and i like that you know what he is wearing at all times

Okay so first of all I have to say sorry for being so absent for the past few months. But I want to thank you all for your support and love and care and understanding during this period it has really helped me and I am so grateful for all of you! 

second: this fic is based on a prompt I recieved ages ago from @gellbellshead​-

“So saw your post that you have some time for writing and couldn’t help myself from sending you this one. Person A and Person B are camp counselors and Person A gets all flustered because Person B is really good with kids and it’s adorable.” 

which kind of inspired 30 pages worth of content haha ps. sorry I took forever to get this done love!

third: THANKYOU TO @rileybabe​ for this STUNNING aesthetic I mean I can’t even with her talent! I would also like to dedicate this fic to her and @ms-maj​ for being so kind and lovely and always sending me such cute messages and supporting me even when I was MIA. 

Again thanks everyone for the love I hope you enjoy!

warning: light smut

as this is long af, here is the AO3 link-


“Welcome to Camp Sweetwater”

Betty let out a defeated sigh as she read the faded words scripted in yellow paint across a crooked wooden sign.  This was not how she wanted to spend her summer.

“Really Elizabeth stop acting like such a child, “ her mother scolded from the driver’s seat, shutting off the car’s engine and opening the door. Betty groaned, letting her head thump back against the seat.  

All she asked for was a carefree summer; one where she was free of her “perfect” girl next door persona and could just be a teenager. But of course that was not acceptable to Alice Cooper. Betty had been furious when her mother had excitedly relayed her acceptance as a camp counsellor, shaking the neatly opened letter in her face. It wasn’t that she didn’t like kids or the outdoors, no it was the principle of having her time stripped of her against her will. But her objections were no match for Alice’s lectures on the importance of broadening her skill set, and the need to fill her college applications with extra curricula’s- as if she didn’t have enough. So her bags had been packed, and here she was.

Deciding there was no point in further delaying the inevitable and beginning to become uncomfortable inside the stuffy vehicle, Betty opened her own door and stepped out into the summer heat.

She had to admit the location was beautiful, with lush greenery all around and the sounds of the river trickling through the air. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

Rounding the vehicle, Alice placed Betty’s duffle bag on the dusty ground beside her and grabbed her reluctant daughter’s shoulders.

“It’s only seven weeks, who knows it might surprise you,” her mother placated softly, offering a warm smile.

Internally Betty scoffed, only seven weeks, but she knew her mother truly just wanted what was best for her even if she had an overbearing and odd way of actuating that. So instead she returned the words with a soft smile of her own and pulled her mother into a hug.

“I’ll call you when I can, have a safe drive home.”

And with that she was gone.

Taking a deep breath and pushing her hesitancies and irritations aside, the blonde tightened her pony tail before bending down to pick up her duffle bag, slinging it over her shoulder. Her sneakers hit the ground with purpose as she crossed through the open gateway, her green eyes scanning across rows of log cabins with brightly painted accents and dirt pathways, all the way to the tree line that led into the forest.

“Betty Cooper?”

Betty turned her head from the view, only to be completely taken aback by the new one. A boy about her age was approaching her with lazy steps that held a subtle air of arrogance. He was tall and lean; the plaid button up he was wearing, the sleeves rolled up on his forearms made sure she was very aware of that fact.  Rogue strands of his ebony hair fell over his impossibly blue eyes tantalisingly while the rest was tucked beneath a beanie that she was too stunned to question the use of in this weather. And god his jawline looked sharp enough to cut glass.

It wasn’t until his dark brows furrowed and his mouth twitched into an amused smile that Betty realised she had been straight out ogling him and if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, she had totally failed to respond to his question. Trying to ignore the flush that was quickly rising to her cheeks, Betty summoned the social skills she had acquired over years of Cooper indoctrination and flashed him her best girl next door smile.

“That’s me! Sorry I was a little distracted by the view,” the blonde recovered in an upbeat tone, internally commending herself on constructing an excuse that wasn’t entirely a lie.

The boy chuckled shaking her politely extended hand.

“Yeah it’s some view,” he replied, a cheeky smirk gracing his lips, making it obvious they both knew she wasn’t talking about the geographical scenery. Betty felt her cheeks flame even more and cast her eyes downward shyly.

“Jughead Jones, welcome to Camp Sweetwater.”

Betty was extremely grateful that he didn’t feel the need to loiter on her embarrassment and found the courage to meet his eyes again. God did he have nice eyes.

“Thanks, I’m assuming this isn’t your first time?”

“You’d be right. I’ve been friends with Fred’s son since birth really, so of course every summer I’d come with them here and then when we got old enough it was kind of a natural progression into camp counsellors,” Jughead informed her, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So you’re the welcoming committee?” She half joked, feeling her stomach flutter at the good natured smile he offered her.

“Something like that.”

She quirked a brow, the tone of his voice indicating he knew something she didn’t.

“Well I’m your welcoming committee,” his smirk reappeared and Betty bit her lip at the sight.

“Lucky me,” she returned softly, her eyes widening as the confession slipped out. Letting out a nervous chuckle she shuffled her converse through the dirt, attempting to play it off as friendly jest.

Jughead raised an eyebrow- his eyes seeming to twinkle with something unknown- but didn’t comment.

“Come on, I’ll show you ‘round.”

Maybe this summer wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Keep reading

Adore You

Request: Can you do a smutty/fluffy bucky x reader based off of the song Adore you by Miley Cyrus? Thanks so much!!
Word Count: 2153 (with lyrics)
Warnings: language, smut (female receiving), metal arm kink
A/N: so this one’s different than the last two song fics i wrote cause i thought that u guys might be tired of me using 99% of the lyrics as dialogue and im p sure this is the “right” way.

Oh, hey, oh
Baby, baby, yeah, are you listening?
Wondering where you’ve been all my life
I just started living
Oh, baby, are you listening?

It was movie night in the Avengers tower, which meant that everyone would gather together in the common, cuddle up with loads of blankets and junk food and watch a movie that someone had picked out. Tonight it was Wanda’s turn and she chose a romantic comedy much to boys’ displeasure but when she said that there was already a lot of action and sadness in their lives; no one argued with her.

Bucky had taken his usual place on the loveseat. He had brought a fluffy blanket knowing somewhere down the line you’d get cold.

“Let’s get started!” You said as you clapped your hands when you entered the room. Bucky watched you walk towards him with a smile adorning his face. He loved it when you chose to wear his clothing like you did tonight, opting to wear his sweatshirt and boxers.

“C’mon,” Bucky mumbled as he lifted the blanket so you could sneak under it.

“Thanks sarge.” Bucky slung his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, allowing you to rest your head on his chest.

“Baby, are you listening?” He asked, squeezing your shoulder a little to get your attention.

“Of course.”

“Then what did I say?” He raised an eyebrow.

“That you were wondering where I’ve been all your life,” you giggled. He couldn’t even say that you were wrong because he kept wondering that every day when he was with you.

Keep reading

Taking Tom to the Spa:

- Tom giving you a spa voucher package for your birthday
- “I thought maybe you could take one of your friends darling”
-Tom’s face clearly saying ‘please take me though’
-“Tommy did you want to come with me?”
-“Oh you don’t have to do that love, take one of your friends, you don’t want your boyfriend at the spa with you.”
- “Last chance Tomm-.”
- “YES please”
- Getting ready to go and Tom not being sure what sort of thing to wear to a spa
- “Is this shirt okay? Will they give me a shirt to wear? Shall I just not wear a shirt?”
- “You can wear whatever, they’ll give you a robe when we get there”
- “Oo with my initials on it and everything?!”
- “No Tom”
- Driving there and Tom looking at his nails feeling insecure about them being a little dirty
- “I think maybe I should have cleaned my nails before we left, what do you reckon?”
- “You have acted in front of award winning celebrities Thomas why are you getting nervous about going to a spa?”
- “I’m just excited to get pampered with you.”
- Him saying PAMPERED UGH
- Getting to the spa and him asking the receptionist loads of questions
- “So apparently we get robes? Is that true?”
- “It’s my first time at a spa, is there like an initiation or something?”
- “Tom it’s not a cult.”
- “Just checking love!”
- Being sent to seperate locker rooms and Tom being really disappointed
- “I thought you might need my help changing though darling”
- “I’m sure I’ll manage on my own Thomas”
- Starting in the mud bath and Tom being confused about why mud is involved
- “Y/N? Y/N?! I thought spa’s were to get clean not dirty???”
- Taking your robe off to get into the mud bath and Tom rushing to cover you up because he’s worried the spa attendants are looking so he just pulls you into a bear hug and covers your butt with his hands
- “Oh. Ha, oops.”
- Rolling your eyes at his dumbass as you step into the bath and him just confidently stripping off and joining you
- Closing your eyes to relax and feeling him start to graze his fingers over your bare thigh
- Turning to stare at him and him just opening one eye to look at you and grinning like a CHEEKY BASTARD
- “Tom we can be naked in here but we cannot fool around in here”
- “Where there is a naked Thomas, fooling shall be had”
- “Are you kidding me?”
- Getting a couples massage together and you’re already faced down on the table and as he’s stripping to lay down he keeps getting distracted by the curve of your body, the dimples in your back and the way your hair is tied on top of your head, he’s always loved it that way
- You fall asleep and as his massage is finishing up he asks the masseuses to leave the room while he secretly takes over your massage
- Starting at your shoulders he slides his rough hands down your arms, achingly slow, reaching to the spot just above the small of your back, sliding his hands one by one back up your spine
- He kisses your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses from one to the other
- You’re not even surprised because you’d recognise his facial hair anywhere, your skin knows it’s touch so well
- Flipping over, you reach up, holding his gaze so perfectly, pulling his chin in with your finger, kissing him hastily, with heat
- “When did you get so good with your hands Tommy?”
- “You’ve always given me plenty of chance to practice sweets.”
- Getting a pedicure while he gets a facial and he’s got he’s earphones in bopping his stupid cute little head to music while the beautician is laughing at him
- Snap chatting it and sending it to him and he looks at it and just gives you the finger
- “If you sent that to Harrison we’re breaking up!”
- “What are you even listening to?”
- “Madonna! She has some right old bops!”
- Tom feeling so pretty after his facial
- “Y/N! Feel my face it’s so smooth”
- “I’m not feeling your face Tom”
- Tom taking your hand and just plopping it on his cheek
- “Nice isn’t it?!
- “Yes Tommy.”
- Getting eyelash extensions put in and Tom just being concerned af
- “Is that safe for your eyes darling? It looks like it hurts, I didn’t pay for this for you to lose your eyesight!”
- “It’s fine Tom, the lady knows what she’s doing.”
- Tom getting his hair washed and blown out because he likes to do the moST
- Tom asking the hair dresser if she can make sure his curls look extra nice because he knows you love it when his hair is curly
- “What do you think my love?”
- “You know exactly what I think Tommy. My handsome man.”
- Him throwing the ‘oh stop it you’ hand at you.
- Putting your hand on the back of his neck and playing with the curl at the back, kissing his jaw and making him sigh
- “My little curly locks”
- Walking out and Tom checking with the receptionist, “so we definitely don’t get to keep the robes?”
- “TOM”
- “Just making SURE, they’re really sofffttt”
- Jks on him because he’s a soft bby boy
- Driving home and he has his hand in yours, drawing figure eights in your palm
- “So, did the love of my life enjoy her trip to the spa?”
- “Not as much as you did I think Tommy.” -
I just got thinking bout how I needed to get my lip waxed and how I’d fucking love to go to the spa with Tom and see him get treated the way he deserves sooooo 🤷🏻‍♀️ If y'all have any requests, hmu xx

anonymous asked:

Hello! It's Detour anon :) So I'm on the 3rd day of my field work and sharing my room with a colleague. I have pretty bad wheezing and my roommate stares at me all the time and is always trying to help me out but I try to let her know that I'm ok. That sort of reminded me of the whole cancer arc and how M and S would have shared a room back then. I know its been done numerous times but I would love your spin on it from either pov or both (this is what happens when you spoil someone rotten)

Tada! It’s done! Thank you sooo much, Detour anon for this prompt. I also used another one I still had in my inbox from who knows when: 19. “I’m fine.” “You don’t look fine.” “Well then stop fucking looking.” So here you go. Cancer arc fic. 

When the receptionist tells Mulder that yes, she has two rooms, but no, they’re not adjoined, and no, they’re not on the same floor, he doesn’t think, he just reacts.

“We’ll take one room, please.” He finds himself saying, nervously looking over his shoulder, checking if Scully is there, catching him. She is not. She is still over in the lobby sitting on the dingy couch, her legs outstretched, her head leaning heavily against the wall. Her eyes are closed, her mouth slightly open; it wouldn’t surprise him if she’s fallen asleep. Mulder hates this. Hates dragging her places, like this one, seeing her do autopsies, working her ass off like this. She keeps telling him that she’s fine of course, and while he believed her at first, wanted so badly to believe, he sees it’s a lie. No amount of make-up can cover up her pale complexion. The exhaustion that follows her around, palpable in every move she makes.

“Here you go, Sir.” The receptionist hands him the room key, jolting him back to his deception. The motel is one of the better ones; he refuses to stay in yet another hellhole just because the FBI is cheap. He’ll pay for the room himself if he has to, because Scully deserves more than a flee-ridden, way too soft mattress and dirty bathrooms. He approaches her slowly, the key dangling from his hand, jingling gently. She does not wake.

“Hey.” His fingers brush her cheek, cool against his touch, and she startles awake.

“’m sorry.” She mumbles stretching, but not getting up just yet. “Did you get the rooms?”

“Room,” he says swallowing his guilt and handing the key over to her, “They only had one room left.” If Scully is on to him, she doesn’t comment on it. She merely nods at him, accepts this fate like any other. She gets up with difficulty, wincing once she’s on her feet. Mulder wants to sweep her up and carry her. Not that she would ever let him, sick or healthy. He lets her lead the way and stays a few steps behind her, giving her space. She tries her best not to let him know, to let him see, in how much pain she is. As much as he loathes it, as much as he wants to tell her to lay it all on him and let him in, the only decent thing he can do is respect her wishes, ignore her pain and his own, and pretend not to see.

“It’s a nice room, at least.” Scully sounds surprised when she enters and she is right; the room is spacious, bright and smells clean.

“Only the best for my partner.”

“Yeah right.” But she chuckles when she says it. Mulder puts down their bags on the queen-size bed and tests the firmness of the mattress. Seems all right, he decides, and hopes that Scully will find some rest here. Right now she looks dead on her feet. As if sensing his thoughts, she turns to him.

“Can I use the bathroom first?” Mulder nods and watches her disappear into the small room, closing the door quietly behind her. Unable to move, he sits there on the bed and listens to the intimate sounds of her nightly routine. There is comfort in these noises he’s heard a thousand times before. It’s as if nothing has changed, as if everything is as it should be. When in reality nothing is. One day, maybe soon, this will be gone. This is not the first time they’re sharing a room, but what if it’s the last? There will come a day when Scully won’t be with him. Not in the same room, not in the same hotel. She’ll be home withering away; barely able to breathe, to hang on to life. Then, one day, she’ll be gone. He swallows hard, tasting tears, tasting guilt. One day is not today. Tonight he’ll keep an eye on her, pray silently to a deity he’s never believed in. He’ll do anything to keep her here, to breathe life back into her until he finds a cure. And he will find one. There is no other way.

When Scully returns a few moments later, she is barefoot and wearing green satin pajamas. Green, the color of hope. She looks cute, but Mulder bites his tongue, not sure she’d appreciate it.

“I can sleep on the floor if you want.” Mulder offers when he sees her glance at the bed. Singular. They might have shared rooms before, but not the bed. He doesn’t plan on sleeping much anyway. All he wants is to be around her.  

“No. No, it’s fine. I was just wondering if you have… a side you prefer.”

“You choose. I usually sleep on a couch, remember?” Scully gets in into the bed and the mattress barely moves. He watches her for a moment like someone might watch a child.

“Stop staring, Mulder.” Scully tells him, her eyes closing already. She’ll be asleep in no time, he realizes. He’s glad.

“I wasn’t staring. I just – is the bed comfortable enough? Do you need another pillow? Another blanket?” One of her eyes pops open, shimmers in an angry blue.

“Mulder, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure because I can-”

“Can you just shut up? I’m fine.” Both eyes are open now as she puts emphasis on the fine. This time he can’t stop himself, huffs, keeps going as his mouth opens and the words just tumble out.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Well then stop fucking looking.” The words feel like a slap against his cheek, sting feverishly, and he bites his lip, nods. He’s gone too far. Maybe he should just tell her that there is another room available after all. Not even on the same floor, Scully, you can get as far away from me as you want. Instead, Mulder grabs his pillow and sits down in the small armchair across the bed.

“Mulder, I’m sorry. Please come to bed. I’m just really tired. I didn’t mean it.” He turns to her. Her eyes seem huge on her sunken, pale face. She might be a lot of things, fine is not one of them. If she were, he would not have needed to lie, to take just one room. The thought of not being with her, of making sure that she sleeps peacefully, doesn’t miss one breath, is unbearable. But she doesn’t want him here, worrying, caring about her.

“You’re not fine.”

“I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Can you just admit it, Scully? Just this once?”

“Mulder, I feel fine,” she sits up to be able to look at him, to make him see it if he can’t believe her words, “Now please come to bed so I can sleep.”

“Oh Scully,” he says, carrying the pillow back to bed, treading softly, “you just want to sleep with me.”

“Hm.” Half asleep already, eyes closed, but a small smile playing around her mouth. Mulder watches her a moment, lets himself enjoy the sight, before he rummages through his own bag to get changed in the bathroom.

He expects Scully to be fast asleep when he returns. He sits down at the edge of the bed carefully, scared to wake her up again. She doesn’t stir and he reaches to switch off the light before he too lies down, facing her. He keeps his eyes on her, not ready to let sleep claim him just yet.

“Mulder?” Her voice is soft, an unsteady sigh, and at first he is not even sure he is just imagining it. “I’m not fine.” She admits finally, a sob breaking free. For the second time this day, Mulder doesn’t think. He moves closer, takes her into his arms and holds her tightly against him.

“What do you need?” He whispers into her hair, kissing her there.

“Can you just hold me for a while?”

“Of course, Scully,” he presses another kiss against her forehead, where the intruder sits and waits his turn, “I’ll hold you for as long as you let me.” They fall asleep intertwined, no beginning, no end.

Screwed || Bucky Barnes || Pt. 2

Part One

Relationship: AU!Bucky Barnes x reader (Modern AU)

Summary: Bucky Barnes had never taken a liking in you, no matter how hard you tried he always seemed to loathe you. That is until you get a little drunk and carefree leading to becoming much closer to Bucky than you ever imagined. The question is, how screwed are you?

Warnings: swearing, mentions of like kissing, a bit of angst; that’s all

Word Count: 2327 words 

A/N: Once again I just wanna thank everyone that’s responded so positively to this new series its made me incredibly happy!! xx

All you wanted to do was wipe that stupid smirk off his face, you couldn’t stand just how cocky he was being, “oh c'mon, it was a great night,” he finally said, getting bored of your glare.

You wanted to say something, to tell him you didn’t remember it or that you hated it, but as soon as you opened your mouth, no words came out, “that’s what I thought,” he said, the smirk reappearing as you stomped your foot and let out a huff like an angry child.

Keep reading

Touch Me There

Characters: Tom Holland - Y/N

Notes: Now this is gonna be a somewhat different type of imagine; an interactive one. There are two songs I want you guys to listen to when indicated- the first one is up to you but I strongly recommend listening to the second one so the experience feels more whole. I also recommend using headphones and even boosting up your bass settings lol Also! The second song might be repeated twice, but that’s up to you. If you follow me on Twitter, you’ll know which one I’m talking about. I hope you guys enjoy!


You and your friends laugh after yet another guy gets rejected when he asks to dance with one of you. It’s the type of night where you’re here to drink and dance and just enjoy each other’s company.

The music is loud, loud enough that you can feel every beat in your chest. It’s dark except for the constant flashing of lights in different colors. Everyone is singing along and jumping, dancing together. The drinks keep flowing but you take your time downing them. You’d rather enjoy this night with a clear head.

Someone taps your shoulder and you roll your eyes when you see that it’s another stranger asking for your attention. You can’t hear what he’s mouthing but his hand signals, pointing to you and then to him, speak loudly enough. You shake your head and shout, “No, thank you! I’m with friends!”

He nods and gives you a thumbs up before he moves on. You smile and appreciate the fact that there’s at least one guy here who respects a woman’s choice.

A new song begins to play and you literally scream when you realize it’s one of your favorites. ‘Hit This Hard’ by Post Malone begins to pump through the walls and your body begins to move with the beat. (Listen now.) Your hands are up in the air and you shout the lyrics along with everyone else. You laugh, enjoying every moment.  

“You need another drink?” One of your friends shouts into your ear.

You nod, still dancing, and hand her your empty glass. You watch her as she pushes past the throng of people just to make sure she reaches the bar safely.

And then your eyes meet his.

You stop dancing, his gaze making your whole world stop. You get the feeling that you’ve seen him somewhere before but you can’t remember from where. He’s leaning against the bar, his elbow perched on top of it. He’s holding a glass of his own with just his fingertips. You glance back at his face and even with the distance, you see him smile. It wasn’t a smirk, but a smile. An acknowledgement.

You look away immediately, feeling completely nervous all of a sudden. Was he watching you? For how long?  You look back in the direction where he was standing but he’s disappeared. You pout, surprised at yourself for the pang of disappointment that you feel in your chest.


Tom’s POV:

Music and drinks.

That’s really the only reason I even agreed to come down with my brothers to this club. It’s been one hell of a month- no, actually, it’s been one hell of a year. I wasn’t about to deny a chance to hang out with my brothers before I have to leave again.

Music and drinks. That’s what I came here for.

But then her smile catches my eye. I gaze as she laughs with her friends. As she sips her drink. As she rejects a guy, whom I’m sure just asked her to dance. The poor bastard.

I keep watching her, completely unaware that I probably look like a creep right now. A  new song starts to blast through the speakers and the way her face lights up has me loving the song already.

She begins to dance, slow and sensual to match the rhythm of the song. Her hips sway back and forth, her hands up in the air. She’s singing along with her eyes closed and I’m in a trance, one I don’t ever want to stop.

It’s not even about the way she looks or what she’s wearing; it’s the fact that she’s here to enjoy herself with music and friends. She could be dancing on any guy right now but she refuses to. It makes me wonder if she’d refused me if I even dared to ask.

I feel Harry or Sam nudge my shoulder but I just wave them off. One of the girls who was dancing with her starts to make her way to the bar and I quickly try to think of what to do. Should I ask her friend who she is? Or should I send her friend back with a message?

I don’t even get the chance to decide when her eyes lock with mine. The hairs behind my neck stand on end. I take a deep breath to try to maintain my cool while my mind goes into overdrive.

Should I wave? What if she rejects me like she did to that old bloke?

I try to smile but I can’t feel any part of my body. She smiles back, briefly, before she looks down at her feet.

Shit. Did I fuck up?

I stand up and start to take a step in her direction when someone grabs my arm.

“They’re asking for you up in the booth!” Harry screams into my ear. “The owner of this place!”

I curse the owner for ruining this perfect chance. I glance over at her, just to have another look in her eyes but… she’s gone.


Your POV:

Your friends drag you across the crowd of people until you stand together at the edge of the dance floor. You’re all giggly and too energetic, the alcohol starting its effect.

Even though you told yourself that this was a night for just you and your friends, you can’t help glancing around to see his face. You can’t ignore the hope that he may have followed you. He takes over your thoughts and your friends’ voices become muted as you begin to look from corner to corner of the building just for him.

Is it possible to have formed such a strong connection with someone you never even talked to? The feeling he has created in you is something you’ve never felt before and you want more of it.

You want him.

It’s like the flashing lights gods hear you as one of them slides over a face on the second floor. You recognize him immediately and your heart jumps with excitement.

He’s leaning over the balcony that looks over the main dance floor. His eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes are roaming everywhere.

Is he looking for you?

Keeping your eyes glued to his face, you begin to move forward onto the dance floor. You don’t even tell your friends, your only focus being on him. You push further and further until you’re at the center.

Just in time, a new song begins to play. ‘A Little Death’ by The Neighbourhood fills up the room and it consumes you. (Listen now.) Your body gives in and begins to move. You close your eyes and just dance on your own, the bodies of people creating a sort of circle around you. You raise your hands and run your fingers through your hair before sliding them down to your neck.

You hope against all hope that he finds you.


Tom’s POV:

After quick hello’s and more drinks, I distance myself from the already drunk group that surround the owner. I walk to edge and find myself on a balcony where the whole club becomes my view. The flashing lights bounce off the walls and the bodies all moving against one another.

I take a slow gulp of my drink and set it down on a random tray. I perch myself against the railing and gaze down at the dance floor.

Immediately, I start looking for her. I hope she hasn’t left. I look from face to face, trying to find hers but with no luck. She’s nowhere to be found and I find myself slowly getting pissed and frustrated with myself for not approaching her sooner.

I start to give up when the music changes tempo and the new song that starts is slower. For some reason, I have the urge to stay and keep looking. I search once again and it’s like she was made to stand out from everyone.

She’s by herself. No friends. She’s dancing once again but she’s doing something with her hands that almost has me adjusting myself in my pants.

Her hands push her hair back and then they move down to her exposed neck. They continue their lucky path down her chest until they reach her hips and I’m already darting down the stairs, skipping steps to get to her quicker.

I keep my sight on her as I literally push people out of my way. I’m not going to let anybody or anything ruin this chance for me.


Your POV:

You feel heat overcome your body and your heartbeat accelerates rapidly. You bite your lip just thinking that maybe he’s there. Watching you.

She sought death on a queen-sized bed

And he had said, “Darling, your looks can kill

So now you’re dead"

You open your eyes and all the air escapes from your lungs.

He’s standing in front of you. His eyes are brighter than the lights dancing around you.

You’re not sure what to do but you do know you want him to touch you. You want to make sure he’s real and this is really happening.

You smile sweetly and slowly turn around so that your back faces him. You stare straight forward until you feel his body come up to yours. His breaths are warm against your neck. His fingertips graze the top of your arms and slowly slide down, his fingers intertwining with yours.

You gradually begin to move your hips against him and it’s like the music and the sounds around you unmute. You’re impressed at how well he moves with you. He squeezes your fingers before letting them go. He places his hands on your waist and guides you.

Since your hands are free, you reach up behind you and put them behind his head. He takes one side of your hair and places it on the other side, completely exposing your neck. The hands on your waist pull you closer to him so your whole back is covered by him.

You sense the tip of his nose skim the side of your neck before he plants a soft kiss on your skin. You’re pretty sure you moaned but the music drowned it out.

You drop your hands down to grab onto his and guide them down your thighs, your hips still glued together, swaying to the music. Somehow, he manages to turn you around so that you’re facing each other.

His eyes are dark now and you recognize the feeling they show since they might be reflecting your own. You reach out and run your fingers through his hair, pushing that one loose strand back. His hand comes up to your face and his thumb caresses your bottom lip so gently, you wonder if he even touched it. You dare to let your tongue peek out and lightly touch his thumb.

His eyes suddenly dilate and his hand slides to the back of your head. He pulls you towards him and your mouths make contact.

Through the fogginess of his taste on your mouth, you marvel at the thought that you don’t even know his name but one thing you do know for sure; you are completely and undoubtedly in love with him.

Submitted by @lionfart: congrats on the 4k followers btw!! i love ur blog!! <3

“With Flash? Are you serious?” You shrugged, taking your books out of your locker. You grabbed your Calculus book and returned your Chemistry one, after putting the Calculus book in your backpack, you shut your locker and headed toward the gym. “Why the hell would you go out with Flash?” You shrugged again, tucking a fallen piece of hair behind your ear.

“Because – I don’t know. He asked, that’s usually how a date goes, MJ. Someone asks, you accept, then – ta-da! you’re on a date.” You hiked your gym bag further up your shoulder and then tightened your ponytail.

“This has nothing to do with the fact that you’re trying to get over Loser Parker?” You stopped walking briefly, Michelle not stopping to wait for you. “It’s not a coincidence that a week after Parker dumps you, you’re going out with his arch nemesis?” You jogged slightly to catch up to Michelle, reaching her before she got to the gym doors.

“No,” you shook your head defiantly. “This has nothing to do with Peter. Peter doesn’t want to be with me,” you shrugged, your heart aching as the words left you, “then that’s fine. I’ll have to be with someone else.” MJ nodded at you, not believing you as she opened the doors to the gym. Upon opening the doors, the first face you saw was Peter’s, heading toward the closet next to the entrance to pick up a mat.

“Oh – uh, hey!” Peter cringed at the dense greeting, giving you a tight-lipped smile. You did nothing but nod at him, your encounter being interrupted before any other words could be exchanged.

“Hey, beautiful!” You looked up, smiling at Flash. “You ready for tonight?” You nodded, going stiff when Flash’s arm wrapped around your shoulder. “So, we’re gonna go see that, uh, old movie, right? What was it–?”

Rebel Without a Cause.” You finished for him, shrugging off his shoulder subtly and standing in front of him instead. He nodded, smiling at you before turning to glare at Peter.

“What are you looking at, Penis Parker?” Peter shook his head, looking back at the gym closet. Flash shrugged, saying he’d see you tonight before heading back to attempt to impress coach by climbing the rope. Peter turned around to say something to you after Flash left, only being met by the back of your head while you and Michelle made your way to the bleachers. Peter let out a sigh, grabbing a mat and sluggishly walking back to where Ned sat, waiting for him.

You and Peter had ended things a week ago – you had gotten too close to getting hurt and it scared Peter into breaking up with you. He regretted it immediately, desperately trying to convince you to go out with him again – you refused only because, to you, it seemed like it was so quick and easy for Peter to break up with you. Even though it wasn’t, Peter understood your hesitation, so he decided to give you your space, not thinking that, of all people, Flash would be a threat to him when it came to you.

“You should just tell her,” Peter gave Ned a look of disapproval, going back to doing his sit-ups. “Dude, you’re never gonna get her back by not telling her why you gave up in the first place–!”

“I didn’t give up!” Peter sat up, quickly becoming defensive. Ned shrugged, getting up when the bell rang.

“Yeah, well, that’s what she thinks.” He walked out toward the locker room, causing Peter’s shoulders to slouch as he realized his best friend was right.

“Hey,” Peter stopped you in the hallway before the end of the day, “I need to talk to you.” You looked down at what he was wearing, remembering the blue sweater he wore on your first date. You shook your head, trying to go around him.

“Peter, I have nothing to say to you. I have to go get ready for my date.” You didn’t mean your words to come out so harsh, but you also didn’t feel apologetic for it.

“I know, but – god, Flash? Of all people, Flash?!” You shrugged. “Don’t – don’t go out with him.”

“Why not?”

“Because, he’s just doing this to spite me!” You scoffed, letting out a humorless laugh.

“So, Flash isn’t going out with me because he might actually like me? Is that such an impossible thought?” Peter’s eyes went wide, his head shaking in disagreement quickly. He opened his mouth to say something but you stopped him. “Peter, you made it very clear you didn’t want to be with me. And, that’s fine. But you can’t do this – I won’t play this game.” Peter’s mouth clamped shut, he found himself at a loss for words. You shook your head, looking at him one last time before walking around him and out of the school. He looked at you, his shoulders falling as his posture slumped and his lip caught between his teeth, watching you walk out the school to get ready for your date.

You opened your apartment door, taking off your heels as you sighed loudly, walking toward your fridge to grab an iced tea. You were about to go sulk on the couch when there was a knock on your door. You internally groaned, stumbling toward the door. “Peter?”

“Please, don’t go on your date.” You shook your head, sighing.

“Peter–.” He interrupted you again.

“I get it, I screwed up – big time! I get that but, but – I just… listen, I – I’m Spider-Man. I know, I know, I should’ve told you. But, I didn’t want you to get hurt – I thought if I kept it from you, that I’d be protecting you, but you almost got hurt anyway.” He shook his head, pacing outside your door. “But, god – I miss you.” He stopped in front of you, his hands coming up to grab your shoulders. “I miss you – I think, I think I love you.”

“Peter!” Peter dropped his hands, looking at you with wide eyes. “You’re – you’re Spider-Man and you love me?” Peter’s face flushed as he began to register everything he just poured out to you at once. “I already went on my date,” Peter’s face fell, but it turned to confusion when you shook your head, “we didn’t even make it to the movie theater. I asked him to bring me home.”

“What happened? What did he do?” You saw Peter’s hand clenching into a fist, causing you to smile as you walked closer to him, his grip loosening when your hand touched his.

“He wasn’t you.” You shrugged. “We have to talk about everything – but, we could do that later. I missed you, too.” You tugged his hand, pulling him into your apartment. He turned to close the door, locking it. He turned to go back to you, being caught off guard when you immediately wrapped your arms around him. “I love you too, by the way.” Peter stiffened, relaxing when you gave him a small squeeze.

“Thank god.”

@thelifeofanengineeringstudent​, @tcmhollnd​, @raindancer2004​, @nedthegay​, @lanie103​, @umwhatandrea​, @punk-rock-princess-626​, @lunastarwatcher​, @t-a-m-s-y-n​, @enniaram​, @peterandchurros​, @omgfheishot​, @cynicallyxoptimistic​, @heytherepartner​, @theweirdlunatic​, @maggie-starz​, @lincdaisys​, @anastasiaannaa​, @tmrhollandkay​, @castellandiangelo​, @haileyallen123​, @1022bridgetp​, @comehomespiderman​, @parkerroos​, @ohparkers​, @monumentalmeltdown​, @marvel-is-my-job​, @cosmonautcharisma, @adventuresofchlocaine​, @tiny-friggin-human​, @homecunnings​, @suit-lady​, @tomfooleryholland​, @peterfightmeparker​, @peterfuckinparker​, @parkery​, @petersyoink​, @illegallyholland​, @theclonewarss​, @lovelyimagines​, @danielisnotonbranding​, @suit-lady

@lightningflamedragonaf : “ A one shot where midoriya/todoroki walks into his dorm and catches uraraka/momo trying on his hero costume. “ 

Thanks for the request! Enjoy this short, fun fic :)

In which Uraraka and Yaoyorozu gets caught 

“Are you sure Uraraka-san?”

“Yes I’m sure! Come on, Vice Prez, have some fun!”

“But isn’t that bad?”

Uraraka stood there, leaning back on her heels with her arms crossed. She was clearly unimpressed.

“Uh, no, it’s their fault for leaving it out in the open like that,” The Uravity heroine jabbed her fingers at the outfits in front of her, lying lifeless and crumpled on the head rest of the lounge chair. Said outfits being Todoroki and Midoriya’s hero costume. Despite looking as if it went under a typhoon and seemingly whipped back out, it was pristine. As expected of UA’s laundry delivery system.

Yaoyorozu bit her lower lip. I mean, no one was around right? Her eyes instinctively did a quick scan. Nope. Zero. None.  Just her, Uraraka, and the clothes.

“Okay, Uraraka-san, “ The creation heroine glanced over at her friend and back to the subject at hand for the third time, “let’s do it.”


Were they supposed to change in the lobby or should they take it upstairs to their rooms? Yaoyorozu already thought of 50 different possibilities within the time Uraraka took to pull off her tee shirt. The former did an audible gulp. If any of her friends came into the lobby at this very moment, she was sure she’d have a stroke.

The bubbly brunette, now fully ready to charge into Midoriya’s green costume, grinned widely and slipped her legs into it.

Yaoyorozu followed suit, hands shaking slightly. Todoroki’s outfit was way heavier than it looked and now that she had gotten a good look at it, that metal thing looked like a backpack. She coughed out a short laugh but quickly composed herself.

“What’s so funny, Yaoyorozu-san?”

The black-haired girl turned around just as she unzipped the item in hand.

“Wow, you look so adorable!” Yaoyorozu gasped. Uraraka looked too small for the costume and given her height, she looked as though she was engulfed in a giant green marshmellow monster. She even flipped over the hoodie, causing her to look even cuter, like an innocent bunny. Yaoyorozu reached over to grab the floppy rabbit-like ears that adorned the girl’s head. Yes, she had to take a picture of this!

Though, the creation heroine felt a smirk tug at her lips, she had to finish wearing hers first of course.

A short moment later and with the last yank of the zipper, Yaoyorozu was done with her part. The girls exchanged glances and within a heartbeat, a joy beyond words stirred somewhere deep within them and bouts of giggles flourished.

“Yaoyorozu-san,” Uraraka’s voice was tainted with mischief, “The zipper on your boobs is going to burst open.”

“Wh-what?!” The girl tilted her head down and instinctively placed her right palm on it, “No, I think it’ll be fine….sort of.” She paused and saw Uraraka hold her midriff in laughter, “Should I take it off in case I break his costume?!”

“No, you look great in it, Yaoyorozu,“ a deep voice called out.

The two girls whipped their heads around so fast Uraraka had to place her hand on her neck to make sure she didn’t dislocate something.

How did the two not notice their footsteps?!

Midoriya, face red with something hopefully not related to the flu, stood beside Todoroki, who was holding a mug of black coffee from Family Mart.

“Uraraka-san,” Midoriya began, “What… are you doing in my suit?”

Wow, it’s shocking that he hasn’t died yet. It’s quite obvious that the Uravity heroine was making his heart hammer like no other. The green-haired boy walked over, admiring. Uraraka responded with a grin and also with embarrassment tinting her cheeks.

“Deku-kun, I’m sorry,” Uraraka pulled the hoodie down, sounding quite defeated, “It’s my fault, I convinced Yaoyorozu-san to try on your costumes.” Her eyes darted over to Todoroki who was now inches apart from the Vice President.

Midoriya nodded, albeit a bit too fervently, “Apologies accepted. Don’t worry about it, you look…” He could see the anticipation written all over Uraraka’s expression, “You look so cute.”

The girl did her signature move: the widened eyes and heavy breathing. Midoriya could melt right then and there.

Yaoyorozu’s lips formed a thin line. Those two had it easy, she thought, at least they didn’t have to deal with this guy.

She was starting to feel the heat get to her, no pun intended, as Todoroki walked closer, placing his coffee down at a nearby stool. Yaoyorozu could never read him. His face and his tone of voice. Everything was shrouded in mystery. Todoroki never let slip his intentions and motives which sometimes made Yaoyorozu more irritated than her mother would have liked.

“Todoroki-san, please accept my humblest apology,” her fingers wrapped around the zipper and she heaved it downwards, until she realized that she wore nothing but a black sports bra underneath. Nevermind.

The boy in front of her looked deadpan as always, and Yaoyorozu’s brows knitted together in frustration.

“I’d much rather you chastise me,” she spoke. At least she could keep her dignity. Maybe.

Todoroki suddenly gloved his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

“Wait, before you take it off in your room,” he had to make sure he emphasized the word ‘room’, “Could I get a picture?”


Uraraka and Midoriya did a double take. It’s not every day you hear a Yaoyorozu shout like a madman.

“Todoroki-san, you want my picture?” The girl could feel her lungs failing her, “But, this is so shameful! As the Vice President of the class…how dare I-“

Todoroki cut her off, “Don’t worry, now look here and smile.”

Click. Flash.

Yaoyorozu swore her soul just escaped her.


Another click. Another flash.

Todoroki scrutinized his screen and squinted.

“Okay, great,” his voice was gentle and with a swift motion, his phone disappeared into the depths of his pocket yet again.

“May I ask, what is Todoroki-san’s intention with my picture?” the girl swivelled a little in her position, hands sweating from nervousness. Whatever he had in mind, it better not involve uploading it onto UA’s Facebook page.

The fire and ice hero made a smirk. Such is Todoroki, even a small smirk could send the girl to the moon. She shook her head slightly to keep herself grounded.

“Well why don’t you take a look,” He fished out his phone again and unlocked it, pushing it well onto her nose almost.

Yaoyorozu took a step back in horror. Oh no. Her picture was now his mobile wallpaper.

“That’s what you get for using my costume without permission,” The boy teased, “If you want, I can send you the pics.”  

She didn’t even know that he could make jokes.

“Uraraka-san, could I get a picture with you as well?” Midoriya spoke up, fingers twiddling.

Yaoyorozu, frozen in her position, turned to watch as the other two made a few quick selfies after Uraraka’s instant nod of approval.

“I-I think I’ll go change,” the Creation heroine’s feeble comment trailed off in tone.

Todoroki took a sip of his coffee, “Do you need help? Sometimes the thermal regulator can get really heavy.”

Ah, another joke from Mr.Jokester over here.

Yaoyorozu turned to give him a childish scowl before trotting her way to the elevator, vanishing from his sight.

As the lift made a close, she leaned back onto the railings and covered herself in her palms.

The girl sighed. Lesson learned. Todoroki can poke fun at you if he wanted to. Now, if only she could come up with something to get back at him too.

Going on a date with Tom Holland would include:
  • him still asking you out
  • “darling, will you go out with me to dinner tonight?”
  • “babe, i’m your girlfriend, you don’t have to ask”
  • but you secretly love it
  • you getting ˢᵘᵖᵉʳ excited because you never get to go on dates anymore
  • after he was casted to play Spider-Man, you never really got the privacy you once had
  • sometimes you miss it, and so does he, but you know this has always been his dream
  • him telling you to dress fancy
  • so you come out in a really nice dress with makeup and all
  • homeboy just stares at you in awe
  • you staring right back because hOT DAMN this boy looks fine in a suit
  • “you look stunning love”
  • him pulling your waist and kissing you while you blushed
  • soft giggles
  • “so where are we going?”
  • “we’re going to maccies, beautiful”
  • at first you didn’t believe him
  • but lo and behold, the McDonald’s parking lot
  • you felt so stupidly overdressed
  • but then he’d do nice things for you like open your door and hold his hand out and never letting go even when you show up at the counter
  • you get your orders to a table and people are already staring
  • you couldn’t tell if it was because they recognized him or because yOU WERE WEARING A DRESS AND A SUIT AT MCDONALD’S
  • him taking your seat out before you sit
  • him never taking his eyes off you
  • little shit just keeps smiling at you
  • “what?”
  • “nothing”
  • “you’re smiling”
  • “i’m just happy we’re here”
  • he shrugs like what he said didnt send butterflies to your stomach
  • feeding each other fries
  • or chips as he’d call it
  • him spelling I and U with the fries/chips and drawing a heart in between with ketchup
  • you laughing like it was the stupidest thing ever
  • but he knows
  • he KNOWS you find it adorable when he’s cheesy
  • he remains silly and romantic throughout the whole night
  • people have probably taken pictures already but you don’t really care
  • “we’ll be all over twitter by tomorrow, love”
  • you laughing at the thought of everyone seeing you both in such formal wear in McDonald’s
  • when it was time to leave, he rushed to stand up and take your seat
  • “thank you, kind sir”
  • “my pleasure, fair maiden”
  • laughing
  • you get to the car and start driving
  • “babe, this isn’t the way back home”
  • “the night’s still young, the date’s not over yet” he says with a wink
  • he drives up to an old park knowing no one would be there
  • he opens the door for you again and helps you up the car’s hood
  • you both just lie there and cuddle, looking at the stars and under the trees
  • holding hands again
  • “thanks for tonight, tom”
  • “anything for you, Y/N”
  • him kissing your temple
  • falling asleep on his chest
  • he almost drifts off before realizing that you cant sleep here
  • so he carries you gently back inside the car and drives back home where you both can cuddle and sleep in peace
The comfy way of living

Request : Hey there! I wanted to request a peter parker x reader! Can the reader wear glasses and keeps their hair pulled back in a loose ponytail all the time? And one day peter sees her without her glasses and with her hair down? And becomes absolutely smitten with her? (But make sure he loves her even with the glasses though) pretty please write this! Sorry if it doesn’t make any sense! ( @nevaehsuga )

Characters : Peter Parker x reader

Word count : ~1400

A/N : Oookay guys, not a new part of the hallway this time. Hope you’ll enjoy it too anyway. Clearly not my best but here it goes !

You never cared about beauty. You weren’t interested in makeup nor dresses. Actually, you lived for natural comfort. All you had in your closet was jean slims and large sweatshirts or t-shirt that you liked to put in your pants. It was your own definition of beauty, in fact. Comfort was the real way of living. You were disappointing your mother on this part, since she was all about girly things, for her a lady had to wear heels everyday, have makeup on her face even if it was just to take the trash out, and smile all day long. But your vans were way more comfy and you couldn’t swap them for some fake Louboutins.

People at school always pointed you out calling you ugly or weird. Fortunately, you weren’t the only one in this position. You made one friend few years back, MJ, who was like you on this point. For both of you, the most important was to be in harmony with your true self. Didn’t matter if this true self didn’t please the others.

You arrived at school with your eternal loose ponytail, and your new glasses you had received yesterday. You went with your friends of the decathlon, MJ, Ned and Peter. They were sat down in the courtyard, so you imitated them.

“Yop.” That was your personal hello. “What’s up people ?”

You caught Peter staring at you, which was kind of embarrassing. He had this power of intimidating you even if he was such a sweet puppy. You blushed a little.

“Don’t you have new glasses ?” Peter asked with an innocent and adorable smile. You were so pleased he noticed this small change.

“Stop looking at me with those amorous eyes.” You giggled.

Peter’s mouth opened on a grand scale, and it seemed that his eyes wanted to quit his orbites. “I just.. I..” He stammered. He couldn’t talk or think properly so he just turned his head, his cheeks getting pink. Michelle was staring at Peter and his reaction. What was that ?

The bell rang and you all went to class.

“My parents aren’t home tonight, anyone wants to come for a movie night ? I don’t feel like being alone.”

Michelle laughed, making fun of you and the fear she knew you had. “Again with that pseudoghosts haunting your apartment, [Y/N] ? There were no response when we tried to communicate last time. Don’t be afraid of something that isn’t there.”

“But I can’t help it ! Told you weird things happen all the time at my house, all these creepy noises.” You folded your arms and pouted. “Stop making a fool out of me please.”

“I’ll come, if you want.” Said Peter wringling his nose. “May invited some friends of the hospital, I was planning on walking down the streets all night.”

“Thank you, Peter.”

Michelle rolled her eyes. “You dumb, it’s just that your apartment is old.” She mutterred.

It was 6 pm and you were already in your pajamas, a large t-shirt you had stolen to your father, waiting for Peter to arrive. You felt a little bit stupid since Michelle pointed out your fear of ghosts, you knew many people didn’t believe in them and you were wondering if Peter was one of this believers.

Knock knock knock.

It was him. Who else could it be after all ? You opened the door, and found a fresh Peter Parker with packages in his hands. Potatoe chips and other salted stuff. While you were focused on the food, Peter was focused on you. You got out of the shower few minutes ago and your face was still slightly red, you had damp hair and didn’t put your glasses back on -actually you never wore them home. He seemed speechless, and you didn’t even noticed. Peter licked his lips, trying to come back from his thoughts. But God he found you so beautiful like that, he wasn’t used to you being such a cutie. You were beautiful everydays, of course, he was always amazed by how soft your traits were, but right now it was… Such a delight.

“You look… Different.” Peter finally said, entering the apartment.

“Oh ? I don’t know what you’re talking about, I didn’t change anything since we saw each other today.”

“Your… I don’t know, it may be your hair. It isn’t in a ponytail, I’ve never seen you with your hair down.” Peter sat down on the couch, his eyes couldn’t stare at anything else but you. “Why don’t you let them like that more often ?”

You shrugged. “I just don’t like to have my hair in front of my face. They fly everywhere and at some point I can’t see anymore. That’s really annoying, you’d understand if you had long hair.” You sat down next to him, checking Netflix. “What do you want to watch first ?”

He would have liked to respond “you” to that question, but that would have seemed really embarrassing. “Something funny. I guess you don’t want to watch horror movies so…”. You immediately blushed and hit his arm. Peter laughed at your reaction. Something was really different now in his heart, he felt that something was going on with him. You both had hanged out many times, but the atmosphere seemed different. Different.

You choose Bruce Almighty, which didn’t surprised Peter because he knew you were such a big fan of Jim Carrey. You talked during the movie, laughed, Peter couldn’t help but glance at you at times. Your hair was now dry and you were more beautiful than ever. He licked his lips each time he saw you laughing.

You noticed that your friend looked at you, but acted as you didn’t. You could feel that it was different between you two too. As if you were closer, as if there were no barreer. Peter was lying on the couch, and so you were half on him, your head on his chest. You never realized how muscled he was until now, but it was maybe because you had never been this close to him. You had never hugged before, but now it seemed like a normal thing. His hand came on your back, he was fondling it through your shirt with his thumb. It was cute, you felt great. Your heart was anormally beating.

Peter was hoping he wasn’t going too fast with this little gesture, but he wasn’t reflecting on it, he just did what he wanted to do, it felt right and you didn’t seem to be against it. On the contrary, you seemed to like it. You grabbed his shirt in your fist and raised your head to reach his jawline you slightly kissed few times. Peter smiled, pulling you closer to him after your lips touched his skin. It was electric. None of you was focusing on the movie anymore, you were too occupied by flirting.

Your heartbeats were dancing on the same rhythm. Peter pulled you closer to him once again, crashing you on his body. Your hair tickled his neck and he was so pleased you didn’t wear a ponytail right now.

“[Y/N]” He whispered. He didn’t really know why, he just wanted to say your name, felt like home.

You raised your head again so your eyes could meet. You both remained silent for some seconds before you took the floor. “Yes, Peter ?” Your fist compressed his shirt even more, he bit his lower lip. There was some kind of connection you never felt before. A magic connection you wanted to last forever.

“I want to kiss you.” He responded, didn’t knowing where he found the courage to tell you. You didn’t wait for him to make a move, you turned a bit to sit on his lap and his hands found your hips under your metallica shirt. You went down until your lips touched his for a magistral kiss you didn’t know you wanted that much. “Please always keep your hair down honey, you’re too sexy.” He told between two kisses.

It wouldn’t be your last movie night, for sure.

I was thinking: Magnus seems like one of those people who is very wonderful, but has spent most of his life having TERRIBLE taste when it comes to falling in love. Don’t we all have that friend, who is lovely and generous and kind and only falls in love with garbage jerks who hurt them?

I find myself wondering what it would have been like, to be one of the NYC warlocks, finding out that the leader of your people has ALLEGEDLY fallen in love with a Shadowhunter. “Maybe one of the kind of okay ones, who are nicer to downworlders, and unrelated to the more genocidal types?” Nope, the oldest Lightwood boy, scion of two Circle members. Hey, that’s terrible news! What’s that? This Lightwood person was very recently closeted and angry about it, and almost got arranged married to a lady Shadowhunter for political dynasty reasons? Even worse! Oh, and his best friend and weird tattoo soul partner is the dude who tried to implement mandatory chipping of all Downworlders so the Clave could track their every movement? NOPE NOPE NOPE

Everyone must have been having panicked conversations at Catarina’s apartment, trying to figure out what to do. Should they stage an intervention? Because OBVIOUSLY dating a Shadowhunter is a terrible idea anyway, but THIS one? Basically a cry for help! They all probably assumed that Alec was using Magnus the way that Camille used to— for money, for power, for magic for sex, for leverage, in order to piss other people off, depending on the day. If the majority of your interactions with Shadowhunters have involved egregious violations of your civil rights and/or murder, it probably wouldn’t be such a leap to assume that Alec was in it for HIMSELF and Magnus must be too lovesick to notice.

This is why a S3 where Alec gets to know the whole warlock extended family would be GREAT. Because they would expect him to be all authoritarian and sneering and obsessed with bloodlines, and instead he’s awkward and easily embarrassed and he looks at Magnus like he hung the moon. Half the time, when it’s a social event, he ends up retreating to a quiet room to play Apples to Apples with Madzie. If you stop by Magnus’s loft for morning meetings about warlock business, there is a 98% chance that Alec is either still asleep in Magnus’s bed wearing an ancient Carebears shirt (an inside joke that neither of them will explain) or he’s making big pots of coffee and putting out a plate of assorted cronuts before sinking down beside Magnus and curling into his side.

anonymous asked:

I forgot whether I sent a request in like this or not so I guess I'll just do it again. What would sexting with kang daniel and/or ong be like? I really hope you enjoyed your vacation!!! My family is planning to go to Europe soon too! <3

A/N: Ohhh that’s really cool, where are you planning to go? ^^ 


  • knowing Ong, sexting would happen mainly whenever he is away with schedules or just too busy to come home
  • he would use it mainly to get you in the mood and for him to relieve some of the stress
  • it won’t be a regular thing, he would rather surprise you with his texts and pictures
  • it would happen at a random time; you would be in the kitchen preparing dinner when you will receive a text
  • “babe… I just can’t stop thinking about you on top of me”
  • “moving slowly as my hands grip your thighs and my fingers play with your core”
  • “wish I could do that right now”
  • it would come with no explanation and it would all be just straight to the point
  • he won’t wait too much for your response before he texts you again
  • “what are you wearing right now, baby? can I see you? I miss your body so much”
  • after you proceed to send him a more flattering picture of yourself in that underwear he loved so much on you
  • he would be fast to text you back
  • things are going to get heated fast with Seongwoo
  • “since I can’t touch you right now, baby, would you do it for me?”
  • he would be a mess himself by now, but he would enjoy being in control and making you weak in your knees
  • “when I get home I hope I am going to see you in the new black lingerie I bought for you”
  • “I am going to rip it off and kiss you all over; sucking on your breasts as my fingers massage your wet pussy”
  • “damn babygirl, I love it when I can feel you almost dripping and that sweet taste in my mouth when I stuck my tongue deep inside you”
  • “I am going to be home soon, kitten and I am going to ravage you as soon as I walk through that door”
  • “you better prepare cause by the end of the night, all your neighbours will know you belong to Ong Seongwoo”


  • “hey princess… I know I am usually not like this, but I am at the practice room and all I can think of right now is bending you over the kitchen counter and have it rough with you” 
  • sexting with Daniel would be rare because this boy usually lets his actions speak for himself when he is in the mood 
  • however, he loves it when you send him a teasing pic showing a little bit more of your cleavage than necessary
  • or maybe a simple peek at your underwear 
  • Daniel’s texts are usually very vivid and explicit and he always tells you exactly what he wants to do to you 
  • or sometimes what he wants you to do to him 
  • after you respond to him with an equally teasing text message; Daniel would feel like he caught on fire 
  • he won’t be able to think about anything else other than your small frame trembling underneath him 
  • “I can’t wait to be inside you. You are always so wet and sweet whenever you wait for me late at night in nothing but my shirt”
  • “I wanna have your lips around my lenght and my hands in your hair as you suck me off”
  • “Then I am going to ride you all night long on that counter as you moan softly in my ear” 
  • “I am gonna bite your neck harshly and have my hand wrapped around your neck, that expensive red lipstick you bought yesterday is going to be all smudged”
  • “You are going to get angry because of it… but damn, you are so god damn sexy when you are angry”
  • his texts are usually very passionate, but sexy to make you want him and anticipate what is going to happen once he gets home 
  • “I wanna pull at your hair as you tell me to go faster and moan my name out loud” 
  • “God, I am feeling so needy right now. I just can’t get enough of you kitten, you always feel so damn good inside me”
crush // v.m.p.

you are seven the first time you hear the word crush. it sounds bad, wrong, not fun. a boy has just stolen your football, said to you “girls can’t play with this.” he tells you to go back to your skipping rope. you do. he’s what your mum would call a bully, he’s not worth your time, she’d say. she always says that when lauren mocks you for your lisp, always tells you not to get too involved. so you don’t. when you get home you tell her all about it, how an annoying boy stole what was rightfully yours – you’re angry, vengeful, upset – whilst your mum simply laughs. “he must have a crush on you,” she says, and you stare at her, shocked. you have never seen your mother not take you seriously. you have never heard this word either.

you are ten when a boy smiles at you across the field. he scurries back to his friends quickly after. your own friends are more excited about this than you are – “he probably likes you!” “you’re so lucky, it’s because you’re so loud!” you hear the word ‘lucky’ and feel important, special to someone. you want to be liked. you want to be loved. next time you spy what’s-his-face across the football pitch, you make sure to smile back. you can play these games, you can become the likeable girl. if it’s a competition you’re sure you can win, and that’s what this is. you look at your friends and suddenly you see competitors. it doesn’t feel fun, being in love.

you are eleven when you first kiss a boy. or he kisses you, you can’t quite recall. it is all action and reaction, the way your lips feel dry and it doesn’t feel as good as you expected it to. one kiss after another, no words pass between you and the mystery boy. there are no “I love you’s”, no passion, no meaning behind it. he leaves at the end of the day when all is said and done, after pulling you aside, whispering, “don’t tell anyone.” you wonder if he’s embarrassed of you. vaguely, you think you recall the same boy kissing another girl in the parking lot before summer camp. he has a girlfriend, you soon find out. romance is dead, you realise.

you are thirteen when you have your first boyfriend. he wants to be a rugby player, but this isn’t why you love him – he’s a musician, a pianist. he sends you videos of him playing songs dedicated to you, and you realise this may be the first time a boy has treated you kindly. you make things official – of course you had to be the one to ask – and you tell your friends. “I have a boyfriend,” you say triumphantly. your friends are happy for you, they really are – but they don’t like this boy and you know it. “he’s always putting you down,” your friend tells you, desperately trying to cheer you up after an argument. he’s been telling you your taste in music is shit, and quite frankly it was music that got you into this mess in the first place. you break up with him and focus on yourself. a boy is a bully is not boyfriend material.

you are fifteen when two unexpected things happen. you date a boy who may as well be perfect for you, and you start to notice a female friend in a new way. the tilt of her chin before she laughs, the way the sun catches her auburn eyes. it is a distraction, and not a welcome one. why can’t you be pretty? you feel threatened, you feel not enough. you never want to be alone again. your boyfriend is your sole consolation. “you’re beautiful,” he tells you, and sometimes you think you believe him. “way better than her,” he assures, and suddenly, you can’t. you can’t stop thinking about it, talking to him about it. you worry you’re talking him into loving her, so you split before he has the chance to leave you. your friends liked this one – they’re disappointed.

you are sixteen and you’ve had three boyfriends in the past five months. apparently, this makes you a slut. it is your friend who uses the word first, jokingly, and you remember laughing. other people start using it, though you can’t recall when it took on such a degrading tone. there is spite in it, but you play it right back – “at least I can get a boyfriend,” you snarl, breaking ties with the friend who first brought this ugly word upon you. it’s her fault, you decide. after all, she doesn’t understand. she doesn’t understand that none of them are interesting, that they’ve all been nice, charming, but it’s still not enough for you. you worry that you fall for every boy who’s nice to you. maybe they were right after all. when you ditch your friend, she calls you a “bitch.” and, well – maybe you are.

you are eighteen and you are a slut. you’ve had a long string of guys and you’re worried they’ll start to think you aren’t trying. your mum loves your current boyfriend. truthfully, he’s everything you’ve ever appreciated in a person. sharp, well-spoken, patient. he’s smart and he’s shooting for the moon. he wants to go to oxford university to study law, he wants to travel the world with you, he wants to marry you, and you aren’t sure why. you’ve been with him for seven months. you’ve reconciled with your friend. everyone likes him. everything is as it should be except it’s not. you don’t want to sleep with him. he’s mused about it before but is too nice to ask upfront. you can’t see yourself with him, travelling with him, marrying him – you are not his wife. you tell him this and he argues with you, says, “but I love you.” you cry in each other’s arms, but you know it’s over. maybe you killed romance.

you are nineteen and you’re out clubbing. at least that’s what you’ve been told, but you’re mostly babysitting your drunk friend. clearly you’ll be the one driving tonight. it seems like everyone is wasted, and you’re standing by the bar when you notice yourself noticing. there’s a girl across the room with dark skin and curly hair. she’s wearing a short, tight-fitted skirt and you know this because you’ve been glancing over at her all night. she’s doing the same. she gives you an obvious once-over and you shiver, turning away. less than a minute later and she’s by your side, ordering you a drink. you feel knots in your stomach and you politely refuse – suddenly you feel woozy, and she gently touches your arm, asks if you want to dance. pin-pricks race up from where her skin brushed yours. you want to accept, you step towards her, but then you think twice, hear the word slut echo through your mind. you leave soon after. you never see the girl again, but you can imagine her vividly when you close your eyes.

you are twenty when you tell your friends you might like girls. two of them are shocked, immediately placing a label into the equation that you never gave yourself – “oh, so you’re bi. when did this happen?” you say you don’t know, but you know that’s not true. you think back to when you were fifteen, to your disbelief your friend even exists, your disbelief your boyfriend couldn’t be interested. you think about this for a long time. you remember not wanting to sleep with boys. you remember you are not his wife when by now, you could’ve been. it is your other friend, your best friend, who isn’t shocked. she walks you back to your accommodation, asks you, “are you gay?” you say you think so, and she hugs you. it’s a lovely moment and you’ll always remember it. you don’t worry you might be in love with her. you know what love feels like now.

you are twenty-two and you have a crush. it seems like such a lovely word now. it doesn’t make you feel bitter, or angry. it makes you feel absolutely everything just that little more vividly, like you’re coming into being for the first and last time. she has copper hair and freckles and you imagine stringing them together into constellations. you imagine her taking you out. you imagine things like kissing, touching, breathing in the scent of each other and it feels weird but then it feels normal. you imagine things late at night when you’re cold and lonely that shock and embarrass you. you hear your peers sneering slut at you across the classroom in your mind. your best friend laughs when you call her at midnight. “it’s normal,” she tells you, “you’re just in love.”

you are twenty-three when you ask her out. she tells you she was waiting for you to ask, that she’d been dropping hints for months but couldn’t quite tell whether you felt the same. like all things, you think about it. how you’d stay up late at night texting her, drive down into the city to see her whenever you had the opportunity. how you called her a “good friend” when your mother asked. how you were afraid to be caught falling, scared of what it could mean, crying at night that you have an inability to love anyone properly. you ask her if she thinks you’re a slut. “how many guys have you been with?” she asks. you’re too unsure to be offended – something like fifteen, you say. she laughs. “you could tell me you’d dated every single guy you’ve ever laid eyes on and I wouldn’t think you’re a slut.” you tell her you’ve never dated a girl. you ask if that still makes you a lesbian. she looks at you seriously. “you just like girls?” you nod. “that sounds pretty gay to me.”

you are twenty-four when everything comes full circle. you are with your best friend and your girlfriend. you’re going home to visit your mum, and this time there will be no mincing your words. there will be no “good friend”. there is no slut, there is no shame, there is no doubt anymore. there will also be no boy, which is undoubtedly what your mother is expecting. when you arrive she is happy to see you, but you can tell she’s surprised. she invites you all inside before you can explain. your best friend offers to go and make some tea, gives you a look that says you’ve got this. you settle down on the sofa, thinking about copper curls and hips and curves and freckles and eyelashes and the quiet intimacy of catching eyes with a girl across a dance floor, how you can iterate that to someone who doesn’t understand. “mum,” you start, your voice shaking. “mum, one time, a couple of years ago, I had a crush.”

you are twenty-four and it’s taken you this long, but rest-assured no one can take this from you now.

150 (so far...) reasons to ship McDanno

Hi! Today I bring a gift to the McDanno fandom, courtesy of a lovely fan I met on twitter, @elsitaa, who asked me for a little help on a very nice project she had: watch every episode of Hawaii Five-0 and write of a list of all the reasons to ship McDanno. Season after season, she sent me a list and, believe me, after seven season the list was VERY long, but we managed to sort-out all the reasons and pick those that seemed more important to us. Now the list counts 150 reasons to ship McDanno, but this is most of all a wish for the show to make this list much, much longer.Now, I’m posting the list for you, and you are absolutely welcome to comment on it, add your reasons to ship McDanno, if you don’t find them in the list, pick your favorite reasons on the list or even, if you have the skills, make a video about it: feel free to use the list. It’s really just a way to celebrate this wonderful story of love and wish it the best, happiest evolution.

REASONS TO SHIP MCDANNO (150, so far… here’s to many more!)

1. The first meeting: sparks flying immediately and, most of all, the fact that fate brought them to each other in the worst time of their lives to give each other a reason to be happy again. 

2. Steve starting Five-0 because he found something, or better someone, in that garage: Danny Williams. 

3. Carguments (lovers’ quarrels) since day one. 

4. “Book’em, Danno”, a term of endearment. 

5. Steve’s gift to Danny and Grace to spend some quality time together: three nights at the Kahala Hotel. Just the first of many gifts that show how much they care for each other. 

6. “We are partners”. 

7. Grace telling Steve her dad talks a lot about him. Steve being delighted about it. 

8. Steve talking to the Governor to help Danny when Rachel threatened to bring Danny to court to change the custody deal so Danny couldn’t spend time with Grace. 

9. “Maybe you are not as alone here as you think, Danno”. 

10. “How long you two been married?”, something they have been asked a lot throughout the years. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I wish you would write a fic where... Damian was badly injured and Cass goes after the one who did it.

This also goes along with this one because Cassandra protecting her little brothers is what Gotham needs and deserve.

Father is going to be angry with him, Damian knows. Grayson’s going to be even angrier. And Pennyworth will make him regret this for a long, long time. It doesn’t matter. He will deal with the consequences later, for now he has to take care of the action.

It’s not easy, slipping into a kevlar costume with two cracked ribs and a broken wrist, but Damian manages anyway. The boots are the real problem, because to tie them he has to bend over, and it hurts. So bad that Damian ignominiously tears up. Because it’s the pain, and nothing else, making his vision so watery. Not the shame of having being held hostage by a few common criminals and beaten up in front of Father and Grayson. Not the feeling of having disappointed and dishonored both the costume he’s wearing and the people who trusted him with it.

He straightens his back with a hiss and something that someone else - someone without a strong survival instinct, like Drake - would’ve called a choked sob. He wipes at his face angrily, the rough material of his gauntlets scratching the skin, and then he turns around, more out of guilt and sheer instinct than anything else, because the shadow behind him never made a sound, never breathed loud enough for him to sense it, or moved in anything else than a deadly silent fashion.

“Out of my way”, Damian barks, without allowing himself to show any kind of surprise. “Father let them go in favor of getting me back to the cave. So now I will find them, and I will make them pay, and you are not going to stop me.”

He tries to keep his voice low, tries to imitate the imposing, menacing tone the Batman uses against his enemies, but even to his own ears the imitation is poorly executed and almost ridiculous. More tears wells up in the corner of his eyes and Damian feels like he wants to scream.

Cassandra’s hands are a soft touch on his shoulders, and yet Damian knows that he wouldn’t be able to shake them off if he tried. He looks up at her with anger then, a list of insults already rolling on the tip of his tongue. If he insults them enough, sometimes they leave him alone, Damian’s learned. Cain is not Drake, or Todd, but she’s not Grayson either. It’s worth a try.

But then Damian notices the blood on her chin, the swelling around her eye. He notices the cuts and the bruises and, more than anything else, he notices the angry line of her jaw and the look in her eyes. She’s not pitying him and she’s not angry at him. She’s angry for him.

That is a surprise.

Cassandra takes advantage of Damian’s stupor and kneels down in front of him. Now her hands are on Damian’s cheeks, cupping his face gently, mindful of the bruises.

“It’s done”, she says, and there it is, the voice Damian was so hardly trying to imitate.

Damian blinks. There’s blood on his sister’s hands. He can smell it, feel it under her fingers and over his own skin. He doesn’t mind. Blood had never bothered him that much in the first place.

“Father found them?”, he asks, confused. “But he was going to the docks. Gordon called him there and he said that it was more urgent- more… more important than-”

Cassandra shakes her head. The fury in her eyes doesn’t quiver, her hands don’t drop. The way she’s looking at him now, makes Damian think of Mother, and it’s weird, and disturbing, but not totally unpleasant. He never admits it even to himself, but he misses Talia sometimes. Especially when he feels weak, when he can’t find the will to pick himself up.

“I found them”, Cassandra explains slowly. “I made them pay.”

And she doesn’t kill, Damian knows. But she doesn’t pull her punches either. Not like Father and Grayson do. Not like Damian either, at least nowadays. When they fight, they’re all afraid to slip, to make a mistake and cross a line that shouldn’t be crossed. But Cassandra’s never afraid of herself. Damian envies that. He misses that.

“It wasn’t your job”, he answers her anyway, even if he knows that, with her, his kidnappers got exactly what they deserved. Not less, as it would’ve happened if Father had been the one to find them. Not more, as it would’ve happened if Damian had.

“Yes. It is”, Cassandra says, and all of sudden her eyes are soft, and she’s smiling in a way Talia’s never smiled, not in front of him at least.

Damian clicks his tongue at her and doesn’t correct her.

“Now bed”, Cassandra continues. “Before Alfred knows.”

She leaves him with a pat on his cheek and a kiss on his forehead, and Damian doesn’t even have the time to pretend he’s insulted by all of it.

Send me an anonymous ask completing the sentence “I wish you would write a fic where… (REQUESTS CLOSED, SORRY!)

Chris Hemsworth for Elle Magazine September 2017

Chris Evans told me he has to shave his chest for Captain America. Does Thor shave his chest?

That’s not one of my character-preparing jobs. I’ve had to wear extensions in my hair. That’s where my powers come from.

Do you notice signs of aging onscreen?

[Laughs] No. I see more the signs of, “We stayed out a bit late that night. Or had a bit too much to drink.” [Elsa] has La Mer moisturizer. She’s always like, “You gotta put this on.” As she begins to look younger and I look older, I’m starting to think she’s got a point.

I read that you worked as a babysitter when you first got to Hollywood. True?

I lived in my manager’s guest house and I used to babysit his kids a lot. I didn’t really know what I was doing.

As a babysitter or as an actor?

Both. I remember running lines while I was babysitting. One of the kids was all of four or five. He said, “Why are you talking to yourself?” I tried to explain the insanity of it to him.

Your mom was an English teacher. What’s a book she gave you that made a difference?

Dr. Seuss’s Oh, the Places You’ll Go! She gave it to me before I went to Hollywood. It was a book that we used to read a lot as kids, and it’s got a profound message about the ups and downs in life. I think she was aware of that kind of unease in me.

You’re so sensitive.

Yeah, mate. I’m quite heady. I spend a lot of time overthinking things. I’ve always had a sort of Jekyll-and-Hyde way of thinking. One side of me is like, “We’re gonna conquer this thing.” And the other side is like, “You’ll never work again.”

Tell us something we wouldn’t expect about [Thor costar] Cate Blanchett.

She calls you on your shit straightaway. Which is intimidating. You walk in and you’re doing all the usual polite chats, and she’s like, “Chris, what are you doing? Really, that’s the story you’re gonna tell?” And you’re like, “Shit, I’m not going to get away with anything with this lady. I have to drop the facade.”

The leading-man facade?

Kind of. You know, she’s Cate Blanchett, for God’s sake! There’s quite a feeling of wanting to impress her. She’s like, “I’m a human being. Act normal.” Before you know it, you’re drinking and telling stories and cracking jokes. She has a wild sense of humor.

When was the last time you were intimidated by another man?

The first time I really met Chris Pratt—and went on set with him and the Guardians—I was weirdly shaken. [Laughs] I don’t know why. He’s just so charismatic. And good at what he does.

Your wife is Spanish. You’ve been married for nearly seven years. Is it true you still don’t speak the language?

I speak some Spanish. About 15 words.

Do you ever get the sense that she’s talking about you?

Yes. When I hear my wife and my mother-in-law starting to quietly mumble something, I’ll be like, “Guys, guys—I understand more than you think.”

But you don’t.

Of course not.

You once said that Hollywood is “set up to turn you into a complete narcissist.” Is that why you moved home?

Everywhere you look [in L.A.], you’re reminded of what you’re a part of—or what you’re not a part of. And everyone you meet is talking about the same thing all the time.

The business, you mean.

It’s suffocating. It was getting tricky to leave the house because of the paparazzi. I just wanted my kids to have a different life—the outdoors lifestyle and camping and surfing that we had. Not to say you can’t get that in California. But I feel if you’re an actor, then it’s hard to escape it.

You’re the face of Boss Bottled Tonic. Did you get to smell it before you signed on?

They give you a list of the high and low notes. [Laughs] None of which I’m an expert on. But the one thing they told me is that apple strudel was the inspiration. It happens to be my wife’s favorite dessert. She likes the fragrance. That’s always a plus.

Last question: What are you reading?

I just read a great book called The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck, by Mark Manson. It’s a counterintuitive approach to happiness. It rang a bell in my head. I give too many fucks about a lot of things. Have a look. [Laughs] It’s a gift from me to you.


“Why is it that the happiest of moments usher in sudden fear?”










Niall meets your daughter for the first time!

“Do you think he will like this?” You couldn’t help but smile as you turned around and saw your daughter standing in the doorway of your bedroom. She was wearing her favorite princess dress, the one that was pink and had sequence all over the top. “I want to make a good impression.” Her voice was soft and sweet as she did a little twirl to show off her dress.

“You look beautiful,” you walked over to her and she smiled at you as you knelt down and pushed her hair back behind her ear. “He would be silly not to like it.” You added causing her to flash you her best smile as you smoothed out her dress a bit.

“Do you love him?” You could feel your eyes go wide as her words hit your ears. Her tone was full of curiosity, she tilted her head to the side as if she was trying to read your facial expression. You just stood up straight and went back over to your vanity. You could see her in your mirror shrug a little before she turned and walked out of your room causing you to let out a sigh of relief, you weren’t quite sure how to answer that question yet.

You heard a faint knock on your front door as you were slipping on your shoes, you gave yourself a quick once over in your mirror before heading out of your room. You laughed as you saw your daughter running down the hallway towards the living room. You knew she was so excited to meet him that she could barley contain herself all afternoon so naturally she wanted to be the one to answer the door.

“Mom he’s here! He’s here!” She shouted as you made your way into the living room and headed for the front door. You knew he was probably shaking his head and holding back a laugh on the other side of your front door. You stood behind her as she slowly opened the front door, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Niall standing there with flowers in his hand and a giant grin on his face as he laid eyes on the little girl standing in the doorway.

“Well I didn’t know I was havin dinner wit a princess tonight! I’m not properly dressed!” Your daughter giggled as Niall motioned towards his outfit before bending down and holding out the flowers. “These are for you my darlin.” He looked up at you and shot you a wink as she reached out and took them from him.

“No ones ever gotten me flowers before!” She looked back at you with wide eyes and a giant grin. “I like him already mom.” Niall stood up and laughed as she ran off towards the kitchen with her flowers in her hand. He quickly closed the space between you and wrapped you up in a hug.

“Missed ya my love.” His voice was low as he whispered in your ear quickly before giving your cheek a quick peck. You smiled as he pulled away and made his way into the living room while you closed the front door.

“How was your trip?” You asked him as you turned around and saw him take a seat on the couch. “Did you enjoy your little vacation?” You watched him roll his eyes as you went and sat next to him. He quickly placed his arm around your shoulder pulling you a little closer to him.

“Wasn’t much of a vacation love, had ta wake up bloody early everyday jus ta get asked questions dat had nothin ta do wit the album.” His tone was what made you realize he was slightly annoyed. “I mean who da hell wants ta know if I wear underwear or if I like ta sleep on the left or right side of da bed?” You put your hand on the top of his thigh giving him a light squeeze as he talked so he would relax a bit.

“Left,” He turned his head and raised an eyebrow at you making you roll your eyes playfully. “You sleep on the left side of the bed.” Niall just laughed and shook his head causing you to smile seeing him relax more. “She’s been talking about you all day.” You told him as you laid your head on his shoulder as you snuggled closer to him.

“Hope I don’t disappoint her.” He whispered in your ear, just then you heard the sound of feet running down the hallway and you knew any moment she’d be standing in front of the two of you.

“Niall I drew this for you,” you turned and looked as your daughter stood in front of Niall. She was holding a piece of paper that from the little part you could see had a heart on it. “Mommy told me you’re Irish, so I put that green flower on it that brings good luck!” You couldn’t help but smile as Niall’s eyes went wide and a giant smile took over his face.

“I am honored that ya drew dis masterpiece for me.” Her face lit up as Niall took the drawing from her hands. He was looking over the drawing when your daughter inched closer to him little by little slowing making her way into his lap. You loved how effortlessly Niall just opened up his arms and let her get comfortable. “What’s dis in tha corner?” He asked her and she laughed and rolled her eyes.

“That’s my signature silly!” Niall just nodded and acted as if he knew that the whole time. “I can’t write yet so I just sign it with a heart, mommy says all great artists sign their work!” You laughed a little as Niall gave you a little smirk and a nod.

“I’m gonna go start dinner.” you got up off the couch while Niall and your daughter got more comfortable as she explained her drawing to him. You walked into the kitchen and began getting everything ready for dinner, spaghetti was something you knew both of them liked so you figured that was a good idea for dinner.

“Ya know ya mum told me you were smart but she didn’t tell me ya were an artist as well! What else don’t I know about ya?” You smiled as you heard Niall talking to your daughter making her giggle.

“Did she tell you I can dress myself? Because I can! Got dressed today all by myself and I even brush my teeth by myself too!” You laughed as her voice floated into the kitchen from the living room, you heard Niall just chuckle. “Mommy told me some things about you.” You almost dropped the spoon you were sitting the sauce with when her words hit your ears.

“Oh really? What did she tell ya about me?” You could just picture Niall with a giant grin on his face.

“She thinks you’re super cute, she likes your voice, she told me that you used to be blonde.” You knew what was coming next, “she misses you being blonde. But I like your hair now, I think you’re very handsome.” You had to cover your mouth to hide your laughter.

“Ah so ya think she doesn’t like me hair? Should I go back ta blonde?” You rolled your eyes at Niall’s voice that was full of fake hurt. When you heard your daughters laugh you knew he got his answer. A few minutes passed and you took this time to peek your head into the living room and when you saw them sitting on the couch, her still sitting on his lap as she was playing on his phone you could’ve melted on the spot.

You knew he was going to do great with her, you knew he was used to being around little kids from his One Direction days. You weren’t really worried about her liking him, she enjoyed his music and loved the stories you told her about how you and Niall met and the dates you two had been on. But when you finally saw them together sitting on the couch waiting for dinner to be done you’re heart felt as if it was ready to burst. This was your little family and you couldn’t have been happier.

Challenge Accepted Part 2

Since I unintentionally broke a few people with the “Challenge Accepted” story, I return with part 2 to make amends. This took longer than anticipated but here it is. For those who want to see the Part 1, you can find it here.

Without further ado, I present you part 2

Fandom: Voltron

Characters: Lance, Shiro, Keith, Hunk, Pidge with slight mentions of Allura and Coran.

Trigger Warnings: No trigger warnings apply

Rating: G+

Word count:   1,800

Summary: A continuation from the “Challenge Accepted” fic in which Shiro finds out.

    While the Glara attack had not been anticipated, the paladins still managed to command enough focus to emerge victorious – even when they had been viciously pulled from sleep in the way they were. Shiro couldn’t help but puff his chest in pride. It was amazing to witness his teenagers form Voltron in the short amount of time they knew each other. Perhaps it was the responsibility of the situation that had been thrust upon them, but he was proud of how well they had been able to work together and how quickly and inseparable bond amongst themselves and their lions. It just proved that with a little bit of hard work, understanding and communication, even a small group of seven people could shake what was once considered the invincible Galra Empire.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Please can you write a modern au smutty feysand fic! Because you write feysand AMAZING and I love your work!

So I accidently made this really fluffy (like the first 1000 words are pure feysand fluff) and I don’t know how good a smut writer I am, but enjoy!

Warning: This fic is NSFW


“Where are we going?” I asked Rhys for about the millionth time since we had gotten in the car.

“I told you, it’s a surprise.” He replied, giving me a quick glance – and an eye roll – before turning to look at the road again.

“What if you’re just driving out here to murder me?” He shot me an incredulous look. “What? I just want to be prepared!”

“Feyre darling, if I wanted to murder you, I really wouldn’t have bothered with dating you for a year. If anything, it would just put me higher on the suspect list.”

This time it was me who rolled my eyes. “Still. And it would be the perfect cover up!” I insisted, giving him a glare, though it was one with no real malice in.

“Feyre, I promise that I’m not taking you here to murder you. Okay?”

A smile tugged at my lips. “Okay. But I will come back and haunt you if you did.”

Rhys smirked. “I’ll take my chances.”

Keep reading