. Loosely based on 25 Lives by Tongari.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

86 and andreil??

86: “Perhaps you’ll take me out one day — or do I have to make an appointment?” (I combined this with a prompt from foxpaws10 from ages ago based on this post, and I kind of warped both of your prompts i hope this is still okaaay basically it’s doctor andrew and that’s all u need to know)

His morning is a string of disasters that begins with covering the ER in the Sunday rush of hypochondriac elderly and fussy children. It’s one long stretch of kicked over paint buckets, a mess you can’t ignore, splattering the walls and getting on his shoes.

Andrew chose surgery almost entirely for the distance of it, the sterility of a room with a slab of meat, a tray of knives, and a sickness he can actually cut out.

He’s a doctor because he can be, and patients sometimes like that he doesn’t speak a word to them, like silence equals genius.

He likes that there are some patients that come into the ER unconscious and leave the OR unconscious, and all he has is a problem and a ticking clock. He always solves the problem. He thinks maybe it’s because he is one.

The sinking ship of his Sunday in the emergency room goes from slippery to debilitating with one patient.

Two showy ER doctors with their lab coats off and their sleeves rolled up go into the private room they’ve cordoned off, and they both come out looking pinched in the face with their stethoscopes clenched in their fists.

“He’s a fucking disaster,” one of them says, leaning up against the information desk with his eyes still pulling back to the closed door of the room.

“I know. I thought, I dunno. That the news was exaggerating.”

Andrew tilts his head and listens without making any move to leave his post, filling out inane charts as illegibly as he can.

One of the residents chances a look at him and Andrew makes a point of catching him. The guy startles, then juts his chin.

“Maybe you’ll get along with him, Minyard. He’s as crazy as you.”

“You’ve mistaken the hospital for a playground,” Andrew says mildly. “Give me his chart.”

“What?”

“His chart.”

He looks at his friend, mouth slack, and then the one holding the chart holds it out like a dirty rag.

“He’s Boston’s starting striker,” he stage whispers. Andrew takes the clipboard and ignores him, scanning the details. “We’re not supposed to let any patients know.”

“That Neil Josten is causing a scene ten feet away from them?” he says, and the men titter uncomfortably. “Why should he get the luxury of privacy?”

“How did you—“

“The news is available to everyone, Bryant, you fuck.” He rounds the desk and makes for the closed and shuttered room, dropping the chart in the receptacle outside.

“He shouldn’t be allowed to practice,” someone says behind him, and then someone else, softer, scornful: “surgeons”.

Andrew wrings the door knob and finds himself abruptly face to face with the singular most swollen person he’s ever seen. He’s obviously bolting for it, his gown gaping at the neck and someone’s stolen shoes jammed on. Andrew scans the defiant face, the shock of red hair, the near invisible trail of blood from an incorrectly removed IV.

“Sit down.”

“No.”

Andrew watches Neil Josten— and it is him, one of the handful of strikers on Boston’s team and certainly the most newsworthy — size him up. His eyes run the same circuit Andrew’s would if he were looking to fight his way out: door, threat, surreptitiously behind him for a weapon, back again.

“I’ll drug you,” Andrew says simply. Neil’s good eye, the one that isn’t purpling, goes narrow.

“Are you allowed to say that?”

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2

just another sterek pic of them doing stuff before going to sleep that nobody asked for but that i still drew bc i need to relax or othervise school will drive me insane ;__; (drawing this and not doing stuff for school might be the biggest reason why i’m runing out of time and panic but THAT’S NOT THE POINT :’D!!)

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PART 2 OF 2

Oh, did you think you were going to have to wait ages and ages before Part 2? Don’t worry fam, I gotchu.  ;)

Forgive me if the dialogue is overly cheesy, I’m not really a writer.  ^^;

(Headcanon: Nino loves Alya’s floofy hair, and will often subconsciously pet it or find himself running his fingers through it, especially while cuddling or when offering comfort)

P.S. WHY did I decide to make Alya’s shirt plaid, AUGH!!  Such a pain to draw!

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT MY PERMISSION OR TINY PUPPIES WILL GET SAD

PART 1