#i already keep a hoodie next ot my bed to put on first thing in the morning

[airenyah]

might fuck around and get myself a chinzhilla hoodie blanket

[ellavogues]

sunday mornings - harry styles

summary: your relationship with harry has always been ‘whatever it is’, although you both secretly long for more.

a/n so this was originally posted on my old blog which i deactivated, but im too proud of this to let it be gone forever <3

Sunday mornings always seem to start the same. You’re cozied up in his bed, head on his chest and his arm splayed across you, the light shining through the gaps of his curtains.

Memories from the night before tend to replay in your head as you wait for him to wake up - from the pre game at his house, to his hand on the small of your back leading you out to his car and only leaving to open the door for you, to the club or shitty frat party that he had somehow weaseled his way into where he’d hold your hand while he filmed and makeout with you in the corner once he had finished.

Then the journey home. Harry being the only sober one of his friends almost always ended up being the designated driver, dropping all of them off at their respective households. Not that he minded, it was the perfect opportunity for him to talk to you.

It was always incredibly easy talking to him. He was good at small talk, and he was good at turning small talk into meaningful and often fun conversations.

Conversing was one of his many talents you told him as he was dropping his friend off at his house one night. Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the unique compliment you gave him, his hand landing gently in your thigh, giving it a small squeeze as his head tilted slightly back as he laughed.

“Baby, what does that even mean?” He chuckled, shaking his head as he tilted it to look at you. You could get lost in his eyes.

Even after six months of whatever your relationship with Harry was, your heart still skipped a beat every time he called you baby. You tried fruitlessly to stop ot hide the blush rising to your cheeks as a result of the nicknames he called you, but he never missed it.

It was one of his favorite things to see; something as simple as a pet name got you all nervous in the best way.

Despite Harry being better at hiding it, you had the same effect on him. Whether it’s you calling him Haz (you’re the only person he’ll allow it from) or you playing with his hair while you watch your show together, he gets butterflies in his stomach every time.

One day, when you came over for a movie night and ice cream, you came with a bunch of shopping bags. Harry’s first reaction was to wind you up, tease you for your frivolous shopping habits. But when you set your bags down and reached into one of them, feeling around for something and pulling out a T-Shirt and hoodie - a men’s T-Shirt and hoodie - Harry’s expression turned from playful and confused.

“What’s that for?” He asked casually, eyebrows furrowed.

“I was shopping for myself and I saw these and I, I thought they would look good on you,” you tell him, honestly nervous as to how he’d react. You had no idea how serious the two of you were, and whether this gesture, as simple as it may be, would scare him off.

But Harry’s confused face turned into a smile, relieving any anxieties you had. He couldn’t believe you thought of him when you saw these clothes and then cared enough about him to buy it.

That’s when he realized he loved you. And it scared the shit out of him.

He wore the hoodie to pick you up the next Saturday, repeating your weekly routine of hanging out then going out. He took everyone to a new bar that just opened that night, and invited some other friends outside of his usual group to join.

You had to watch some girls you’ve never met (but Harry clearly has) flirt with him while he wore a hoodie you bought. You hated how much it infuriated you, because despite how much you longed for him to be yours, he wasn’t. Your relationship with him was just whatever it was.

And you hated it because you loved him. And you hated that you loved him.

The next morning, Sunday morning, you woke up in his arms wearing his T-Shirt. Anyone would think that you were his, but you weren’t. You were the first to wake up, as always, and Harry was snoring beneath you. You felt like his, but you weren’t.

The week flew past, you only came over a few times for a movie night and to keep him company while he edited. Both times he wanted you to sleep over, so both times you did. How could you ever say no to him?

But the next day, when you woke up, he was gone already - off to some meeting or to film. You didn’t want to let it hurt you, because you knew how busy he was, how hard he worked. He doesn’t have time for a relationship with you more than whatever it was.

So you chose to ignore the pit in your stomach that only grew every time you left his house or every time he left early. You grabbed your things, shot him a text, and left, pretending it didn’t bother you. Because it didn’t bother you. That was just how things were, and how they had to be.

The next Sunday morning, he broke your heart.

Things were too complicated, there were too many strings and they were all beginning to get knotted. He needed to untie them before the knot got too big.

And you understood, like you always do. It was for the best, if he kept whatever the relationship you two had going any longer, you might’ve fallen too hard and obtained permanent damage only he could mend. So you just nodded in understanding, not daring to meet his eyes, as he tried to let you down gently.

It broke his heart too.

Harry didn’t realize at first, he thought that with you gone his love for you would vanish as quick as you did. But he was reminded by it constantly. He found himself staring at the hoodie you bought him, until he got so frustrated and confused that he tore it off the hanger and threw it to the back of his wardrobe. But then he started seeing your face in all the little things you two used to always share, like the fluffy blue blanket on his couch and the cookies you got him hooked on.

Eventually he found himself laying on his bed alone on a Sunday morning with the fluffy blue blanket and the hoodie you bought him.

You both tried dating, but it didn’t fill the freshly dug hole in your hearts.

The thing with knots is that they’re hard to untie and the strings remain tangled. The harder you pull the strings in opposite directions, the tighter the knot gets.

When some girl Harry was on a date with a random Saturday night told him he was a good conversationalist, he rudely and abruptly told her he had to leave and this wasn’t going to work out. His anger masked the hurt he felt from missing you.

The next morning he woke up without you in his arms, which just felt wrong for a Sunday morning.

He thought about calling you, he even stared at your contact for about half an hour before he had the balls to get up, grab his hoodie and drive to your place. He had no idea what to say to you.

When you opened your door at eleven a.m. that Sunday morning, he was the last person you were expecting.

“What do you want?” You words were cold and your face was blank. He broke your heart, which broke his.

“I fucking miss you.”

“You can’t do this, Harry,” you tell him, voice shaky as you put all your energy into keeping your guard up. “It’s not fair. You ended things. You didn’t want whatever the fuck our relationship was.”

“I don’t want that,” Harry says bluntly. “Fuck that. I want more than that. I want you to be mine.”

You’re taken aback at his words, you never thought that he’d ever find enough time in his busy, fast-paced, hectic life for you.

“You broke my heart.”

“I know, love, and I’m sorry,” Harry takes a step forward, reaching out to you. He knows the effect ‘baby’ has on you. “I was a fucking dumbass. I thought - I thought whatever feelings I had for you would disappear when you left, but they didn’t. You’re everywhere.”

“I’m not having a label-less relationship with you,” you state. “I want it to be official.”

Harry nods, stepping closer to you again. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

This was the best Sunday morning of them all.

[lottiebagleywritesobx]

Love Language

At the time they'd made it the language had felt like no one would ever be able to understand it.

They were only 9 and JJ had been granted permission to stay at her house, her parents used to be around a lot, although they weren't anymore, and they'd always welcomed her blonde best friend leading to his near constant presence at their home.

It was late for two kids, maybe 10 pm, and they'd been wrapped in blankets in her box sized room that felt so much bigger when they were young.

They always got each other in a way no one else understood for reasons way more complex than a secret language they would use to write each other messages, but at 9, all they needed to know was that the language was another thing that tied them together.

It was simple: to spell a word you combine the first letters of the other words.

So to write Hello  you would write Hungry Elephants Love Lollipops Okay

It had stuck a lot at first, they used it everyday and it drove Pope and John B insane, but as they got older it died out.

It was used a few times at 12 when they had an annoying teacher who made students read notes out if they were caught passing them, to everyone else it sounded like gibberish.

It was used once at 15, the world help spelled out when an older Kook boy wouldn't leave her alone and she knew he was reading her phone screen over her shoulder, not wanting to trigger him.

Now, at 17, she had laughed out loud when she'd unfolded the note tucked into her locker.

In JJ's scrawl that only she could read with ease.

 Ukraine

Rollercoaster

Penguin Ranch Eyelash Tractor Tangerine Yoghurt

You are pretty. She blushed a little, looking around for any sign of the familiar blonde boy but he was nowhere to be seen, she tucked the note into her bag, hating the way he made her heart race, before shoving the books she didn't need over the weekend into her locker and walking down the corridor and out of the front doors.

When she arrived at the twinkie her friends were already there "Took your time," John B smirks from his open window, occupying the front seat

"She was probably busy flirting with Mack," Sarah teases from the passenger side

"For the last time Sarah, he just needed tutoring in bio,"

"You are shit at bio," Sarah smirks even wider

"Better than you sweetheart," The girl grins, climbing into the back and diving out of Sarah's reach as she moves to try and flick her. Both girls laughing loudly

"I'll get the door then," Pope chides

"Thanks P, i can't get too close  or Sarah will attack me," She grins, Pope rolls his eyes but sends her a grin as he leans forwards to pull the door to the twinkie closed.

She moves through the seats to her usual space, she always sat next to JJ, no matter what. They could be drinking at the chateau, relaxing at the beach, adventuring on the boat. No matter what they were next to each other. It wasn't uncommon when one of them was feeling tired, or clingy, or touch starved for her to end up in his lap, his arms wrapped around her stomach and his chin on her shoulder.

She leans up pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, it wasn't uncommon in their friendship, often used as a greeting, a thanks or even just out of the blue, and so the other's don't think anything of it even though JJ feels himself melting into a puddle. What is a little different though is the way she grabs his hand giving it a tight squeeze before pulling her own away and settling down in her seat as John B starts up the van. He knows what it is. It's a silent thanks for the note, not wanting to say anything in front of their friends but it was a sign she got it and she was grateful for it.

He wraps his arm around her shoulder, his touch gentle but Pope gives him a knowing look, the touch is supposed to claim her. She either doesn't notice or  doesn't seem to mind though, instead leaning into his now open side as she chats happily with Kie.

**

It's monday morning and JJ is in first period history. He fucking hates history, yet, it had become his favourite subject simply because it was the only one all 6 pogues shared. He opens his school bag with sigh, placing the textbook on his desk and starting to fish around the bottom of the bag for a loose pen.

Pope turns around from the seat in front of him, placing a pen on his desk with a knowing smile. JJ drops his bag to the floor, opening the text book only for a note to fall out.

Her neat writing fills the page and the smile on his face is immediate.

Umbrella

Rocket

Happy Ant Neck Drop Surf Olive Mars Egg

JJ tries to ignore the feeling of a red hot blush creeping up his neck as he turns to look at the next desk along, she's already looking at him with a smirk shooting him a week before turning to face the front, god if JJ can't feel himself falling.

**

It continues for weeks.

Tucked into the wind screen wiper of her old shitty truck.

Taped to the sandwiches she would bring him to lunch.

On her pillow when she went to bed one night.

Stuffed into the pocket of the hoodie she borrowed.

Her school bag.

The bathroom mirror at the chateau.

They both started to home a large collection of notes. Her's placed neatly in a drawer in her bedroom. His tucked in a box under the floor board that lifts up in the room he claims as his at the chateau.

**

"What you writing?" John B questions as he steps onto the porch

"Just a note for y/n,"

"You guys have been passing a lot of secret notes recently," John B comments, JJ shrugs placing the pen down "It's sweet,"

"What d'ya mean by that?" JJ questions, John raises his eyebrows giving JJ a knowing look before having a realisation.

"You still haven't told her you're head over heels in love with her?"

"No," JJ admits, he was way past his days of fighting back when his friends accused him of being in love with her. "I don't know how to. You know me, I never say things right and I just- I really don't want to fuck this up. Only got one shot at it,"

"So write it," John B shrugs like it's obvious

"I can't,"

"You can,"

"What if she doesn't feel the same?"

"JJ, you're the most annoying person I know and she puts up with you all the time and has done since you were 2 . She feels the same,"

**

She's only wearing a bikini and a tshirt that belongs to JJ when she exits her house on Saturday morning. Her plans to meet at the Chateau go surfing with Kie already made, she grabs her board and at first she doesn't even notice it, attached to the cool box full of water and fruit she'd loaded up the night before is a note.

Ice

Art Magic

Igloo Note

London Orange Venus Elephant

Wine Ill Tiger Hungry

Yam One Under

It takes less than a minute for her to decipher the note, abandoning her surf board and the cooler in favour of sprinting to the Cheateau.

JJ is seemingly waiting for her when she arrives, he's pacing in front of the house, going still the second he sees her.

"Are you kidding?" She questions, he's stares, eyes wide not quite able to process why she looks so hopeful. "Because JJ, if this is some fucked up joke I will literally never speak to you again,"

"It's not a joke," He assures

"It's not?" She questions, it's het turn to still, having expected to arrive for him to laugh and ruffle her hair like he was her brother.

"No. I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you since we were 12 and you stole my cap and started wearing it everyday,"

"We were 14 and you snuck into my room because my parents were fighting and you read harry potter to me cause you knew my parents used to," She states

He nods, now it was all out there in the open neither of them quite knew what to do.

"For fucks sake kiss already!" Pope shouts, they turn seeing all the pogues watching them from the porch.

JJ looks at her, an unspoken question in his eyes. "Just promise me if this all goes tits up we will be friends, cause I can't loose you maybank,"

He holds his pinky out, smiling as she loops her with his and squeezes slightly. He pulls her into his chest with their pinkies. Lips crashing onto hers, spare holding her closer to him by the small of her back. Her empty hand moving to play with the blonde curls she's wanted to run her fingers through a thousand times. Their pinkies stay linked by their side, his thumb stroking at her hands lightly.

Yeah, she'd be keeping the note he left in there little love language.

[cuddlepilefics]

baby space chan please please please, maybe minho as a cg, including things like stress, pacifiers and bottle

Channie ish tiwed

 Fandom: Stray Kids

Little: Chan

Caregiver: Minho

 No one’s POV.:

Times had been tough on Stray Kids lately. Out of the blue, their management demanded them to produce a new album in half the time they usually needed. It shouldn’t be too hard on 3racha because Chan had a massive amount of unpublished songs on his laptop, yet he didn’t feel confident enough in them to have any of them published, at least not the way they were right now. The leader was always harsh on himself when it came to the music he was producing and only a small fraction actually made it on one of their albums. What was even more bothersome, was that their company building was under construction and it was hard to find a studio where it was quiet enough to record anything. Not being in the studio he was used to, was a big stressor for Chan. He had become attached to that room and felt the most motivated and focused there. Not being in his known environment was distracting the Aussie and slowed him down significantly. He ended up staying later every night and at some point, he didn’t even let Changbin and Jisung stay with him to help him because one, they were obviously exhausted though they tried not to show it too much and two, they distracted their hyung too. Usually they didn’t distract him but while already being unable to properly focus, any form of company had become a distraction for the oldest.

After impressive two hours of sleep at the dorm, Chan packed his things and got ready to go to the studio again. His members were still asleep but he couldn’t afford to rest too much, despite the headache he had developed from stress and exhaustion days prior. It wasn’t too bad, merely a nuisance that kept him from focusing but not enough to keep him from working. Just as he slipped on his shoes to head out, his phone buzzed with a message that had been sent to all JYP employees. The electrician had made a mistake, which left the entire company building without power. Reading this, Chan wanted to cry. How was he supposed to complete their album on time if he can’t even use the studio? Having to switch to a different one had already been hard enough but now? He’d have to work at the dorm. It would be tough because his members would all be home too. How was he supposed to focus and get something done here? He couldn’t even tell them to go and practice some dances because the dance rooms didn’t have power either and if they started dancing in their living room, Chan would have an emotional breakdown. Taking a few deep breaths, he took out his laptop and placed it on the dining table. He made his way to the kitchen to get himself a big cup of strong coffee. He’d really need that. The Aussie tried to make peace with the situation, since there was nothing he could do about it but still, he couldn’t help but feel even more stressed than before. He’d try to get as much done at the dining table before the first members woke up and when his roommates were up, he’d claim their shared bedroom as his new workplace and God forbid if anyone dared to disturb him.

Chan wasn’t usually an irritable person but with the sleep-deprivation and pressure put on him, he tended to snap at people quicker than anyone would expect. Especially, when it was one of his dongsaengs deliberately trying to keep him from working and telling him to go to bed. Couldn’t they see that their songs didn’t write themselves? Taking a huge gulp of his coffee, Chan burned his tongue and cursed under his breath. By the way his day was starting, he just wanted to go back to bed and pull the blanket over his head to hide from the world. He caught himself pouting at the screen in front of him and frowned that his little side was rising to the surface now out of all times. If he slipped, he’d get even less work done, so he really needed another sip of coffee, no matter how hot it was. His little self despised anything that tasted remotely bitter and considering how strong the Aussie had brewed his coffee this morning, bitter wasn’t even strong enough of a word to describe the taste. The bitterness on his tongue instantly brought his focus back and he continued to work somewhat focused for almost thirty minutes till Seungmin shuffled into the kitchen. The vocalist was a morning person and needing the least time to wake up and get out of bed, he often ended up making breakfast for his friends. With his headphones on, Chan hadn’t even heard him come in but as though he was able to feel his presence, he instantly got distracted. Looking up, he removed one of his headphones and grumbled: “The company building is out of power, so if you want, you can go back to bed.”

Seungmin had other plans though. Since they didn’t have to hurry to get to the company in time, they could have a bigger breakfast and he was awake anyway, so why not make pancakes for everyone. Chan wanted to rip out his hair as soon as the clanging of pots started behind him. His focus was gone but where could he go? He could hear Seungmin’s cooking in the living room too but all the bedrooms were still occupied. Putting his headphones fully back on, the leader tried to drown out the noise but like earlier, the presence itself was enough to distract him. He felt like crying and couldn’t tell whether the exhaustion was making him emotional or whether his little side was coming out, either way, coffee would help. Taking another gulp of the slowly cooling drink, he picked up his laptop and went to the bathroom. The Aussie closed the door behind him and sat down on the closed toilet lid with his laptop on his lap. It wasn’t the most comfortable position to work in but it was quiet and he was alone, which was exactly what he needed right now. Looking around deep in thought as he was searching for the right word that would fit the flow of their lyrics, his eyes landed on his rubber duck, that sat on the edge of the bathtub. He cursed himself for leaving his coffee on the dining table and quickly shoved the bath toy into a random drawer, not caring where it went as long as it was out of his sight.

Chan almost fell off the toilet in shock when the door suddenly opened. He didn’t know why he was so surprised because it had been only a matter of time till someone would have to use the bathroom. “Hyung?”, Hyunjin asked confused. The leader took off his headphones and sighed: “The company building is out of power, so I tried to find a quiet place here.” He closed his laptop and left, continuing his search for a hiding place where he could hopefully get some of his work done. “Wait, hyung, why don’t you use our room? Seungmin and I are up already and Minho-hyung’s sleeping. He’s a heavy sleeper, so I don’t think he’d wake up”, the dancer offered. It actually seemed like a good idea. Maybe the distracting feeling of someone’s presence wouldn’t be as strong of that someone was asleep because living with seven other people, it would be quite difficult to find an unoccupied spot.

The Aussie quietly snuck into the bedroom, glancing at Minho who was indeed still deeply asleep. He set up his laptop on Seungmin’s desk, grateful that the younger was such a tidy person. He was lucky, Minho’s presence wasn’t distracting at all, he just needed to make sure not to accidentally look at the sleeping dancer. Minho was Chan’s caregiver whenever the leader slipped into his headspace and seeing him lay there so peacefully, the little in him just wanted to go and get some cuddles from his daddy. It looked so, so cozy over there but as long as he didn’t look, he’d be able to resist. Too bad that the song he was working on wasn’t working out the way he had thought it would. Something just sounded off, not right at all, but he didn’t know what he’d have to fix to make it sound right. Minho, who was just waking up, got the scare of his life when a frustrated Chan punched the closet standing next to the desk. As soon as his heart slowed down a bit, he got out of bed and spun the chair his hyung was sitting in around. He made it just in time to keep the leader from throwing his laptop across the room, something he’d surely regret. What he was doing was risky because he didn’t know how mad the older was and why he was mad in the first place. “Hey, what’s got you so work up that you need to resort to violence”, the dancer asked sternly, trying to hide how nervous he was about interrupting Chan when he had just punched something. The older looked up at him with a pout and whined: “Channie ish tiwed!” Immediately afterwards, the first tear spilled over and within a few seconds, he was full on sobbing.

Minho was taken aback but quickly pulled the little out of his chair and guided him to his unmade bed, where they sat down together. “It’s okay, ducky. You’ve been working so hard, I’d be confused if you weren’t tired”, he hummed, resting his back against the wall and pulling Chan against his chest. The leader only whimpered in response and buried his face in his sweater paws. He rarely got this worked up, so Minho was unsure about the best way of calming him down. Reaching behind him, the dancer grabbed the cat plushie he always kept on his bed and handed it to the little, who instantly clutched it to his chest. The caregiver smiled softly when he watched the other calm down a bit as soon as he held the plushie, carefully he whispered: “Channie, can you tell me how old you are?” The Aussie looked at him with teary eyes, lip quivering as he remained silent. “Aww, is my little ducky too little to talk?”, Minho cooed, cupping the little’s damp cheek and brushing his thumb under the other’s eye to brush away the tears. Chan only whined and slipped the cord of his hoodie between his lips, chewing on it. “Channie, do you want to tell daddy what made you so frustrated?”, he tried quietly, quite certain that he wouldn’t get a reply but he wanted to give the other a chance to get it off his chest. The leader responded with whines and some blabbering around the cord in his mouth. Although he didn’t understand a word, Minho nodded along understandingly and when the little grew quiet he gasped: “Really, I’m sorry, baby. Don’t think about it too much yeah?” Chan nodded and cuddled back into his caregiver’s chest.

They sat for a while till the little had calmed down and completely forgotten about work. With some struggle, Minho picked him up and carried him to the living room, where everyone else was gathered already as the two had taken quite some time. “What’s going on?”, Felix frowned, getting up from the couch, so that the older could sit down with Chan in his lap. The leader hid his face against his shoulder, feeling shy, so Minho ran his hand up and down the little’s back and sighed: “He finally slipped after putting it off due to work for who knows how long. I think he’s in babyspace, so if you could get me his stuff from your room?” The younger nodded, quickly searching for the box his hyung kept his little gear in. He placed the box on the coffee table but took one item out already. Chan owned a light-blue pacifier, a color that was calm and soothing to look at. “Hey, little one, do you want your paci?”, he cooed, holding the comfort item out to the other. The leader hesitantly lifted his head from Minho’s shoulder and looked at Felix, opening his mouth. The freckled boy giggled and placed the paci between the little’s lips.

Chan whined again and nuzzled his face against his daddy’s neck. “Ah, I forgot to mention, he’s exhausted and I’m going to put him down for a nap”, the caregiver chuckled, turning his face to press a soft kiss on the little’s cheek. He was just about to get up, when Seungmin stopped him: “I don’t think he had breakfast yet and judging by those eyebags, he’s going to be out cold till after lunch.” – “Right, hm, could you make him a bottle? Just hot milk with some honey. I can’t really put him down when he’s this little, other wise I’d do it myself”, the dancer pleaded. The younger nodded, smiling: “Sure, you don’t have to do this all by yourself. We want to help our leader too, you know?” Jeongin took the bottle from the box and handed it to Seungmin, adding: “You just go ahead, either to his or to your room and I’ll take this box and follow you, so you two can get settled.” Minho nodded gratefully and carried Chan to his room. Jeongin and Changbin followed him and while Jeongin placed the box down on the bed, Changbin collected Chan’s laptop. Him and Jisung could try and continue their work, so their hyung wouldn’t have as much work left when he’d come out of his headspace again. “There, you can get all comfy, ducky”, Minho whispered, placing Chan down on his bed. Jeongin was already rummaging through the box of little gear, checking if there was anything he could want to have with him for a nap. He found a little bird plush with a rattle in it but other than that, the other things were would have to wait till the little was better rested.

Minho sat down with his back against the headboard and settled Chan against his chest, remembering that he still had to feed him his bottle before he could take a nap. The little whined a bit, but was easily distracted by his rattle. The maknae shook it a few times before handing it to the Aussie who looked at it with wondering eyes. Jeongin then closed the blinds, leaving only small slits at the bottom to allow enough light in to see. Then he patted the little’s head and told him to have sweet dreams before leaving the two alone. Seungmin came in quietly, handing Minho the bottle and worrying: “Hyung, he already had coffee this morning and with how bad his insomnia gets, I’m not sure if he really can sleep right now.” – “Hm, usually his insomnia is much better when he’s little because he has less things on his mind and I don’t know if coffee is even affecting him anymore, considering his body must be used to it at this point. At least that’s what I hope because I have no idea what’s going to happen if he stays awake much longer”, the dancer hummed, raking his fingers through Chan’s hair. Seungmin nodded and left them alone, knowing the leader was shy about using his bottle when people were looking. Minho plucked the paci out of the little’s mouth, earning a disapproving whine, and quickly replacing it with the bottle after checking whether it had drinking temperature. The Aussie relaxed as he suckled his warm, sweet milk and played with the small rattle in his hands. His eyes started to droop shut towards the end but by the time the bottle was empty, he was awake again, whimpering as he just wanted to sleep off the headache that had been bugging him for a few days already. Minho placed a kiss on his forehead before cradling his head against his chest, sighing: “Aww ducky, you’re okay. Should daddy try to sing you to sleep?” The little nodded with a sad pout and closed his eyes, only focusing on his daddy’s voice and the fingers messing with his hair. Watching Chan’s breathing even out, the dancer mumbled sadly: “Get some rest, little one.”

[sherlock-one-shots]

What are You Doing? (Sherlock X Reader)

(Gif is not mine. Originally posted by this user)

Requested by anonymous: I have another idea for you! There is no hurry with this one if you have other ideas! Reader is a forensic analyst that works with Molly in the morgue at St. Bart's. She finds Sherlock messing with her microscope one day. Chaos breaks out. (Reader and Sherlock aren't together but there is a tension there. Reader is also very protective of her microscope and equipment) Please and thank you!

I added some stuff to this prompt. If it’s not exactly what you wanted then I’ll fix it. Warnings: Mentions a parent’s death (I tried to get around it, but I couldn’t see how...sorry)

Another case-finished! You sat back in your seat happily, grinning from ear to ear as you closed the file that’s been open on your desk for about a week now. The Detective Inspector would be happy to hear that the forensic evidence concluded his hypothesis and that they could go ahead and make an arrest. “Good day?” Molly asked, taking the file for you. You and Doctor Hooper worked closely together and had become great friends over the past few years. “An amazing day.” You stood, moving to grab your hoodie from the coat rack, except it wasn’t there. “Have you seen my hoodie?” You asked Molly. Her coat was there still so you assumed she might have seen yours somewhere. “Didn’t you put it in your locker?” She wondered. You sighed. “Yes, I did.” You really didn’t want to walk all the way to your locker, but you guessed it couldn’t be helped. You walked as quickly as possible, wanting to hurry up and get home. It was late-much later than usual when you left work, and you were ready to eat a quick dinner and go to bed. You unlocked your locker, pulled your hoodie out, and shut it again, trying to hurry. You raced back down the hallway, ready to close the lab for the night, but as you were reaching in to shut off the lights, a figure caught your eye. “Excuse me?” You said politely. The light in the back was off so you couldn’t make out who it was. “I’m just closing up the lab so I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” You said hesitantly. You had no idea who they were and what they were there for. “This will only take a moment.” You couldn’t recognize their silhouette but you could recognize the voice. You had heard them from Molly’s side of the lab all the time. Sherlock Holmes. “I’m afraid I don’t have a second.” “Leave, then. I know how to close a lab.” “I’m not going to leave.” You answered, turning the light back on and walking further into the lab, letting the door shut behind you. Sherlock looked up from whatever he was working on, narrowing his eyes at you. “Why not? Clearly you’re ready to go home.” You scoffed. “I’m not going to just leave you here in the lab. That would be unprofessional.” He sighed, rolling his eyes. “Fine. Stay, then, just be quiet.” “You can’t tell me what to do.” His hands hit the table. Obviously he was annoyed as he leaned on the counter, closer to you. “Listen,” He began venomously. “I am in the middle of trying to solve one of the most confusing cases Scotland Yard has encountered. This,” he gestured to the work that he ad already done on the counter. “is the key to solving it. If you talk and distract me-if I lose focus for a single second-it could jeopardize the outcome.” “You still can’t tell me what to do.” You shrugged. He closed his eyes, sighed, and sat back down on the stool, going back to work. “Fine. I’ll just tell them who to blame.” He muttered. “That is so childish.” You commented. “Shut up.” You dug through your purse, finding the book you stashed in there, cracking it open to the right page and passing the time. You occasionally looked up at him, making sure he wasn’t doing anything stupid. Molly seemed to trust him, she let him work here a lot, even left the lab wide open for him to use at all times of the night sometimes, but you weren’t sure about it. You were sure that he was handsome. You had to give him that, at least. He wasn’t heard on the eyes. At all. Beautiful curly brunette locks draping over his forehead, icy eyes that both terrorized and memorized you, lips with a perfect cupid’s bow that you would kill for, a voice that made you melt right where you were- Still, he wasn’t really allowed in here and needed to leave. You didn’t need to think of him as handsome, you needed to think of him as a pest. But you just couldn’t help it. “You’re staring.” He mumbled, taking a slide and placing a piece of evidence on it. “Get back to work. I’m ready to leave.” You told him, feeling your cheeks go red with embarrassment. “You can leave anytime you’d like. I won’t stop you.” “Oh, but you are.” He didn’t answer and you tore your eyes away from him, going back to the book. It was a soppy romance novel an aunt had given you for Christmas. She thought you might like it, and you almost gave it away. You decided, however, it would be a good laugh, or something to just pass the time. It wasn’t poisonous, so you kept it in your purse and got it out in situation’s like this. You weren’t able to focus on it anymore, though, so you looked up from it. “What are you doing?” You asked loudly, startling the detective. He looked up from the microscope. “A little quieter, please.” “What are you doing?” You repeated, ignoring him. “Working, what does it looked like?” He looked back at the microscope. “Use Molly’s.” You demanded. He looked up at you again, confused and almost angry. “What?” “Use Molly’s. You can’t just use my microscope without asking.” You shook your head. You really, really didn’t want him anywhere near your equipment-if something broke, you would have ot pay to replace it-but you definitely didn’t want him near the microscope. “What’s wrong with using it? You’re not using it and it works perfectly.” “And I want it to keep working perfectly.” “I won’t break it!” “How do you know?” He didn’t even know how to formulate a response. “I won’t even touch it, not unless I have to.” He assured you, hands in the air. “You can touch Molly’s all you want to. Use hers.” “What’s so special about yours?” “Nothing.” The both of you were getting louder and louder as the conversation went on. You were sure someone in the morgue next door would hear you, but you didn’t care in the moment. You just wanted him away from the microscope. “Then why can’t I use it if it means nothing to you?” You stayed silent. It did mean something to you. It meant a great deal to you.  You just didn’t want him to know that. The king of apathy would never understand. His hands, which had been in the air the whole time, began to fall slowly to his sides. “Unless it does mean something to you.” He said quietly. He walked around the counter, leaving his work behind, all of his focus on you. “Your shirt-it’s not yours.” He nodded to the hoodie. “It’s way too big for you and in the year advertised you would have only been a child.” “It’s my fathers.” You confirmed. “He was a student in college when I was a kid. I always looked up to him.” “A student of science, perhaps?” He wondered. You nodded. “He got the microscope for you.” “It was the last thing he bought me.” You nodded. “The hospital allowed me to use my own here so he got one for me with the last bit of money he had.” You pressed your lips together, trying to keep it together. You hadn’t talked about it at all until now. No one asked about where you got it, but you knew and that’s all that mattered, really.  Molly knew, that was one of the first things you two bonded over, the loss of your fathers, but she was the only one. But Sherlock knew now and you wondered if you made a mistake by telling him. “It still upsets you.” He observed. You didn’t have to nod or anything, he already knew. It was almost robotic, the way his arms spread out. You looked at him, brow raised. “What are you doing?” You wondered. “I just-” he put his arms back to his sides and cleared his throat. “-I thought that’s what you were supposed to do when you make someone upset. That’s what John and Mary told me anyway. Hugging is supposed to make someone feel better. I won’t try that again.” he almost whispered the last part, almost like it was a mental note and not something you were supposed to hear. “No, no, it is. It’s fine, I just didn’t expect it from you. Thank you.” You didn’t know why you were thanking him, it just felt right. He seemed to understand, though, and nodded with a semi-forced smile, one that, you guessed, was supposed to make you feel better. “Well, go ahead and finish your case, I’m starving.” He nodded and spun around, going back to the microscope. He took the slide he was working with and went to Molly’s microscope instead, obeying your wishes. You felt a little bad that he had to move, but your microscope was unharmed. He was finished a few minutes later, and cleaned up his mess as you shut off all of the lights. You both walked to the doors side by side in complete yet uncomfortable silence. Once you reached the doors, however, you could barely see out of them. The rain was pouring mercilessly, no doubt making it much colder and a much more miserable experience flagging down a cab. “Wait here.” Sherlock told you, walking outside, covering his head with his coat. Once he had taken a few steps away from the hospital you couldn’t see him. You waited for a few seconds, listening to the thunder and rain. The door swung open and Sherlock entered, soaked, holding out part of his coat. “Come on. You can ride with me.” You crouched as much as you could, walking outside with Sherlock’s coat covering your heads. He had successfully found a cab willing to drive in the crazy rain and had gotten him to wait while he got you. You crawled in first, barely wet and told the cab driver the address just as Sherlock closed the door. You closed your eyes as he drove, knowing that if you were to look out of the windshield and see the chaos the cabbie was maneuvering through in this weather you wouldn’t make it home. You would have a heart attach and they would have to take you back to the hospital. The rain let up halfway through town and was now only a light drizzle. “Still hungry?” Sherlock asked. You opened your eyes to find him looking at you, waiting for your answer. You nodded before your stomach could answer for you, and Sherlock leaned forward, speaking to the cabbie. “Stop here for just a second, please.” The cab slowed to a stop, parked behind another car as Sherlock got out. You stayed, not wanting to get out again, waiting, once again, for Sherlock to return, knowing that the rate was going up more and more as long as the meter was running. And it was running. The rate was climbing higher and higher. He came back a few minutes later, two bags in hand. He handed one to you. “This is yours. I hope you like fish and chips.” You could smell and now and your mouth began to water. “Thank you.” You wanted to eat it right there, but you didn’t want to eat in the cab. Instead, you turned to Sherlock as the cab started going again. “Why are you doing this?” “Doing what?” “Being so nice to me.” You clarified. “First, you go out in the pouring rain and flag down a cab for the both of us, then you buy fish and chips for me.” You reached into your purse. “How much was that, by the way. I should have enough to pay you back.” “It was free.” he told you. You looked up at him. “No, seriously, I want to.” “No, seriously, (Y/N), it was free. The man who owns the shop owes me.” “Oh.” You felt like an idiot now. You put your purse away. “Well, still, why?” “Because I upset you and I want to make it up to you. You’ve been a great friend to me in the past.” The cab slowed to a stop once again and you recognized the small building of flats you resided in. You nodded, getting your purse out again. A hand stopped you just as you were reaching for your money, ready to pay the driver. “I’ve got it.” Sherlock assured you. You looked at the rate and saw how much it was already. “Come inside for a little bit, then. Wait until the rain passes, eat your dinner, and get home for less money. With my ride and yours combined, it won’t be cheap.” “I know that. It’s fine, I can afford it.” “Well, come inside anyway and tell me about the case, then. I want to know all about it.” That caught his attention and he followed you out of the cab, letting you pay (you wouldn’t let him back in the lab if he didn’t let you) and you stayed up late listening to stories about several of his cases. I hope this is alright! Requests are OPEN!