and went back on the pitch before i was supposed to

How the Beca Stole Christmas

A/N: Meaghan has been bugging me for more fic, so here I am. I’m whipped, I know. Thought of this lil diddy while walking through a christmas store the other day. I know it’s not much, but I figured i’d give y’all a little somethin somethin. Also because @ssbechloe was begging for it & i’m weak. okay bye.

ps - yes duh i realize it’s july. But like Christmas in July is probably a hallmark holiday somewhere so shush.

It was their first Christmas in their new house together. After three years of dating Beca finally grew a pair and threw a key at Chloe over coffee. Chloe simply grabbed it, smiled, walked over and kissed Beca on the cheek and that was that.

Fast forward two months. They’re blasting Michael Buble’s Christmas album, against Beca’s will of course, and Chloe is dancing while throwing tinsel at Beca who is refusing to cooperate as far as decorating goes. 

“Chlo, I’m sick of decorating. I wanna be drunk on eggnog and watch the OG Grinch like you promised.” Beca walked in to their living room with two fresh glasses of cocoa. Obviously she hated almost every movie, but she couldn’t even try to hate such a film as the original The Grinch. She was weak, and she knew it.

“Becs we just have to finish the tree and then we can watch the Grinch.” 

“Ugh fine.”

Keep reading

the-queen-sees-all  asked:

I was wondering, what if Harry and Hermione had met before Hogwarts?

The first time Harry Potter met Hermione Granger, she was standing with her chin up and her hands on her hips a few paces from the old olive tree in the schoolyard, glaring into the far distance. The wind was trying to twist and buffet her hair into her face, but mostly it was just tangling cheerfully with itself.

Dudley and Piers were busy kicking all the other kids off the play structure, so Harry had retreated out into the grass. He stood a safe distance from the weird girl who was pretending to be a statue and thought wistfully of lunch.

“There’s a fallen bird’s nest,” the girl said in a rapid and certain tumble of syllables. “The boys knocked it out of the tree, but I chased them off and I’m hoping the mama bird comes back. I’m Hermione Granger. We just moved here.”

“Harry,” he said.

“How’d you get that scar?” she said.

“Car accident.”

“That’s a weird scar for a car accident.”

Harry shrugged. “It killed my parents.”

She blinked quickly at him and even at that distance he wished vaguely that she wore glasses, too, because her gaze was something that really felt like it should have some built-in bluntedness. “Mine are dentists. Mum’s taking me to the library after school, want to come?”

-

Before they went into Diagon Alley, Harry asked Hagrid if they could find a payphone. Hermione picked up on the first ring.

“Harry! Where have you been? I’ve been trying and trying to call–”

“Sorry, yeah. Um, so, I’m not coming back to school next year, I…” Harry drifted off, staring at Hagrid’s massive moleskin shoulders. The giant man saw him looking and gave him a tentatively cheerful little wave. “It’s been weird, Herm.” He pressed his forehead into the phone stand, but not too hard. “I think you’re the only thing I’m really going to miss.”

“Harry,” Hermione said and Harry started to frown, because that wasn’t her stern and startled voice. That was the voice that meant she was off down a charging war path of other thought and might not have heard him at all. “I’ve been reading.”

“Of course you’ve been reading,” he said. “I’ve been being forcibly hidden from a swarm of post office owls–”

“You’re in books,” she said in breathless delight, squeaking over the telephone line. “First thing we did, of course, after the professor explained, was get her to escort us to a bookstore– a whole bibliography, Harry, a whole world’s bibliography I haven’t even touched– how am I ever going to–” She took in a little calming breath, and murmured, “Different infinities, it’s okay, Hermione, okay.” A sharp exhale and then she tumbled right back into her rushing rivelet of a sentence. “And I picked up a good dozen, besides the school books, of course, and Harry, you’re in books, in Dark Wizardwork of This Century and A Modern Wizards’ History and October’s End: A Biography–”

“Hermione,” said Harry with slow enunciation. “Are you a wizard, too?”

“A witch, I think,” she said. “But I’m still reading up on the sociology of it all.”

-

Hagrid wouldn’t say Voldemort’s name, but Hermione would. She came over with a stack of books up to her chin, gave the Dursleys her normal pointed little stare that said she’d like to set them a little on fire, and curled up in his cupboard with him.

He supposed she probably could learn how to set them on fire, now, if she really wanted to.

She gave him passages and excerpts with his name in them, with his parents’ names, a home he hadn’t known. There were pictures of a ruined house with the smoke drifting in little curls of ink. There was his mother, smiling and waving in black and white. There was his mother, laid out on the floor, with a sober little caption below it. That picture was still, except for curtains fluttering in the window.

Hermione finally dragged her face far enough up from the pages to see Harry holding his own hand very tightly, and then she closed the book and reached for one about which magical creatures you should pet and which you shouldn’t.

“Sorry,” she said.

“I wanted to know.”

“I’m still sorry.”

-

The Grangers drove Harry, Hermione, Hedwig, and their trunks to King’s Cross Station. Mrs. Granger kissed the top of Hermione’s head while Mr. Granger mussed Harry’s mop of dark hair affectionately, and then they swapped children and repeated the treatment. Hermione pushed her hair back out of her face and marched them all to Platform 9 ¾, the entrance mechanism of which she had read all about.

“Before you go,” Mrs. Granger said, “let’s buy you some sandwiches? I don’t know what sort of food they’ll have past that–”

“There’s a trolley,” Hermione said, but her parents dragged them off to a snack kiosk anyway, Harry happily in tow.

As they were on Hermione’s tight schedule, there were plenty of compartments open, and they took one all to themselves– well, to themselves, Hedwig, and Hermione’s books, which took up two seats. (Harry would wheedle Hagrid into taking him to Diagon Alley for Christmas shopping that year, where he would get Hermione a carry-all bag for her small personal library.)

Hermione took a long preparatory breath while Harry unwrapped his sandwich. “Harry? What if I go and sit down under the Hat and I just sit and sit there, and then it says I’m not a witch at all?” Hermione said, the words getting more squashed together and higher-pitched as she went. “I’m not magic, it just got confused, and they send me home? Harry, I don’t want to be a dentist. Other people’s mouths are disgusting–”

“You’re not going to get kicked out,” Harry said, chewing amiably on his sandwich. It was not good, but the Dursleys hadn’t bothered with any breakfast for him and he hadn’t wanted to bother the Grangers about it either. It was a bit dry on the way down, but it settled warmly in his belly.

“But what if I do?”

“I’ll stage a protest,” said Harry. “Refuse to do my homework til they reinstate you.”

“You’re not going to do your homework anyway.”

“See how dedicated I am to you.”

She made a dismissive little noise at him, wringing her hands in her lap.

“Hermione,” he said, and she lifted her bush of hair to look at him. “You’re the most magical person I know. It’s gonna be alright.”

She gave a long slow blink but whatever she might have said was interrupted by an uneven knock at the door. “Um,” said the pudgy boy standing there. “I’ve lost my toad.”

Hermione leapt to her feet. “Where did you see him last?”

Harry followed in the wake of her forward charge, but he brought the rest of his sandwich with him.

-

(Harry did not know this and would not know this until Mrs. Granger mentioned it casually over a Christmas dinner years and years later– but she and Mr. Granger reported the Dursleys for child abuse and neglect, over and over.

The reports got lost– minds scrubbed down, papers vanished– but they kept calling in reports. They considered kidnapping. They couldn’t imagine why the wizarding world might want to keep their chosen one somewhere so toxic, why they might want to keep this underfed child and his messy hair with those people.

“My mother left me a blood protection spell,” said Harry, whose scar had not ached in years. He poked at his mashed potatoes under the focused attention of Mrs. Granger’s stern little forehead wrinkle. “I had to live with family, blood family.”

“Then they should have made them treat you right,” Mrs. Granger said, as though it was that simple.

Mr. Granger gave Harry another helping of peas.)

-

On the steps of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy thrust out his hand to the Boy Who Lived, who surveyed the open palm with amusement. “Thanks,” said Harry. “But I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself.”

The redheaded, freckly, hand-me-down clothes boy Malfoy had been bothering snorted. Harry slipped his hands into his pockets.

“You’re the kid with the rat from the train,” Hermione said. “And the spell that didn’t work.”

“It was a cool rhyme anyway, though,” Harry said. “Hi, I’m Harry, this is Hermione.”

“Yeah, she said, then. I’m Ron– uh, Ron Weasley.”

“Yeah, he said,” Harry said, rolling his eyes Malfoy’s direction. “Come on, you wanna stand with us? Hermione will tell you about the ceiling.”

“It’s enchanted!” said Hermione.

-

When Hermione founded SPHEW, Harry was not surprised. He had spent too many schoolyard days escorting spiders to safe spaces, keeping vigil over fallen bird’s nests, and watching Hermione stand up on her desk chair in heated pitched verbal battles with teachers. She’d driven at least two teachers to tears and taught most of them at least a few new vocabulary words.

-

Over summers and holidays, Harry and Hermione took Ron to the movies, to the seashore, to Hermione’s top three favorite libraries. Hermione’s Aunt Meg taught them how to whittle under a cloud of cigarette smoke that clung to Harry’s hair until he washed it out.

In this life, there were things in the Muggle world that Harry missed, that he wanted to see again. He loved Hogwarts, and he nominally went home to the Dursleys each summer, but he knew he always had a bed at the Grangers’. He knew the weird system they used to organize the books on their shelves. He’d pass Mrs. Granger the marmalade in mornings before she had to ask. He got free dental check-ups all his life, which was good because the Dursleys rarely bothered taking him into the dentist.

The whole Granger family tore apart newspapers every morning, calling article excerpts across the table and pointing each other to their favorite journalists. Before Hermione even first stepped onto Hogwarts grounds she got a subscription to the Daily Prophet. During Harry’s fourth year, Mr. and Mrs. Granger got Arthur Weasley to buy them an owl and then began an unending campaign of furious letters to the editor that never got published.

-

In a crumbling boat shed, Severus Snape died, but first he pressed a shining bundle of memory into Harry’s hands.

The fight was still going– Neville newly broad and certain; Luna whipping out quiet, barbed little curses; Ginny charging like an army in and of herself. Hermione had her arms full of basilisk fangs. Ron was moving people like bishops and knights. But Harry had a long damp walk before him, so he had time to wade through that life not his own.

Severus had been a lot of things– one of them was in love. Harry dragged his feet through forest mulch, seeing a little redheaded girl in sunlight, hands not his own offering her transformed flowers. It had been just them for so long. For Severus, for so long, there had been no one but him and Lily.

Even in Hogwarts, Severus had drifted through the classrooms and common room and library. He had believed in magic, in the cool slide of good knives through dried roots, and in Lily– always, always in Lily– Lily in sunlight, Lily chewing on her thumbnail over Transfiguration homework, Lily flicking soapsuds at him in her kitchen at home over summer, Lily pig-tailed and seven, wide-eyed as he showed her the first magic she’d ever seen, a leaf to a flower, a bit of sunlight to a bit of fire.

He had loved, and it had been a real thing. He had fucked up, and it had been a real thing, that heartbreak, that regret.

When Harry turned the Stone in his hand and saw his mother step into pseudo-life in that forest clearing, he thought I wish I’d known you. He thought about how she was in sepia and gray, here, just like in the pictures in the pages of Hermione’s books.

But he was also thinking about Severus. He was remembering Lily in sunlight, remembering her walking away, remembering her in that same cold photographed sprawl but in color–in grief–in bruised knees and heaving gasps.

Severus had been the first to find Lily’s body and it had felt like someone had cut the sunlight out of him. Harry was living through that grief, but he was also living through the wail of the child crying unacknowledged. His tiny pudgy hands were wrapped around the guardrail of his crib.

Harry was thinking about a girl standing in a field like a statue, hands on hips. He was thinking about Hermione’s raised hand ignored in Potions, or the way Snape had sneered that he didn’t see a difference in her cursed teeth. Love had made him brave, perhaps. It had killed him, but it had not made Severus good.

Harry wondered if his mother would have escorted spiders to safe places, if she would have stood guard over fallen bird’s nests, if she had worried herself to pieces that first time on the Hogwarts Express about the Hat telling her she didn’t really belong.

“I wish I’d known you,” he told the specter of Lily Potter. He held his own hands tight.

For Harry, for so long, there had been no one but him and Hermione. Even in Hogwarts, there were things only she would understand– parking meters, the cobweb ceiling of his cupboard, the silence of marmalade at breakfast. Harry believed in magic and he believed Hermione Granger was the most magical thing he knew.

“They’ll be alright,” he said. “I’ll be alright. I was alright, mum. I wish I’d known you– but I wasn’t alone.” He squeezed his hands tighter– Hermione showing him her favorite spots in her favorite libraries; Ron shyly showing them the Burrow like it was anything less than a magnificent masterpiece of warm rooms and patchwork architecture; Hermione standing in the field like a statue, bushy-haired and seven years old, jaw set. “She wasn’t alone, either,” he said. “And she’ll be alright. Ron will be alright. I have to do this, don’t I?”

“We are so proud of you,” Lily said.

“Thanks,” said Harry. “Sorry,” said Harry, and wondered if Hermione was going to be able to read the little passages and excerpts with his name in them, with those un-moving pictures and the sober captions underneath.

He dropped the Stone.

-

When Harry Potter died for the first time, crumpled in forest mulch, he didn’t go to a squeaky clean King’s Cross Station. There were no crescent moon glasses to twinkle kindly at him.

He stood under an old olive tree and a little girl looked up at him with those eyes that needed shielding, needed blunting, needed a manufacturer’s warning. “A wind’s coming,” she said. “You can just go. It will be easy.”

He stood outside Diagon Alley, a Muggle payphone tucked between his shoulder and ear. “You’re in books,” she said, with a breathlessness he’d barely heard for years. There had been too much weight on his shoulders, on hers. “You’re done,” she said. “You’ve done enough. Go on, tap three bricks up and two to the left.”

He stood in Godric’s Hollow, in the snow, holding her hand, looking at the ruined house. “You should have had this,” she said. She was seven and small, not nineteen and weary like she had been in life. The sky was overcast but there was sunlight glinting in her hair. “You can still have this. You can have everything.”

“You’re not real,” Harry said.

“But you are,” she said. “There’s a wind coming. It will be easy.”

“You’ve never done anything easy in your life,” he said.

She took both his hands– hers were so small against his grown fingers, his broad palms, and how had they done everything with hands that small? Basilisks and werewolves; shouting down teachers from atop desk chairs.

Harry was sitting in his cupboard in the light of its single bulb and he was too big for this space, his shoulders curling forward, his head bowing. She was standing there with sunlight still in her hair and her arms piled high with books. “You don’t belong here,” she said. “It will hurt. You won’t fit, if you go back. Everything can be easy. Everything can be fine. It doesn’t have to hurt, ever again.”

“Hermione,” he said and leaned forward, put his hands on her hands where they were gripping her books. “It’ll be alright.” He smiled and she was staring at him with those eyes, those goddamn eyes. “We never fit, remember?”

“We tried,” she said and Harry squeezed her small hands gently.

“Send me back,” he said. “I want to go home.”

-

After the battle, as Hogwarts rang with frantic healing, crushing grief, and raging celebration, the three of them retreated to the library. Hermione hauled them down narrow aisles until she found her favorite tucked-away nook and they all collapsed on sagging sofas that seemed to not have been touched at all by the war.

“Well,” said Hermione. “What now?”

Ron let his head flop back against the seat, hair tumbling all over his pale forehead. “I’m going to nap,” he said. “For a month.”

“That’s not physiologically possible,” said Hermione. “Or if it is, then it’d be a coma.”

“It’s a metaphor,” Ron said, then: “no, wait, a hyperbole.” Hermione beamed at him. He blushed a little and elbowed her gently.

“After this, you’ll be in books, you know,” Harry told her.

“Not– I mean–” Hermione rubbed at her nose furiously. Ron laughed enough to wake up and sit up, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

While Ron came up with outlandish titles for Hermione’s eventual many biographies, Harry pulled his feet up onto the sofa. He watched the candles float quietly between the shelves.

I Heard That

Imagine: You are always quiet in math, a class you happen to share with Peter Parker. Once you finally muster the courage to speak up, Peter finds a type of excuse so he can spend more time with you.

Word Count: 1100??? maybe

A/N: This is shitty and rushed but I have an assignment due on Monday that I haven’t really started sooO soz

Your fingers cramped as you attempted to write the answer before the timer at the front of the class went off. Several groans could be heard around the room as the renown alarm bounced off the walls of the quiet room. You rubbed your tired eyes beneath your glasses in hope that it would somehow get rid of the slight sleepiness that began to claw at them. Nevertheless, you began gliding your pen over your answers with concentration in attempt to find any mistakes.

“Alright then,” Coach Johnson, your Maths teacher spoke enthusiastically, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Who’s up first?”

The room remained silent as heads lowered to look down towards their work. Coach’s voice was louder this time, sounding slightly more impatient, “Any volunteers? No? Alright then. You’re up, Parker.”

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Thoughts on Draco and Kids.

Draco “eternal stick up my ass i hate everyone including you” Malfoy is not the person parents want to babysit their kids. He’s rude, blunt, sarcastic and foul. He’s the man who would save a baby from a fire solely because he knows what the parents would say if he didn’t. Draco Malfoy is the man who sets infants in cribs and leaves them to cry themselves to sleep. He never had a happy childhood, so why should they?

Except he’s not.

Draco Malfoy is the man who sings lullabies to a newborn Rose Weasley and rocks her to sleep. He’s the man who gave Teddy Lupin his first broomstick and taught him to fly, but not before teaching him to read and write. He’s the man who stargazes with Hugo and brings him chocolate when he’s feeling down. He’s the man who holds life in his arms and sees it for what it is: an innocent, precious gift. He never had a happy childhood growing up, and he’s going to give them something that he, as the boy who had everything, never had: childhood memories worth remembering.

Draco Malfoy is not the man people think he is, but the reasons behind his reluctance in sharing are unknown.

Harry saw him hold Teddy Lupin in his arms after his trial. They sat in a room waiting for his mother and Andromeda outside. He was awkward at first and the tears came before the smiles. Had Harry Potter not done what he’d done… a chubby hand with fingers the size of his nails non-too-gently patted his cheek after a few tears had fallen, and knowing how annoying children could be when upset, Draco smiled softly and wiped his eyes. One silly face turned into two, and that dark brown tuft of hair turned the exact shade of his white-blonde locks. He screamed, Harry laughed, Teddy cried, the hair was back to brown.

“He does that,” Harry remarked and gently bounced the child back to sleep.

Draco Malfoy went out for coffee with Harry Potter two weeks later. One cup turned into two, one meeting turned into five, one shop turned into a house. Three months later one quick babysitting date turned into one late night stay for his baby cousin. Draco Malfoy kissed Harry Potter that night with one soft infant snore in the background.

He met Victoire Weasley a few months later at the burrow for Christmas Eve Dinner. Molly Weasley’s pumpkin pudding did nothing to ease his nerves and the hard stares of George from across the table. Ginny smiled at the door, and Molly smothered him with hugs and food.

“As thin as Harry, young man… As thin as- Here, have some more potatoes!”

One plate turned into two, and by the end of the night he must’ve gained half his weight from treacle tarts alone.

Bill was strumming a guitar and not wanting to stand in the doorway besides George, Draco left for the kitchen. Three minutes later and a halfhearted argument won, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his hands were scrubbing plates.

“Always do it the muggle way,” she’d said. He couldn’t remember the rest. Near the end Victoire unsteadly crawled into the room. Her hair stuck up on one side of her head and it was clear the child had been sleeping. Sleep lines on her face didnt cover the dried spit all over her chin, and Draco smiled gently as he bent to down to pick her up.

“Miss Victoire,” he’d called her that first time. Laying her horizontal in his left arm, he wiped her chin and rocked her back to sleep. He continued to help clean the room with one hand, and didn’t miss Molly Weasley’s smile.

When Rose came along, Harry was already the favorite babysitter. He and Harry had been living together for quite some time, although it was clear the resident Weasley parents saw Harry as the sole caretaker on work days. They flooed in, asking if ‘Harry could babysit?’/p>

Draco didn’t mind, he never talked much about children. He liked them, but when Harry was blowing raspberries at Teddy on the dining room table, he didn’t take Teddy for himself.

Very few people know him as who he is, Draco and not Draco Lucius Malfoy. He takes pride in his name, but takes more pride in making Dominique smile when she’s pouting and teaching Rose the wand movements for 1st year charms at just 8 years old. He takes pride in his intellect and control, but takes more pride in perfecting his Princess Victoire and Teddy the Dragon voice when reading aloud Teddy’s favorite book.

Nine years later, at Christmas Eve dinner, while Arthur opened the wine bottles, Draco dismissed himself silently and walked upstairs. In the children’s room, Harry was laughing with the kids when he saw Draco standing in the doorway with a smile on his face. He looked back to the kids and stood up. When he told them Draco would read a special story, all protests at Harry’s departure ceased.

When Fluer walked up to kiss her three children goodnight, she had to stop herself from entering the room. Two minutes later, and the rest of her family was beside and behind her, staring into the room. With a high pitched voice, Princess Victoire shouted out from Draco’s lips.

“I may be short, and I may be a princess, but I’m strong! I’ll save my baby sister from that dragon!”

“The baby princess!” Dominique interuppted, and Draco smiled and nodded before turning the page.

When the voice of Teddy the Dragon came out of his mouth, Teddy the Human let out a pitched growl. “I’m gunna eat you!” He shouted and Hugo giggled.

“Hurry Uncle Draco! Ted’s gon eat 'Toire!” Rose added.

It started to make sense, and some adults found themselves laughing along with their kids. Things began to connect, and suddenly it was clear to the Weasley’s. Why their children, and grandchildren, called him “Uncle Draco.“ Why they screamed happily and ran up to hug Harry and Draco during babysitting days. Why Teddy spent half his childhood with white-blonde hair.

Two weeks later after the Hols had ended, Draco got a fire call from Hermione Granger. Almost immediately, he stood up and brushed off his pants.

“Hermione. Hello. Harry’s, uh, upstairs; I can go get him, if you’d-”

“Oh no, it’s fine.” She cut him off, and before Draco could feel the awkwardness creep up his veins, she had already continued on. “Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to babysit…?”

ifeelbetterer  asked:

Gotg prompt: how did Rocket learn to speak Groot?

“Repeat after me, Quill: I am Groot.”

“I am Groot,” Peter said dutifully. He felt like an idiot, but there were only a limited number of ways to while away quiet nights on the ship when neither of them could sleep. If it was him and Gamora, or him and Drax, they could spar, but he’d only tried sparring with Rocket once. It took weeks for the bite marks to heal.

Rocket’s oddly expressive – for a raccoon – face wrinkled in an expression of disgust. “Do you even hear yourself? That is nothing like what I just said.”

“Dude, that is exactly what you just said.”

“No, I said ‘I am Groot’ and you said ‘I am Groot’.”

“Which is … the same?”

Rocket stared at him for a long moment, then pointed at his snout. “Read my lips: I am Groot.”

“Was I supposed to repeat that, or …”

Rocket showed some teeth. Peter shut up. There was a moment of silence and Peter was just about to put his earbuds back in and quit with the language lessons when Rocket said suddenly, “Quill, if I say, 'I am Groot,’ just like that, what do you hear?”

“Is this a trick question? Especially the kind of trick question that’s gonna end in you pissing on my bed?”

“That was only once, and you had it coming –”

“Rocket –”

“No, for the love o’ cheese, it’s not a trick question. Just say 'I am Groot’.”

“I am Groot,” Peter said. “I feel like a complete jackass right now, in case that was your intent – hey, where are you going?”

“Jus’ need to get a thing!” Rocket’s voice trailed behind him.

Peter flopped back down in the chair in the mess and put his earbuds in. He was actually getting sleepy, and considering going back to bed, when Rocket jumped up onto the table in front of him with something clutched in his paws.

“What’s that?” Peter asked, sitting up. He palmed off the Zune and took off the earpieces. He had to hand it to Earth tech: the new music player was a lot more convenient to carry around than his late, lamented Walkman.

Rocket’s device was a thin, flat screen about the size of a hardback book; he had it clutched with a paw on each side while readouts rippled quickly across it.

“Okay, now say 'I am Groot’,” Rocket declared, studying the screen.

“Come on, man, do we really have to go through this again?”

“Humor me.”

Peter sighed and slouched in his chair. “I am Groot.”

Rocket’s ears pricked forward. “I am Groot,” he said, and tapped the display with his paw, causing the tiny, scrolling lines and numbers to freeze. “Did that sound the same to you?”

“Well … yeah?”

The flat pads of Rocket’s fingers danced across the display, and he laid the screen on the table between them. “Know what you’re lookin’ at?”

“Squiggly lines,” Peter said automatically.

“Did your mama drop you on the head a lot as a baby, Quill?”

“No, but Yondu did occasionally.” Peter rested his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. As much fun as it was to mess with Rocket, he did actually think he knew what the raccoon was getting at. “That wiggly line is some kind of … uh … noise – wiggle – curve, right?”

“That’s real precise.”

“I was abducted from Earth before we got to algebra in school. Cut me some slack here.”

“Excuses, excuses. I was raised in a cage and my mother had an IQ of 3.” Rocket touched the display, zooming in on it. “Point is, I don’t think it’s just that all a’ you two-legged bunch is too obtuse to understand perfectly clear speech –”

“Thanks.”

“– like I used to think. It’s more like, my ears hear at higher and lower frequencies than yours do, so I get different overtones. Put simply for the simple, I can hear things you can’t.”

Peter leaned forward, intrigued. “So, wait – you mean all this time, all his 'I am Groot’s sound different to you?”

He realized what he’d said as soon as the words left his mouth, and got the flat 'I am dealing with morons’ look from Rocket that he’d instantly realized he had coming. “How am I supposed to understand him if they don’t, Quill, I ask you?”

“Okay – point – but … so why does it sound like 'I am Groot’ to the rest of us?”

“It sounds like 'I am Groot’ to me too.” When Peter glowered at him, Rocket held up a paw. “No, I ain’t messin’ with ya. This time. No, that’s what the translation unit picks up, 'cause it ain’t so smart about some of the less humanoid languages. It’s just, I hear it like …” He hesitated and waggled his paw. “It’s like your music, right? All those up and down tones at the same time. Groot can do that. Your throat, my throat, can’t.”

“Singing?” Peter said after a minute. “Groot’s singing?”

“I refer you back to the part about bein’ dropped on your head.” Rocket pursed his lips and let out a sharp whistle, making Peter jump – there was still some part of him that couldn’t quite hear whistling and not expect a death arrow to follow an instant later. And he might not be the only one, because Rocket stopped abruptly, closed his mouth, and then said, “Quill, do this,” and hummed softly.

It wasn’t really a tune. “You just want me to hum?” Peter asked. “Like, generic humming?”

Rocket curled his lip and the hum became more of a snarl.

“Right, humming,” Peter said hastily.

The funny thing was, the instant his soft hum of response hit the right harmonics with the note Rocket was humming (and the raccoon did have a good sense of pitch; Peter had always suspected so) he understood exactly what Rocket was getting at.

“Ohhhhh. When Groot talks, it’s like a symphony. Is that what you mean? And the 'I am Groot’ part is the part in the human audible range.”

Rocket’s ears and tail went up cheerfully. “Yeah, ezzactly. He’s tryin’ to communicate, it’s just he didn’t get any farther than 'I am Groot’ when he was learning. It’s as hard for him to do the talkin’ part for the translators as it is for you and me to do his kind of talk. He can hear us just fine, though. Actually to him, understanding our talk is dead easy.”

“So how do we understand him?” Peter asked. “Can you, I dunno, juice up the translator so it picks up a higher range of frequencies, or something?”

“I dunno. That’s not a bad idea.” Rocket tapped his claw against his teeth before picking up the screen thing and hopping off the table. “Have to think on it. Don’t wanna explode your heads or anything.”

“Yeah, well, on that lovely note, I’m goin’ to bed.” He actually was tired enough now to fall asleep in spite of the inevitable nightmares (the bitter cold and darkness of space; Ego’s face dissolving in his hands; his friends crushed by rocks or blown apart). The music helped as it always had, a melodic bulwark against the dark, wrapped gently around his heart – but it could only do so much.

Rocket grunted absently as he trotted off, already engrossed in figuring out the problem.

The thought occurred to Peter as he wandered back to his quarters, thumbing idly through the songs on the Zune, that these sorts of mechanical puzzles served the same purpose for Rocket as his music did for him: something to make his mind go quiet.

The music did that … and so did letting Gamora beat the stuffing out of him in the ship’s small exercise area. Or getting language lessons from Rocket. Or –

“I am Groot?”

Peter jumped as small hands grabbed hold of his pants leg. Groot shimmied quickly up to perch on his shoulder.

“Hey, little buddy.” Peter opened the door to his quarters and left it open so Groot could come and go as he wanted. Or so he could hear if anybody got into a fight or whatever. He flopped wearily on his unmade bed, careful not to dislodge Groot. “You know, I’m not sure how much of this you can understand right now, but Rocket’s teaching me to speak your language.”

“I am Groot?”

“Well, to understand you more than speak it, I guess I should say.” He was lying on his back now and he couldn’t really see Groot except out of the corner of his eye, but he could feel the little tree shifting around in the hollow where the collar of his sweatshirt rested against his neck.

“I am Groot,” Groot said insistently, almost in his ear. Small hands patted at the side of his face and his earlobe.

“Yeah, yeah.” Peter pinched one earbud between two fingers and held it where Groot could get at it. The little hands took it out of his fingers. Peter settled himself comfortably as Groot squirmed somewhat ticklishly against his neck, and sorted through the songs. “How 'bout Elton John tonight, buddy?”

“I am Groot,” came the sleepy answer.

“You know, little guy,” Peter murmured, as the first strains of the music began to play and Groot snuggled comfortably against his neck, “whether or not Rocket can get his new gadget working, I think we understand each other just fine, don’t we?”

“I am Groot!”

anonymous asked:

Wishing I was spending my afternoon cuddling with Peter and watching Disney movies in a pillow fort. Cute nicknames and maybe a make out session would be lovely, sorry if that's too much but thank you for taking the time to either do this or read it. 💙

a/n: you are soo sweet! im sorry if this wasn’t what you were expecting but I can’t even contact you bc anon but if you read this i really hope you like it

Originally posted by hamilll

Masterlist

You sighed deeply, he was late again. Your fingers ceased their tapping on the table, getting up before leaving to go to your room. You and Peter were supposed to go out for ice cream and a movie. Usually, you wouldn’t get upset or frustrated with him because you knew he had a lot going on in his life but this was the third time he has done this. You checked your phone, reading the last text message he sent you.

Be there in a few x

That was over two hours ago. You closed the door to your room, dropping your head against the door frame.

“Peter..” You mumbled in disappointment.

“Yes?” You jumped up, grabbing the nearest object before turning around and aiming at the person who scared you. Spider-man himself was standing in your room, both of his hands up in surrender. You watched as a muscled arm reached behind his head to pull the mask off. You watched as your boyfriend’s hair bounced slightly from his actions. You lowered your arms, waiting for him to say something.

“Were you really going to defend yourself with a lamp?” He attempted at a joke. You frowned further, setting the lamp back in it’s rightful place.

“Are you really going to start sassing me after having me wait two hours for you?” You crossed your arms, hip jutting out slightly. An eyebrow raised and a frown etched into your features you watched Peter fumble for words. You felt your shoulders slump a little.

“I’m sorry I was late. I was driving over here to come and pick you up for our date when I heard the sirens in a distance and gunshots and I know both you and Stark tell me to stay out of it and I really did want to, trust me Y/N I really wanted to but I just couldn’t bring myself to ignore people’s cries. i went to go text you but my phone died.” You watched as he reached for his phone in a pocket of his backpack. His fingers held down the power button before showing it to you. A picture of an empty battery popped on the screen for a few seconds before becoming pitch black again. You sighed, shaking your head.

“I don’t blame you for doing that Peter, and I know I shouldn’t be mad but-”

“You have every right to be mad at me. But I did stop at a few stores to make it up to you.” Peter motioned for you to sit at the foot of your bed. You contemplated your options. You didn’t want to be mad at him for helping other people but if he really wanted to be with you, he was going to have to make some sort of sacrifice. There are cops for a reason and you are pretty sure that they would have done their job. You don’t know if it was the exhaustion or the fact that he had a bruise by his cheek that you love to kiss so much but you decided to see what he had planned. He leaned over and kissed your forehead, whispering ‘thank you’. Whether he was thanking you for sitting down and giving him a chance or for not kicking him out would be left a mystery to you. He turned his attention to his backpack, ruffling the clothes and loose papers in there.

“Don’t you think that if someone sees Spider-man with the same backpack as you it wouldn’t raise some questions?” You asked, trying to see over his shoulder as he reached almost elbow deep into the backpack.

“No, a lot of people these days have black backpacks, if anything people can narrow it down to a high school student and even then it’s too broad.”

“Not every teen has a “Stark Industries” patch on theirs though…or a captain america patch either. I think it’s a little obvious.” You retorted. Peter finally found what he was looking for. He pulled out three things from the bag. Your eyes focused on the objects held in his hand. “The Tonight Dough” (your favorite Ben and Jerry’s ice cream flavor), with another flavor balanced on top, and in the other hand he had small stack of Disney movies. You smiled when you saw the ice cream, immediately going for a pint. You went to open the lid until you realised that there were no spoons. You were about to ask if he had brought any by any chance until your eyes landed on him. He had two spoons held in his mouth.

“Surprise.” He mumbled through them. You laughed a little, admiring how cute he was and how he never failed to make you smile. You grabbed the spoons from his mouth before rising to your knees, leaning over, and planting a kiss on his lips. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, scooting up the bed further. You heard a small thump on the floor before feeling his cold, glove-covered hand on your hips, indicating that he had probably dropped the other ice cream. His hand guided you over his lap, lips not daring to detach from yours. You moved your left hand to remove the movies from his hands before moving his hand to your hips. Peter leaned back until you were both lying on the bed. You swiped your tongue on the bottom of his lip, wanting to explore his mouth. His stomach rumbled, causing him to chuckle before pushing your head back with his lips and dropping his head back on the bed. You pouted a little, eyes glazing over his red and plump lips. He didn’t move either of you, using his web shooters to grab the other ice cream from the floor. You grabbed your mini tub and the spoons, handing Peter one.

“What movie do you want to watch?” He asked, grabbing a few of the movies. He shuffled through the movies, naming each one until you picked one.

“Didn’t we watch that last weekend?”

“Well we can watch it again. The Little Mermaid never gets too old, Parker. Besides you don’t know half the songs so you can’t say anything.” You got up from the bed, putting on the movie in while Peter plugged his phone in. Peter half-sat half-jumped on the bed before outstretching his arm. You grabbed your spoon and ice cream before snuggling up to his side.

Throughout the movie you and Peter continued to silently eat your ice cream, occasionally sharing with each other. You both had eventually finished the ice creams and opted to cuddle instead. You were slightly dozing off, missing some chunks of the movie at a time.

“You still up, babe?” You heard Peter mumble, the sleep evident in his voice.

“Mhm…” You replied, turning towards him. He had taken his suit off at some point during the night, finding some sweats and a t-shirt of his (which shouldn’t of been hard because you keep some of his spare clothes in your room in case anything happens where Spider-man is needed) before coming back to bed with you. You snuggled closer to him, wrapping an arm around his torso. You looked up at him, studying his features. Your eyes traveled to the same bruise you saw on his cheek earlier in the evening. You raised your hand up to his face, your fingers gingerly tracing the edges of it, scared that even the slightest pressure might cause him pain.

“Flash.” He breathed. Your eyes focused on his. He had dark circles under his eyes, his lips set into a frown and you weren’t sure if it was from his tiredness or from the memory of Flash.

“Peter you shouldn’t let him do that to you. You can defend yourself.” His gaze dropped from yours, only nodding in response. You stretched your neck slightly, pressing a gentle kiss on the bruise that had formed. He turned his head, pressing a kiss to your lips once more. He pulled you closer, before turning his head and reaching for the nightstand, turning the light off. You closed your eyes, resting your head on his chest. You listened to his heartbeat, finding it somewhat like a lullaby. His breathing was gentle, the light rocking of the rise and fall of his chest added a nice rhythm. You yawned, planting a kiss on his chest.

“Goodnight, I love you.” You whispered.

“I love you too.”

Interruptions

Request: “peter parker smut where the reader is either the daughter of an avenger or maybe just an avenger or something but she lives in the avengers compound (let’s just say peter decided to take tony up on his offer) and she’s dating peter and he sneaks into her room and just as they’re about to start round 2 one of the avengers catches them”

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: SMUTTT

“Good job team.” Tony gave a forced smile before quickly retreating to get a drink.

You looked to Peter, who was still heaving with bloody tears in his suit. You pulled him by the arm wordlessly to your room, sitting him down while you retrieved your first aid kit. He was still a little dazed from the fight, but as you pulled out a clean needle he gave you an adorable smile.

“If you say ‘this isn’t going to hurt’ I’m going to-“

“Kill me?” You smirked. Peter huffed a laugh, leaning back as you started stitching his wounds.

“You know, I think we’re too good for each other sometimes. We can barely get out a sentence without the other knowing how it’ll end.” You shook your head with a rogue smile. “We’re becoming a gross, sappy couple. I hate it.”

Keep reading

The day after the battle, Hermione Granger got up before the sun did. The Lake was covered in fog, and she was used to having somewhere urgent to go, to be, to fight. 

She closed the tent flap up behind her. Hogwarts had something like enough beds, but Hermione hadn’t had it in her to climb those moving staircases, to step through the painting’s open frame and make her way to the Gryffindor girls’ seventh year dormitory. Her bed would have been there, months untouched except for the bras and scarves and bottles of sparkly purple nail polish Parvati and Lavender had strewn onto every open surface. 

The fog rolled in off the Lake and Hermione stood at the damp shore and shivered until the sun rose and burned it all away. 


-


The day after the battle, they buried their dead out on an island in the Lake, the day after the battle. Madame Pomfrey fretted and hovered, but every injured witch, wizard, and squib made it out to those conjured chairs. They might sit with assistance– with spells, with braces, with a friend’s shoulder– but they sat quiet and they listened to Flitwick read out the names. 


-


The day after the battle, Ron Weasley stood on tiptoe when he stepped back into the Great Hall, looking over a sea of bent heads to find a cluster of red. They’d brought the tables back. 

The cluster was only a tiny blip of three– Bill and their parents were flitting about, helping Flitwick float steaming bowls of pasta down onto each table. But Ginny and Percy were sitting on either side of George, keeping up a lively conversation about Gilderoy Lockhart’s hair. 

Ginny was sitting half in Harry’s lap, like if she didn’t he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from getting up to help, or to pace the castle, or to walk out to the Forest and not come back. She was holding his hand, her freckled thumb running over the words written into his skin. 

Ron thought about sitting with Luna, instead. Percy tried to laugh at one of Ginny’s jokes, and Ron didn’t know how to be kind like that. Ginny held Harry’s hand. Ron had thought for a long terrible stretch of heartbeats that he had lost two brothers yesterday. 

He could sit with Dean. He could walk out to the Forest and punch Aragog in his ugly eyes, because normally when he walked away from everyone he loved it was because he was scared and maybe change was good for the soul. 

Ron pushed his hands through his hair. He crossed the Great Hall, swung into a seat next to Harry, and filled his plate with lukewarm pasta. 


-


The day after the battle, Luna Lovegood climbed up to the Astronomy Tower, because it was the furthest she could get away from everything. She laid on her back on the cold stone and cast balls of light and enchanted birds to chase each other across the ceiling until she felt like descending down to the ground again. 


-


The day after the battle, Neville Longbottom went down to the greenhouses to see what the damage was there. He had sat all night and all morning in the infirmary, fetching water for Anthony Goldstein and holding Dennis Creevey’s hand and folding extra blankets down over Professor Sprout’s cold feet. Madame Pomfrey had banished him to go get a spot to eat and some sleep, so he walked down to the greenhouses to see what was salvageable. 

Whole panes of greenish glass stood jagged and shattered. Protective spells had put out any fires, but stray blasts of magic had killed beds of vegetables and flowers and taken almost all the silver-green leaves off an olive tree that twisted in the corner of Greenhouse 4. 

Neville went in through the door, even though there as a broken hole in the glass wall big enough for him, and almost fell back through it when Hannah Abbott stood up from the row of pots she’d been crouching behind. Dirt streaked every crease of her hands. “Hey,” he said, and let the door click shut behind him. 

“Hey.” When she saw where he was heading, she added, “The olive’s still alive.”

The bark was rough under his hand, gnarled from decades of slow growth. He could hear the green magic whispering down its xylem. 

“I was thinking I’d try to mend up the walls, close this place up again,” said Hannah. “But I wasn’t sure I could do it alone." 

"Alright,” said Neville. When Professor Sprout argued her way out of the infirmary and thumped downhill with the wind throwing her cloudy hair in her face, she found every pane of glass healed and Neville and Hannah asleep on the softest patch of moss in Greenhouse 2.  


-


The day after the battle, Parvati Patil sent an owl to Lavender Brown’s parents. 


-


The day after the end of it all, Hermione skipped lunch and found her favorite secluded corner of the library instead. The chairs stood silent and sober, all gouged dark wood. The high windows threw light gleaming across the polished table, catching on the dust motes drifting through the air above it. 

She dumped her carry-all down on it and reached inside– up to her elbows, her shoulders. She tried not to feel like it was eating her alive and she pulled out protein bars and unicorn horn and crumpled wanted flyers. 

She wasn’t sure when it had gotten so cluttered– sometime before the night in the ditch outside the little Scottish village with the awesome curry shop. Sometime after the time they hid out from a storm in an unknowing Muggle’s barn, wrinkling their noses at the itch of hay as they ate their dinner. Hermione had taken first watch, listening to the thunder roll over the shallow hills outside, and she’d gone through her bag pouch by endless pouch. Harry had twitched in his sleep with every flash of lightning, but everything in her bag had been where it was supposed to be. 

She summoned a wastepaper bin to hover beside her and got to work. Quills and ballpoint pens went in a neat heap to her left. Books she stacked by subject matter around her, except for the ones she flew back to their homes on Hogwarts shelves. She checked potions ingredients for decay, tossed the bad ones and wrapped the good ones back up in their oiled cloth and ziplock bags. 

She ate a protein bar while she piled duct tape and the radio and a travel-sized magnetic foldable Muggle chess set and a depleted first aid kit all up around her. She threw the wrapper away and wondered if the smell would ever come out of the bag’s insides, or if she should just buy another one.  


-


The day after the battle, they started putting the stones of the castle back into place. They put bones back together, first, skin and knit muscle and tendons. McGonagall escorted every statue and suit of armor back to where it belonged. 

Sue Li sat atop a pile of rubble and ate the biggest chocolate bar she’d ever seen her life. She thought she could still taste a film of Polyjuice on her tongue, but she told herself that was dumb. She dropped little pebbles down the ragged tumble of stones, counting their bounces and calculating averages, until Astoria Greengrass showed up with a glass of water and a pasty and put them down beside her. 

Astoria got her hands dirty every chance she got, put her back into sweeping up glass shards or hauling bandages or Wingardium Leviosa-ing stone blocks the size of a horseless carriage. She would stay in the castle as long as she could, finding odd tasks and errands and corners to lurk in. When she finally went back to the Greengrass family estate, it would be to pack her bags, kiss the old house elf on the cheek, and steal her dog away with her. 


-


The day after the battle, Ron went out to Hagrid’s cabin in the stubborn chill of the afternoon and sat in his pumpkin patch. He didn’t go knock on the rough-hewn door, and Hagrid didn’t come out, but after twenty minutes Fang trotted into the yard and patiently got slobber all over his shirt. 

Ron watched the sway of the shadows beyond the Forest’s edge. Buckbeak’s old tying post stood among the twining squash vines and their giant fuzzy leaves, the metal ring hanging empty against weathered wood. He thought about Ginny brushing her thumb over Harry’s scars and wrapped 
his hands over the pale marks that curled around his wrists. 

When the air started biting and the sky started darkening, Ron pulled himself back to his feet and climbed up to the library. He had never lived there, never really liked its labyrinth of stacks and dusty air, but he knew the way there better than he knew the way to the Quidditch pitch or the Room of Requirement or all those other places he liked so much more. 

It was empty, except for Hermione, and he was glad. She squeezed her last book into her bag and looked up at him, shoving her hair back off her forehead. 

“They doing dinner down there?” she said, her dry throat rasping on it. 

He shrugged. “Mum’s organizing, I think. It– helps, I think." 

She nodded, looking down to do the clasps up slowly, one by one. 

"I just wanted to go back to the tent,” said Ron. “Be alone. It’s quiet." 

"I won’t get in your way,” she said. “It’s still pitched down there." 

"I know,” he said. “With you, I meant.”

“That’s not alone,” she said. “I’m not quiet,” she said. She clasped and unclasped the bag. 

“Words. Accuracy. I never claimed to be the clever one." 

"But you are, Ron–" 

"Hermione,” he said. “Come with me? You shouldn’t be sitting here alone. Come home.”

They went down the grass through chilling air. Ron could hear his mother in his head, telling him to take her bag and carry it for her, but he just reached out for her hand. 


-


The day after the end of it all, Ron laid on the floor of the tent, counting stitches in the canvas, while Hermione read Hogwarts, A History like she didn’t have it memorized. She read her favorite parts aloud, stopping mid-sentence when the tent flap rustled and opened. 

“Ginny’s sitting on Neville until he agrees to sleep in a real bed and not a pile of shrubbery,” Harry said, stepping inside and shutting it up behind him. “She got Luna to help because she says otherwise Luna will just fade into a corner and not come out for food.” He hunched his shoulders. “I’m not intruding, right?" 

"Don’t be daft,” said Ron and patted a bit of floor next to him. “C'mon, join in, Hermione’s trying to bore me to sleep. I suspect it’s an act of caring concern.” Hermione threw a pillow at his head without looking up from the pages.  

The day after the battle, they fell asleep in a tangle in the center of the tent that they had lugged across their country, across these long, cold days of the war. They had danced here to the radio, had chewed protein bars, played chess and bled and yelled at each other. 

But the war was over and they were growing into it, slow, staying up too late as they leaned into each other and whispered on this threadbare rug. They meant to wobble to their feet and get to bed, but Harry was clinging to Hermione’s hand and none of them wanted to go. 

They would get too old for this– hard floors and the way Harry’s neck was cricked up on Ron’s bony shoulder. Hermione’s snoring would get worse and Ron would have to sleep with four carefully arranged pillows to stop his back from aching in the mornings, but Harry would always have a place here. He had slept on Ron’s bedroom floor at fourteen, leaned on Hermione outside his parents’ broken home. 

In the weeks after the battle, Hermione would track down her parents and move back home, and they would all help the Weasleys rebuild the Burrow. Harry would move in Andromeda Tonks’s spare room. “We’re almost like family, after all,” she’d say briskly, shooing him into the house and showing him where she kept the tea, Teddy’s diapers, and the whiskey. They’d come for visits and talk through the night in each of those homes, curled up under Molly’s quilts or out on the Granger’s back porch swing or over fingers of firewhiskey with Andromeda. 

In the months after the war, he and Ron would get a flat while they went through Auror training and Hermione would crash there five nights out of seven. Her university textbooks would take over their countertops, shelves, tables, and floor and Harry wouldn’t tease them (too much) for how hilariously long they tried to pretend it was the couch Hermione slept on. 

Every home Ron and Hermione lived in, for the rest of their lives, would have a place for Harry– a spare room or a patch of floor or an old sofa. He would know how Hermione took her coffee, and his favorite cereal and Ginny’s favorite oatmeal would always been in the cupboard, and their children would have giggly cousin-sleepovers in magical tents they pitched on the living room rug. 

When the kids came shrieking in to wake them at absolutely unacceptable, ugly hours, Ginny would groan curse words they’d repeat gleefully among themselves, but Harry would let them grab his hands in their little sticky ones and pull him barefoot and messy-haired out into the morning.

Our Pet Monster

TW: Mentions of Pedophilia

When we moved to Pine Drive, I never expected to find a conspiracy among the kids there.

I was an only child and a loner, thanks to my parents always moving. My dad’s job had him hopping from state to state. It was a pretty tough going if you wanted to make friends. But he promised that we’d stay at least six months here, so I had a chance to make at least one friend.

And whadya know, on my block, there were a ton of kids to make friends with.

I didn’t even really have to try. Two days after moving in, the Langley twins Diana and David were pounding on my door, asking who owned that bike parked in the front yard and if they wanted to play. I was shy but the twins were ecstatic to meet me.

Apparently their group had an odd number before I moved in and they needed equal teams to play their games with.

There was Alicia, who was six, she was the baby but she was very sweet. The oldest was Fletcher who was thirteen but his social skills were a bit behind so he didn’t mind hanging out with a bunch of nine and ten year olds. I think there was about ten of us all in all.

But I learned soon enough that there was a secret each of them shared.

Keep reading

Send To All - Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Prompt: There’s this comedian called Michael Mcintyre who has a chat show and sometimes plays this game called “send to all” where he takes the guests phone and sends a mass text out then reads the replies out. It’s on you tube and hilarious but anyway i was wondering if you could do something where the reader is an actress on the show and agrees to play and he sends out a flirty text or something like that and she gets a few funny replies from Evans, Fassbender, Macavoy, Cumberbatch and TOM HIDDLESTON
Note: Okay so I went a bit mad with this one and did make a few adjustments, however 99% of it is what was asked for. This one is for the lovely @dohegotthesuperbooty - I’m sorry it took so long (I’m really behind!!) - for anyone who is interested, the video behind this idea can be found here.

Originally posted by letlovebyourenergy


You were stood at the side of the stage awaiting your cue; it was your turn to appear on several British chat shows to promote your new film. You were staring in a new rom-com opposite Tom Hiddleston; the two of you had become very close over the last course of shooting the film, a fact that had purposely been left out of the media.

The show you were appearing on was that of comedian Michael McIntyre. All you could think about was his infamous game of ‘Send to All’. The producers had prepared you for the game; however it was up to the host as to whether or not you would be playing.

From centre stage, you heard Michael call your name. You began to walk over, the crowd went wild. Walking over to your seat, you waved to the audience. Once you reached the spot where Michael was stood, he gave you a friendly hug and welcomed you to the show. The two of you took your seats. Once the crowd had quietened down, he welcomed you to the show once again.
“So, welcome to the show!” He smiled.
“Thank you!” You said with a smile, “Thanks for having me, I’m a big fan of the show but I never thought I’d be sat here!” You exclaimed.

The interview was going extremely well, you were laughing and joking with both the audience and the host. Then he said those words you really didn’t want to hear.
“So we have a bit of a tradition on this show.” Michael began to laugh; everyone knew what he was going to say. “I like to play a lovely little game called ‘Send to All’ with my guests, are you up for a go?”
You started to think, what options did you have? If you were to say no… well, you’d only be forced to play to prove you had nothing to hide.
“Sure!” You said, a little too enthusiastically.
“Excellent!” Michael matched your tone. “The rules are simple, I’m going to come up with a message to send to all of the contacts in your phone and we’re going to leave it over the course of the show and then see who replies!”
“Great, can you just not send it to my mum” you laughed, as did everyone else in the studio.

“Okay, I think I’ve come up with the perfect message” Michael grinned.
“Oh no” you joked as you handed over your phone.
“Here goes…” Michael typed each word as he said it. “Hey, it… feels… like we haven’t seen… each other… in such a long time…” Michael stopped typing and looked over to you, he was giggling at the message he was typing. You on the other hand were using your laughter to disguise how red your face had become. “Why don’t we…” he continued to type “meet up… for a drink… or two?” Michael turned to you once again, “Do you use emoticons?” he asked.
“Probably too much” you responded.
“Excellent, how about little kisses?” he asked.
“Yeah, I guess, just one though. And always lowercase!” you added.
“In that case, I’ll add a little winking face and a kiss!” He looked up and addressed the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have our text message!” The audience cheered. “Okay, here’s the message…” he paused and cleared his throat, “Hey, it feels like we haven’t seen each other in such a long time. Why don’t we meet up for a drink or two [question mark] [winking face] [kiss]” he laughed, as did the audience. You began to laugh but at the same time you were slowly bringing your hands up to your face to once again, cover up how red it was. “What do you think, shall we send to all?!” He asked the audience. They went wild. “It’s gone, sent!” Michael turned back around and walked to his seat to continue your interview.

You spent the rest of the interview trying not to think about the messages currently coming through to your phone. You had just about removed the thought from your mind when Michael said “Right, well there’s just one last piece of business we need to discuss before I let you go.” He paused while the audience reacted. “Let’s read out some of the replies to the text we sent from your phone shall we? Okay so the message we sent read ‘Hey, it feels like we haven’t seen each other in such a long time. Why don’t we meet up for a drink or two [question mark] [winking face] [kiss]’. Wow, okay so you’ve got a fair few replies here!” The audience cheered.
“Better than getting none I suppose” you joked.
“Right, first up we have Chris Evans ladies and gentlemen! Wait, is this Captain America Chris Evans or BBC Radio DJ Chris Evans?” he asked you.
“I don’t think I should answer that until you’ve read the reply,” you laughed “no it’s Captain America Chris Evans” you smiled.
“Well Chris replied with ‘Dude, we aren’t even in the same country right now! Count me in for next time though, we’ll all go out’ how nice is that! But what does he mean by ‘all’?
“Yeah, he’s a good egg!” you smiled, “I’m guessing he just means getting the old gang back together”
“Okay next up is… it looks like you’ve got the number of everyone who’s ever been in a Marvel film here!” the two of you laughed as he continued to look for the next reply. “I think we will go for this one next, James McAvoy.”
“Oh no!” you exclaimed as you brought your hands to your face, “This is going to be a bad one isn’t it!”  
“That depends what it means! It says ‘Are ye sure pal? You know what happened last time!’ then there’s one of those laughing and crying faces. What happened last time?” He questioned you.
You tried to contain the laughter, “nothing, nothing happened last time – at least nothing that you’re all probably thinking anyway! All that happened was a few of us had gone out and had far too much to drink, we all got a taxi and when it was my stop James helped me out of the taxi and then after insisting I was fine… I fell up the steps.” The audience and Michael laughed at your story, you chuckled, after all it had been quite funny.

“Wonderful, we have time for just a few more! Who’s next? ‘Benny C’ is that who I think it is?” you nodded in response. “We have to read this one! It says ‘Sorry not tonight, I’ve got my hands full. However you can both count me in next time!’ At least he’s up for the next time, but what does he mean by both?” he questioned you.
“Well a fair few people know I’m here tonight, he probably just knows it was you” you smiled.
“Hmm,” Michael looked as you quizzically.
“He is Sherlock Holmes after all,” you added “all that detective knowledge has to have rubbed off”
Michael agreed with you and moved on, “Okay, this is the last one now, let’s go for the man himself, your co-star Mr Tom Hiddleston ladies and gentlemen!” The audience cheered, some more excited than others as you heard several women let out high pitched screams.
Your face turned the brightest shade of red possible; you could only hope that he hadn’t said anything that would give the two of you away.
“Let’s see what he has to say shall we,” Michael cleared his throat, “’Darling, we spent six months together making a film and I’ve seen you every night since we got home. Shall I come and pick you up? x T’” Michael took a moment for everyone to process the message he had just read. “Well, well, well! It looks like you were hiding something after all. Anything you want to say?” He asked.
“No, not really” you responded, you could feel yourself getting warmer. You were debating whether or not to address it, although Tom had practically already made that decision for you and left you without a choice. In the end, you decided it was best to talk. “When you shoot a romantic film you spend a lot of time with your co-star and about sixty percent of that time you’re in quite an intimate position.” The redness was starting to disappear from your face, replaced only by a smile that suggested you were happily in love.

“Well ladies and gentlemen, it looks like the show is ending on a lovely note! Thank you to all of tonight’s guests and I’ll see you next week!”

a cog in the machine pt. 3

pairing: Yoongi x reader x Jimin

genre:  robot!jimin, assassin!au, mafia!au, angst, smut

word count: 7,032

warnings: death mention, implied drug use, just heavy themes in general

a/n: as always, i will go back and edit later! 

Originally posted by the-rap-man

a cog in the machine:  a small or insignificant member of a larger organization or system 

part 1 part 2

You stare at the empty suitcase on your bed can’t help but feel like you were stuck in the middle of some twisted nightmare and not your real life. Your eyes glance over to the passport sitting on top of your dresser, a plane ticket shoved in between the worn pages. It had been several years since you joined the Organization and you have collected many stamps in your passport, but you never got used to this feeling.

The night before you left for an assignment was always one of restless nights and having to go to the bathroom every five minutes because of your nerves. Tonight was the same, but it was also different. You remembered the first time you went to Venice, how foolishly excited you were about going to one of the world’s most beautiful cities. Hyunsik teased you about the travel book you had found in the library that was dog eared with all of the places you wanted to visit. All the places the three of you wanted to see together. All the things you wanted to do.

But you never imagined that bringing one of them home in a body bag would be added to the top.

The news of your assignment spread like wildfire as sources of entertainment around the compound were scarce these day, especially after the shine of Jimin’s arrival had worn off. It could have been paranoia, but you were sure that they were all making bets to see how long you would last. How long it would take for you to finally snap.

“Go away!” you shouted as someone knocked on your closed bedroom door.

“Don’t be like this,” Yoongi hisses from across the locked barricade.

Keep reading

It’s not that the question has been bugging him, per se.

It’s more like…. more like…

Well it’s more like the question had been driving him up the fucking wall. And it’s not like it matters- at all. But Isak should know things about Even and Even should knows things about Isak. They should know each other. Because Isak is like 99.78% sure that Even and Isak are a forever thing.

So.

“Can I ask you a question?” Isak is sitting on the counter of their kitchen as Even meticulously scrambles eggs and tosses toast in the oven.

Even hums, throwing pinches of salt in the pan as the eggs started to form, “Yeah, ‘course.”

“Am I like…” Isak thinks of how to phrase it because he’s come to learn that shit doesn’t always come out of his mouth in the most elegant of fashion. He struggles for a hot second, before remembering that this is Even- who knows his lack of censor, “So like am I your first guy?”

Even throws pepper into the egg mixture.

Isak shifts uneasily, “Even?”

He takes the eggs off the heat and dumps them on to a plate. When there was no more to do, Even moved to stand in between Isak’s legs, “What brought this on?”

“Just curious.” Isak leans forward to brush bits of hair away from Even’s face, “It’s not like it’s super important… I was only wondering.”

Even stares at him for a minutes. probably debating his answer or whatever, “There was one other boy I was interested in. Before I met you. It didn’t end well. Or- like, it never really began? He didn’t…”

#relatable, Isak thinks, and then “Gotcha.”

“I’m glad it didn’t.” Even smiles, backing away from Isak and grabbing the plate of eggs, “Because now I have you and I wouldn’t give you up for anyone.”

Aww.

“What about you? Even continues, setting the table, “I was the first boy you were interested in, right?”

Record Scratch. 

“Umm,” Fuck his pitch is a little too high to be normal, “Well…”

Even glances back at him with raised eyebrows, “Wait really? I wasn’t?”

“I mean…” 

“Huh,” Even slides a hand through his hair, like he can’t decide on being amused or put out, “Do I know him?”

“Well….”

Even narrows his eyes, “Who?”

“Jo…nas?” Isak looked around, “Maybe.”

“Jonas?” Even blinked, “Like Jonas, Jonas? Oh fuck me.”

“I’d love to,” Isak said brightly, turning around and heading for the hallway, “We just gotta-”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Even’s arms come around Isak’s waist, “Jonas Noah Vasquez, huh? Curly haired bastard.”

Isak snorts, “You adore Jonas.”

“Yeah,” Even sniffs into his hair, “He is pretty cool.”

Isak tries to hide a smile, “…and hot… very hot.”

The arms tighten and before he knows it, Even is marching him to bed, “I’ll show you very hot.”

He did.

anonymous asked:

sooo i don't really have a question but i would like an analysis of the new amazingphil video if you have one,, or just your favorite moments, idk i just want you to talk about it, i love your "reviews"

hahaha of course i’ll talk about it!!!!! it’s interesting bc when i first watched this i was actually like not that into it??? it just felt like 10 very calm and chill mins of dnp hanging out which is obviously great but i think i was sort of distracted so i was like mmmm it wasn’t as entertaining as their usual collabs, esp bc on first watch i was like, dan keeps going for these weird dark jokes about torture n maiming and it’s all v Standard Fare but then i thought about it more and realized ,, if this isn’t the biggest evidence yet about how far they’ve come and evolved since last year then idk what is??? like i just can’t believe it’s gotten to the point where i could watch 10 minutes of dan softly playing around with phil’s hair and both of them being a bit calmer and more muted in front of the camera, freely touching each other and joking around about more Mature Themes (hats off to the dildo joke and the “safety word” bit) and have all of that feel completely STANDARD and unsurprising!!! it’s just crazy to me that they’ve normalized these behaviors so much that a video like this could feel so completely expected and ~chill~ 

but then i watched it a second and third time (bc duh) when i was less distracted and there really were so many little moments that stood out to me and so many cute smiles and soft lil jokes that made me wanna melt and it was all just so good. it’s nowhere near their funniest or most captivating video but it’s just vv vv v v soft and chill and natural. when comparing it to something like pastel edits which is probs a close parallel in terms of them playing dress up and touching each other a bit in direct response to a fan request, you can see how this one is far softer and a little bit less performed–they seem less ‘on’ for lack of a better term, and a lot more laid back, dan doesn’t spend as much time demeaning the idea or teasing the fan base for wanting it, and all of it is just so enjoyable to watch. i’ve included (way too many) timestamps below (plus way too many screenshots, as usual, of stupidly cute moments ugh): 

  • 5 seconds in this is already alarmingly cute w dan grumbling behind the pillow that phil wants to give him a creative nickname and phil giggling and looking down at him when he starts complaining
  • :17 dan gives phil permission to just call him dan and phil looks cute n happy about it
  • :27 dan needs to reiterate he was a nerd in school
  • :34 ‘japes’ k dan
  • :48 i live for the way phil looks so earnest and excited when he asks dan why he decided to ‘embrace the curls’ like he genuinely wants to hear dan explain this .. phil is genuinely obsessed w dan’s curls he wasn’t lyin when he said that in the pastel edits vid :(
  • 1:00 i hope phil was the one who chose that photo as an example of dan’s hair looking good in a pic,, phil thinks dan’s best look is his crunchy 2013 leather jacket n his scoop neck t shirt … #confirmed
  • 1:10 ‘you’ve left me alone!’ calm down phil he’s right next to u
  • 1:12 did phil pick that photo too ..  the one of dan in his tank top n hair straightened to within an inch of its life and silvery earrings making a pouty face ,,, lmao i love that he’s picking the cringiest emo-est throwbacks possible
  • 1:54 phil’s like ‘i thought we could eat 400 crusts to see if my hair goes curly’ and it’s altogether a lame joke but dan is staring at him like he’s the most beautiful person on earth. i’d be uncomfortable if i wasn’t so busy melting. then phil stares at dan giggling and it’s all a bit much for me
  • 2:41 ‘what’d happen if i balded you right now?’ dan is so concerned for phil’s well-being that he forgets how to grammar
  • 2:45 the fuckin dildo joke i s2g why are they making sly references to dildos in a g-rated hair curling video why did phil immediately follow dan saying ‘that looks like something else’ by going ‘ooo’ and shoving the curler near dan’s mouth why are they gross
  • 3:21 dan unnecessarily rubbing the curler all over phil’s shoulder and neck … ok
  • 3:41 phil sounds so serious when he asks dan if he thinks the curly hair will suit him, like he really needs dan’s Hot Take on this important issue but dan’s just shuts him down hahaha. i feel like this is reminiscent of the faceapp vid in which dan was completely NOT DOWN with any alteration to phil’s appearance whatsoever bc (vom) he thinks phil is perf jst the way he is (i might actually be sick) 
  • 3:47 idk why but i’m obsessed w phil saying ‘dan, don’t mess about with it’ and dan responding ‘i’m nOT’ in his whiny voice w his eyes all wide. cute
  • 3:56 lmao dan bringing up babuse (i can’t type that without thinking of ‘let me see that babussy’ i hate the fucking internet) and saying it was the last time he was on this bed, i am living for these bants and also phil’s expression of mock horror
  • 4:08 ‘curl me up, bess’
  • 4:11 dan’s going for ‘teen nick jonas but without the face’ his crush is going strong i see,, and then he can’t even follow through and tell phil his face doesn’t compare to nick jonas’s so he turns it into a joke about burning his face instead, nice save bro
  • 4:27 THIS KILLED ME THEYRE JST TALKING N DAN JUST BRUSHES ASIDE A BIT OF PHILS FRINGE FOR NO REASON AT ALL HE JST WANTS TO PLAY W HIS HAIR ITS CUTE N IM DYIN
  • 5:01 something about this bit when dan’s like ‘got a whole clump it’s undignified’ and their proximity, the way their arms are sort of pressed together and it looks like dan could be resting his hand on phil’s leg and dan is also sort of just looking down at phil ,,, Good
  • 5:08 when phil kinda squeaks and pulls away all of a sudden i feel like dan is legit actually concerned he could burn phil as evidenced by his voice going all high pitched when he’s like ‘you can’t do that!!!!’
  • 5:13 more completely unnecessary dan playing around w phil’s fringe n brushing it away. it goes on for like 8 seconds plus there’s a jump cut in the middle of it lmao,,, ugh the way he touches phil’s hair is so soft it makes me feel things
  • 5:32 ‘gonna pork you up phil’ does dan know the meaning of ‘pork’ as a verb ??  ? ? ??? ??????  for reference:
  • 5:36 ‘my life is flashing before my eyes’ ‘ooo is it really boring’ dan is showing yet again that he flirts like a five year old who pulls their crush’s pigtails in the playground grOW UP MATE. phil loves it tho
  • 6:03 omg idk why but i LOVED phil saying ‘i’m finding you so disturbing right now’ it feels so authentic??? something about the way he phrased it is so funny??????? like he genuinely needs dan to take it down a notch w the grim humor lmao
  • 6:47 ‘we need a safety word’ oh my god these boring vanilla fucks call a safe word a ‘safety word’ could they be LAMER hahaha (in all seriousness i can’t even believe that’s a joke dan went for at all let alone on this channel and that phil just chuckled n went along with it what the fuck what a time we live in honestly,, the flirting and touching and the whole premise of a dan-curls-phil’s-hair video is already so much but, like, let’s just add a fucking allusion to bdsm into the mix while we’re at it!!!!!!! wtf!!!)
  • the whole sped up montage of dan doing the curling is just rife w gratuitous hair touching so like obvi i immediately turned the speed down to .5 and just sat back to enjoy it (also @kay-okays uploaded a slowed down version here if ya wanna look at that or like bookmark it for ur own uses ,,  whatever ur into m8)
  • 7:18 those two gentle pats that dan gives to the back of phil’s head before phil looks at his finished hair … so fucking adorable bc it’s the way dan pats down his own hair when he’s fixing it pls save me
  • 7:29 dan obvi needs to make it a point to emphasize they have the same hair again as has been his constant refrain about their haircuts for the last like 3 years (tbh i’m convinced that he literally misses having the same hair as phil which is gross and just as sappy as i’d expect from him) and in order to demonstrate how ALIKE they are again he proceeds to mirror phil playing w his fringe bc why not .. 
  • ‘this was the only thing that was separating us’ PLS
  • 7:38 dan’s Hot Take 2.0: ‘you look like a cool australian surfer … like a weird goth one that has never been to the beach’
  • 8:14 dan asserts on phil’s behalf that phil ‘needs’ the edge of his emo fringe and phil immediately agrees. rip to anyone who was hoping quiff!phil might be on the horizon
  • 8:39 dan goes defensive about how he could’ve done a better job and phil immediately jumps in to say that he thinks dan did well in the most sincere voice of all time, accompanied w cute/soft smile
  • and then he cuts dan off entirely to remind him that he didn’t burn phil’s face off and to v fervently thank him (he litro NODS while he thanks him it’s so SERIOUS) and then dan does some weird touchy thing to phil’s chest or arm or both and phil decides to boop dan’s cheek and you should really SLOW IT DOWN bc when you do, you notice it’s more of like a lil squeeze as opposed to just a v light tap and it’s gROSS:
  • 8:59 then, since this video has far too much dan gratuitously touching phil and phil was surely feeling deprived, phil reaches over to give dan a ‘zayn curl’ and play w dan’s fringe a bit n at this point i’ve had Enough of this cute ass shit
  • 9:20 dan couldn’t just leave it there, he needs to take a moment to re-assert the ~dnp don’t go outside or go to parties or talk to people Ever~ branding just in case ANYONE forgot (but also seems like a low key way for dan to gently remind the audience not to get attached to this in any way bc it will probs never happen again)
  • 9:40 phil dubs dan the “original curly man” n idk how to feel about this but i suppose that is a fitting conclusion to this absolute roller coaster of emotions 

ugh. just a really great video. i’m sorry this post is massive,, there’s jst so much here and i needed to have pics of ALL OF IT

(dan curls my hair!

Boy’s Night: ReggiexReader! Mini Fic Part 1

hey guys! here’s another reggie oneshot :) feedback in my ask would be appreciated! edit: i decided to make this into a mini fic so if you want a part 3 with smut, lemme know!

Summary: Drunk Reggie texts when he’s at the bar with the bulldogs!

Warnings: Swearing. Mentions of alcohol.

PART TWO HERE.

Originally posted by nooowestayandgetcaught

Keep reading

707mmgirl  asked:

I was wondering if you could do a NSfw where the rfa+v and saeran are having sex with mc for thw first time and they orgasm too fast and are afraid that they'd disappoint MC?

(  ˵¯͒⌄¯͒˵;;) I couldn’t sleep so I really…Really…Wanted to write this. Thought about it all day.


Yoosung

- He was losing it mentally. His hands were sweaty, his chest was beating

- He wasn’t going to lie, he had jerked off quite a bit before…Especially when LOLOL introduced that new female skin….

- But never much more than that! God, he was too scared to even get a sex toy- Too scared and embarrassed to even entertain the thought!

- He tried asking Zen for tips, even resorted to asking Seven. But Seven laughed and Zen said to look up some porn videos to get an idea because he was too busy to help

- (Or was he just sour MC didn’t fall for him?)

- When you came out of the bathroom in your pjs, he was already trying not to get a stiffy. I mean, what you were wearing wasn’t horrible, wasn’t perverted, but…You weren’t wearing a bra. Even he could tell that

- And the fact that tonight would be the first time you shared a bed together…

- “Yoosung?”

- “Y-Yes??”

_ “…Are you going to come lay down? It’s cold without you~”

- This was it, he was going to die. Someone get his will from that coffee fiasco out, he was going to need it after tonight.

- Carefully, he climbed into bed behind you, opting to try and be the big spoon and hold you tight.

-…Too tight, too tight! Your ass was rubbing against his groin so nicely. He ended up burying his face in your hair, desperate just to pretend he didn’t feel it.

- “Yoosung, are you alright?”

- “Yeah, yeah- I, uhm. I am.”

- “So you’re not hard-”

- “Don’t say it!!”

- Oh my god, this is it. You were going to make fun of him endlessly, just like the guys would when they found out. 

- You turned around to face his red face, and right when he thought it wasn’t going to get again worse, you slipped your hands around and squeezed his ass, pulling his hips flush against yours

- He. Couldn’t. Breathe.

- He felt you start kissing his neck, grinding against him, and he could only whimper in response. This isn’t how he thought it was going to happen- I mean, he was supposed to take the lead, right?? Right??

- But you slipped your hand in his sweat pants, letting out a lustful groan as you found he wasn’t wearing underwear, and he lost it

- You pulled your hand back and looked at the cum on your fingers, before looking him right in the eye and licking your hand clean

- Were you trying to kill him???

- “MC I’m sosososorry, oh my god-”

- “That’s okay, Yoosung,” You grabbed his hand, guiding it under your underwear, “Why don’t you show me what those gaming fingers can do?”

- God, please someone print out that will. He really was going to need it after tonight.

Jaehee

- So she wasn’t as innocent as everyone thought she was

-…But she was still blushing like crazy

- A cuddling session gushing over a dirty story you found online had turned sexual very quickly. Mainly due to your wandering hand, but…

- Now she was under you, one hand halfway covering her face, and the other gripped your arm as your teased her clit

- Every time she let out a squirming moan, her chest heaved and you swore you were in heaven

- You didn’t waste much time with foreplay. The two of you hadn’t really gone this far before, and this poor woman needed some excitement in her life that didn’t end in cat hair everywhere

- You couldn’t take it anymore, you slowly licked her nipple, then clamped your teeth over it, loving her surprised moan.

- “M-Mc!”

- You gave her nipple a harsh suck, your fingers trailing down from her clit to her entrance, slipping in two fingers already.

- You walls clamped down, her nails digging into your forearm already. She was sweating, chest heaving, but you knew all the right spots to hit.

- As your mouth bit on her neck, her moans kept getting higher and higher in pitch, until her nails dug in so harshly that you knew you were going to need a few bandages later.

- You felt her hips jerk up a few times, her whimpering when you kept trying to fuck her with your fingers, so you slowly pulled out.

- “Did you cum already?”

- She let out a groan, covering her face. “Yes, I’m sorry. It’s been a while.”

- You just laughed, kissing her forehead. 

- “I mean… I could be my turn, if you really loved meee~”

- She rolled her eyes but laughed, motioning for you to switch spots with her.

Seven

- The two of you were resting on the couch, just cuddling, until his fingers liiightly brushed against your sides, and you made the mistake of giggling

- Now it was On

- First thing about being friends with Seven: Never, ever, let him find out where you’re ticklish.

- He had you squealing and threatening him at the same time, squirming in between his legs as he laughed at you.

- Pretty soon you started fighting back- Turning around and desperate to find his ticklish spots. 

- But, after a while of squirming in eachother’s arms, he accidentally let out a moan that was not painful

- You stopped, and the both of you blushed… But, you just placed a questioning kiss on his lips.

- “R-really? Right here?”

- You nodded, already moving to start palming him through his pants, and he automatically started working on pulling off your shirt

- He groaned as you unzipped his pants, palming him through his boxers. He tried returning the favor, squeezing your breasts through your bra.

- But you slipped to the floor and got on your knees? What where you- Oh my god you were going to blow him

-Oh…My god.

- He watched with a growing blush as you tugged on his pants to be able to pull his hardening cock out easier. He watched your eyes widen just a bit when you pulled it out, him mentally fist pumping that he was a good enough size for you

- He wanted to lean back- Play it cool and just enjoy it, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You brushing your hair behind your ear, getting a decent grip on his cock, your half-lidded eyes studying the head. He could feel the pre-cum leaking out already, and he prayed you thought that was normal.

- You gave his cock a few tentative pumps, him trying his fucking best not to jerk his hips up, and then suddenly you took the tip in your mouth.

- He couldn’t hold it back, he ended up letting a low whimper out, his fingers itching to tangle themselves in your hair, but god he managed to keep them away.

- You bobbed your head a bit, removing the cock from your mouth with an obscene ‘pop’, looking him right in the eyes as you licked up the underside of his cock

- …And he came all over your face

- It was slightly, just a bit, adorable at how you winced, but he felt his soul leave his damn body. Damnit, he knew he should have jerked off last night when he had the chance.

- “Oh my god, Mc I’m so–” 

- You wiped a bit off your cheek, slipping your finger in your mouth and letting out a hum. “You taste a bit bitter…”

- Instantly he pulled you up on the couch, sucking and nipping at your neck as you moaned a bit.

- He really, really, needed to know how you tasted as well. And, well….Hopefully that would make up for him being such a quick shot.

Jumin

- The marriage had been sweet, and ended with lots of cuddling on a plane as the two of you went to enjoy your honeymoon, something Jumin was very insistent on.

- As soon as the two of you landed, it was getting changed into something more appropriate, going off and enjoying the sites, having a nice romantic dinner

- And now the two of you finally made it to the place you were staying at for the next week. With just one bed in the room.

- He didn’t want to admit he felt nervous- What if he harmed you? What if he did so many things you didn’t enjoy? Expert Playboy only told him so much, and he wasn’t too keen on watching porn. Especially if Seven had his hands in the RFA’s search history.

- The two of you dressed in your sleepwear, then he coaxed you over to lay with him.

- Getting to finally hold you in his arms like this was amazing. He felt his chest swell every time you snuggled closer to him.

- “Mc?”

- “Yes, honey?”

- He gave your forehead a kiss at the nickname, his cheeks lightly blushing. “From my research, we’re not completely done for the day yet, are we?”

- Your face went red, but he started with gentle kisses to your lips, moving to your jaw, then to your neck, his fingers dancing around the hem of your shirt.

- Your breath hitched a couple of times, but you started working on unbuttoning his shirt, groaning when his hands started groping your breasts

- God, this felt amazing so far, from just barely doing the minimum. He focused on recalling all the tips in the magazine, some of the grosser things some board members had talked about drunk- Just anything he could apply to please you

- It wasn’t long before you were fully on your back, breasts heaving as he teased your clit, his boxers the only clothing left on him

- The way your cheeks flushed looking at his cock straining against his boxers made him want to take you instantly, but he needed to be patient, he needed to hold out a bit longer.

- But you gently squeezed his forearm, mewling a bit as he kept trying to rub your clit

- “Ju-Jumin, please, I want to feel your cock- I’m ready, just please.”

- He felt his eyes widen, but quickly cleared his throat and nodded, pulling his boxers off

- He teased you a bit more, the head of his cock barely entering you and pulling back out, making you let out the cutest whines. But finally, when he couldn’t even stand it anymore, he pushed himself fully inside of you, groaning along with you

- He stayed still for a moment, feeling how amazing it was to have you squeezing him so tightly. He tried to move, just one pump, but it was too much.

- As soon as he realized what had happened, his face was completely red, and he felt so ashamed when you let out a little questioning noise.

- “It…It seems that I’ve…” He trailed off, suddenly pissed at himself for cumming so damn early. You didn’t even get to enjoy anything.

- But you just squeezed his hand, placing a kiss on his cheek.

- “If you want…You could just use your fingers for tonight, tomorrow we could try-”

- “No, we’re doing this right tonight. I told you I would keep you up all nigh- I’m not going back on that now.”

- While he did finally get rid of his shame at how much you squirmed from his fingers alone, he promised himself that he was going to make you cum twice as much from his cock alone.

- (What the fuck did those magazines say about this situation???)

Zen

- You had been trying for ages to get him to have sex with you. 

- Inviting him in the shower? ‘Accidentally’ letting him walk in on you? Snuggling super close during a romance scene? All of them failed.

- And god, did he hate it.

- He wanted to fuck you, have you screaming his name so loud he was sure to get noise complaints- But was he ready??

- It had been a very, very, long time since he had, ahem, let the beast out. The last time was…Way too long ago.

- But all the teasing, and bluntness without saying anything, was starting to get to him. Starting to have his hand wandering when you weren’t there with him, and a few times when you were.

- Tonight was a bit better. You weren’t trying to throw more ‘hints’ his way, you were just snuggled up to him resting your head on his chest, tracing an imaginary circle on his ribs

- Yeah, he could handle this!

- But your fingers stopped, and you started to play with his hair a bit instead, making cute little noises as you shifted to look up at him

- “Your princess wants some kisses.”

- Oh no. He felt his cock twitch, but he tried his best to ignore it as he tipped your chin up, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

- “I can’t help but do as my princess wants~”

- But you pulled him back towards you, planting a few soft kisses, and then slowly making them more and more greedy.  You even slipped your tongue in, and when he groaned out he knew he was done for.

- He wanted to avoid sex at the moment, but tonight he didn’t have enough willpower.

- He grabbed your shoulders, pushing you to lay on your back as he slipped between your legs, leaning over to start sucking on your neck.

- You didn’t waste a second, especially since you had been trying to get to this point for ages. You wrapped your legs around his waist, grinning when he grinded against you with a low growl

- “You’ve been such a tease, princess, I can’t take it anymore.”

- As he pushed your shirt up, working on your breasts, he was frantically trying to recall all the moves he used to do back when he was in that gang.

- (God, it really had been forever!)

- Your hands fumbled with his shorts, yanking them down and giving his ass a firm squeeze, loving as he bit your neck in response.

- You were going to kill him. He wanted the first time to be sweet, romantic, but he couldn’t even control his thoughts right now. He just kept imagining how tight you would feel, how you would squeeze down on him-

- You reached and grasped his cock, starting a teasing pace as he leaked pre-cum already.

- Ah, fuck, fuck, he couldn’t take this. He ended up moaning into your shoulder as he jerked his hips in time with your pumps. One, two times, and he came.

- Kill. Him.

- He didn’t want to face you, he just closed his eyes tight as you pulled your hand away.

- “Zenny~ No fair, let me have fun too.”

- He took a deep breath and looked at you nervously- Only to be greeted with a firm kiss. You pushed his shoulder a bit, wriggling your hips.

- “Why don’t you put that mouth to better use~?”

- He looked a bit dumbfounded for a moment, but quickly slid back a bit, working on getting your pjs off.

- I mean… at least he had an impressive recovering speed? Hopefully luck would be on his side and let him recover fast enough to fuck you like he had been wanting.

V

- It…Had been a very long time. A long time since he was fully willing to have sex, at least.

- When the innocent cuddling on his bed got more perverse- Your hand slipping under his shirt and teasingly running your fingers so close to the waistband of his pants- Well… He did want it, it had just been ages

- He tried his best not to show it. Each feather-light touch he returned, every little breath you let out he had to stop himself from groaning

- He hadn’t realised how badly he wanted this from you

- Once the cute kisses died down, turning into panting breaths and low moans, you rolled yourself on top of him, straddling him and purposefully refusing to grind against him

- Were you trying to kill him? He needed this- He needed you

- His hands found your hips, holding you as he bucked his hips up with a barely contained groan. It had been too long, way too long, since he had felt so good from just teasing

- “Mc-”

- You leaned over, starting another string of greedy kisses, taking his will to talk and interrupt you away

- It didn’t take long for his hands to act on their own- Slipping under your shirt to grope, pushing your ass down so he could grind against you fully

- When you broke the kiss and let out such a sinful moan, he couldn’t do it anymore.

- “Mc, please- Now, now, please.”

- He felt your breath against his neck as you giggled, wiggling out of your underwear and pulling down his pants

- You took his cock and slid the head against your clit, making him bite down hard on his lip

- “Oh, god, Mc-” You were horrible but so fucking amazing. He wanted to thrust his hips up, slam into you with all he had-

- You let out a little mewl of pleasure as the head of his cock rubbed your clit just right, and suddenly you felt a hot spurt against you.

- He covered his face quickly, panting but letting out a sound of utter disappointment. 

- “It’s been ages, I just-”

- “Shh,” You leaned over, kissing his forehead. “ It’s fine.”

- But it wasn’t, was it? Your cheeks were still flushed, you were soaked but he knew you hadn’t came yet.

-… Was it too early to suggest…?

- “M-Mc, ride me.”

- “…What?”

- God, don’t make him say it again. He carefully squeezed his cock, feeling how sensitive it was, but he didn’t care. He wanted you anyway.

- He rubbed the head of his dick against your clit, then finally trailed it to your entrance, pushing the tip in and joining you in your moan

- “Jihyun-”

- He jerked his hips up, pushing into you fully, and the sound you made had him dig his nails into your thighs.

- “Ride. Me. I can take it.”

- He came early, but he was going to be damned if you weren’t going to be able to feel his cock slam in you tonight.

Saeran

- He had experience with women. Not exactly loving ones, but quick and hard fucks in the backs of bars or in hotels was what he was used to the most.

- And usually they all went well, except if the women tried being too clingy with him.

- He wasn’t expecting you to last so fucking long though

- The two of you were just cuddling on his bed, something he was always insistent on. But you were trying to find some funny things to show him on your phone, and he was tired of watching videos. 

- He ended up initiating it, slowly trying to tease you by acting like he wasn’t aware of where his hands were, but quickly dropping the act and pushing you on your back, grinding against you and slipping his tongue in between your bruising lips

 - It didn’t take long at all for both of you to rid each other of any fabric in the way, him burying his cock inside of you with a grunt and a low “Fuck,”

- Usually with the women he had fucked before, they came rather quickly… 

- But as he harshly slammed himself inside of you, finally being able to enjoy being inside of you, he felt himself coming closer and closer to the edge- And you definitely hadn’t came yet.

- He pulled your leg up a bit, pushing it flush against your chest to get a better angle to ram into you, letting out a growling string of curses as you tightened around him

- A few more jerks of his hips, and he easily came inside of you, groaning out and breathing harshly against your neck.

- He wasn’t expecting you to whine, though. He looked up, a bit confused, as you pouted.

- “You came already?”

- “…You didn’t??” He swore he had felt you tense up, dig your nails into him even more. What happened?? Oh god, was he losing his touch?

- You pushed him on his back, climbing on top of him and forcing his cock back into you, rolling your hips. “I wasn’t done yet~ Can you keep going?”

- The fuck he could, but his embarrassment didn’t let him say that. He gripped your hips, keeping you in place as he pushed as deep as he could inside of you, letting out a guttural groan.

- You let out a loud moan, starting a steady and heavy pace, drinking in how his cock hit your g-spot on every thrust.

- He hadn’t been overstimulated before, but he refused to argue against it. He apparently needed to build his stamina back up anyway…

anonymous asked:

hc where dan is a new teacher at a school and he's v shy and he has a crush on the principle (aka phil) who's all professional and orderly and Phil goes in to dans class to watch him teach and do one of those evaluation things and Phil notices how flustered dan gets when they make eye contact and they fuck after class

Dan’s a good teacher. That’s what he’s worked for for years, right? Endless hours of schooling, to be a high school teacher at a somewhat-prestigious private school.

He smiled a lot, and was a good listener. He wasn’t the favorite teacher, or the cool one necessarily, but he was a good one. Even though he’d stutter and blush whenever the principle came within twenty feet of him.

Dan sighed, shuffling some papers on his desk. He was tired; he had gotten to school early to work, and he hadn’t even had coffee yet. He looked up when a boy walked in; a scrawny student with glasses, his nickname was Georgie and he loved Dan.

Dan tried to smile, running his fingers through his messy hair. “Hey Georgie,” he mumbled, stifling a yawn. “Early again?”

The boy nodded. “I need to study for the test today.”

Oh. That’s right, the test.

“Mmh, that’s smart of you,” Dan muttered, pushing the stack of papers to the side of his desk.

“Professor,” he started, stepping forward and tilting his head to the side. “You know about the inspection, right? You don’t look very prepared…” Georgie pointed to the mess on Dan’s desk; the scattered papers and piled up coffee cups.

Dan frowned, his heart dropping. “Inspection…? I didn’t hear about an inspection…”

The boy raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, the check up for the teachers today. The principle’s coming around during class…” he trailed off.

Dan’s eyes widened. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath. “Oops. I didn’t cuss, don’t tell your parents.” Georgie giggled.

He hadn’t known. Why had no one told him?

They probably had. He had been rather spacey recently.

“Well I’m screwed,” Dan mumbled, biting his lip. “Georgie, would you mind helping me clean up a bit…? I’ll give you extra credit…”

The boy nodded immediately, slinging off his bag and tossing it on the nearest desk.

“Sir?” Georgie smirked slightly, helping Dan with some of the mugs. “Do you have a crush on Mr. Lester?”

Dan immediately flustered, his face going red. “A crush? N-No, of course not, it’s… I wouldn’t call it a crush…” Dan swallowed, stumbling over his words. “You w-wouldn’t understand.”

Georgie rolled his eyes, straightening his glasses. “Whatever you say, professor.”

The rest of the day, Dan was a mess. He was sweaty and his hands were shaking, and he stuttered far too much.

The students were noticing; a few times one of them would raise their hand and ask what was wrong, and Dan would just deflect it. He couldn’t mess this up; he actually liked this job, he liked the kids. And it would hurt to be fired by the literal most attractive man he’d ever seen.

Damn it, he needed to get it together.

His literature class was the last to be inspected, which just made it worse. When the door finally quietly opened and shut and Phil Lester stepped through, Dan actually jumped.

“Uh, great,” he breathed, flashing the man a shaky smile and pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “Guys, your principle is here to check me out.” He instantly realized what he had said, and his face went magenta. “Er, I didn’t mean…” he let his face fall into his hands; some of the kids laughed, and one whistled. “Nevermind.”

Phil chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “It’s fine, Mr. Howell. Don’t worry, nothing too serious, I’m just here to observe.” He made a motion with his hand for Dan to continue. “Go on. Don’t mind me.”

The problem was, Dan did mind him. He was in the corner of his vision, in his fucking sexy tie and that look on his face…

Dan was sweating, and he stumbled over his words more than a few times, once even forgetting what he was saying all together.

He was a hot mess the whole time, and that’s why he wasn’t surprised when Phil stayed where he was after all of the students had trailed from the room.

Dan sighed, facing him and offering him a tight lipped smile.

“I’m sorry… that wasn’t the best class I’ve taught, I’ve been sick…”

Phil held out his hand, stopping him. “Please don’t worry, Mr. Howell. You’re not in trouble. I just have to ask you something.”

Dan frowned, his nerves getting the best of him, his stomach flipping. “Yes?”

Phil set down his clipboard, and straightening his glasses. “Are you scared of me, Dan?”

Dan raised his eyebrows, surprised by the question. “Scared… of you…?” Dan repeated.

Phil nodded, taking off the glasses and setting them down, stepping forward, and Dan’s breath caught.

“I couldn’t help but notice how nervous you looked,” Phil said calmly, and Dan swore he saw the hint of a smirk on his lips. “Your eyes kept… flickering to me, and you’d get distracted. Are you intimidated by me?”

Dan bit his lip, keeping Phil’s gaze, trying not to show how much of an effect he had on him.

“Was I? I suppose I’m just nervous about my job, I like working here…” he trailed off, sighing at the skeptical look on Phil’s face. “Okay. You caught me.” He laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “I have a tiny crush on you, it’s silly.”

Phil raised one eyebrow, stepping closer again, backing him against the desk. Now Dan was positive he was smirking, just the tiniest bit, and it was attractive as hell.

“Is that so?” He asked, his voice going low, and Dan’s eyes widened.

“Yes?” Dan squeaked, and cleared his throat. Phil chuckled.

“Well I don’t find that silly, Mr. Howell. It’s actually quite flattering.” He placed his hands on either side of Dan, leaning against the desk, effectively trapping him against the wood.

“Oh yeah?” Dan breathed. This was definitely a move. His heart skipped a beat, and he let his eyes flicker from Phil’s eyes to his lips. If he kissed him, Dan would pass out.

Phil smiled crookedly. “Yes. And if I’m being completely honest, I have the smallest crush on you as well.”

Dan’s face tinted even more pink, and he bit his lip. “R-Really?”

“Yes…” Phil drew a line up Dan’s jaw with his finger, hooking it under his chin and smirking. He moved close enough to Dan’s ear that he could feel his breath against his skin. “I think you’re cute. But you won’t let that distract you, will you professor?”

Dan swallowed, and Jesus, this was turning him on.

“No, of c-course not, sir,” Dan breathed, stifling a moan as Phil’s breath brushed his neck.

“Mmh,” Phil hummed in approval, and Dan could practically taste his grin. “Good boy.” And then Phil’s lips were against Dan’s throat, sucking gently, and Dan lost it.

His hands flew up, grasping at Phil’s shirt, and he let out a quiet whimper-moan combination. Phil chuckled, letting his hands fall to Dan’s waist and pulling him closer.

Dan threw his head back, giving Phil more access and whining as he bit down on Dan’s most sensitive spots. It was crazy how he knew all the places that would make Dan weak, when he hadn’t even touched him before.

“If we’re still being honest,” Phil growled under his breath, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Dan’s hair and pulling his head back. “I’ve wanted to do this since you started working here.”

Dan moaned from the combination of the words and the rough gesture. “Please…” he whined, squirming against Phil’s touch.

Phil smirked, nipping at a spot right under Dan’s ear. “Please what, baby?”

“I want you,” Dan muttered in response, hooking his fingers in Phil’s belt loops and pulling him closer so their hips were pressed together. “Please, Phil.”

Phil grinned, pulling Dan forward by the shirt and kissing him open mouthed. Dan kissed back immediately, letting Phil take control, moaning against his mouth as Phil slipped his tongue into Dan’s, gripping his waist.

Phil’s hands roamed Dan’s body and soon it was frantic, kissing him roughly and touching everywhere he could reach. Dan whimpered, bucking his hips into Phil’s, making Phil groan and hold him still, grinding against him.

Phil pulled back, his hair messy and his eyes flashing with pure lust.

“Clothes off,” he growled, moving over to the door and locking it.

Dan hurried to pull his jeans down when he collected himself, kicking them away as well as his shoes, tugging his sweater over his head. When Phil got back he kissed Dan again, loosening his tie.

“Pants,” he muttered, an order, and Dan nodded, falling to his knees and working at Phil’s zipper. He tugged them down, mouthing at the visible bulge in his boxers.

Phil groaned, tangling his fingers in Dan’s hair with one hand and using the other to unbutton his shirt.

“Jesus, Dan,” he breathed. “You’re good with your mouth.”

Dan looked up at him, grinning and standing, pushing Phil’s shirt the rest of the way off. “Thanks.”

Phil pushed him back against the desk, kissing him hotly and grabbing at his ass, grinding against him. Dan moaned, a high pitched whine falling from his lips.

“Do you have…?”

“Yes,” Dan said immediately, moving to dig through the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out a condom and then a small bottle of lube. Phil raised his eyebrows, and Dan shrugged. “What, I masterbate a lot,” he mumbled, coming back and wrapping his arms around Phil’s neck.

Phil smirked, kneading his ass and making Dan squeak. “Do you think about me?”

“Hell yeah,” Dan answered, breathless. “Now fuck me.”

Phil nodded, silently flipping Dan around, bending him over the desk. “Impatient,” he muttered, tutting and smoothing his hand over Dan’s ass.

Dan whimpered, burying his face in his arms and pushing back. “Please, sir, more.”

Phil tugged Dan’s boxers down swiftly, digging his nails into the soft flesh.

“Of course, babe,” he growled, pressing Dan’s face against the desk.

It didn’t take long to stretch him; Dan whined and pushed back on his fingers, transformed into a horny submissive teenager by Phil’s touch. It was adorable, and Phil could feel himself getting harder by the second.

Soon enough Dan was stretched enough, and Phil hurried to roll on the rubber and lube himself up, the anticipation in his stomach building.

He placed one hand firmly on Dan’s lower back and one was tangled in his hair, tugging as he pushed in without warning.

Dan cried out, muffling his moans of desperation by biting down on his hand. Phil groaned at the tight heat surrounding him, bottoming out slowly and digging his nails into Dan’s skin.

“So good,” he breathed huskily, pulling out almost all the way and pushing back in. “So fucking good, Dan, so tight- look so good underneath me…”

Dan moaned, loud and feminine; Phil was a talker, and fuck, that turned him on. Phil snapped his hips suddenly, thrusting hard, filling Dan up completely and making him scream. His eyes rolled back in his head.

“Fuck-! Phil, fuck, harder-!” He felt Phil press his face into the desk harder, and he practically drooled, panting desperately.

Phil listened to him, speeding up his thrusts and fucking into him rough. He rolled his hips, groaning and gripping Dan’s hips.

“Fuck, Dan-” he moaned, lining himself up to Dan’s body to kiss down the back of his neck as he thrust into him. “Oh Jesus, you feel so good.”

He sped up as much as he could, the only noises in the room being Dan’s noises of pleasure as well and Phil’s groans, and the slapping of skin.

Dan nearly screamed as Phil pounded into his prostate over and over again, hitting him in just the right spots, and he could feel himself getting close.

He came without warning, over the desk, his moans loud as ever and high pitched and whiny.

Phil made a noise low in his throat at Dan’s sudden change of pitch, and the tightening around his cock, and came into him with one last thrust.

The next day, Dan wore a turtleneck to class.

Young Justice Batmom: Part 8

AN: It has been forever and a day since I last updated this. I love how it turned out and I’m happy this got voted number one! For those of you who don’t know I held a poll on twitter to decide which series update I should post to day and YJ Batmom won! Make sure to follow me on twitter for more polls, and previews! Click Here to go to my twitter!

This chapter is dedicated to @audreythetealovingcat she’s been working on some super top secret stuff for me, and It’ll be going live soon! Thank you again so much, you continue to astound me!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7


    You complete the obstacle course without throwing up, which in your book… is a win. Especially since you’d thrown up the last two times you’d done it. If your father could see you now he’d be screaming.

           Years of physical training had gone down the drain in the years since you’d left your father’s organization and married Bruce. You’d never thought you’d have to fight again, and yet … here you were.

           “You’re getting better.”

           You crack open an eye to stare at your son, he’s balancing on his hands, on top of a ball. For a minute, you consider the possibility of him being part seal. You dismiss this as you heave your upper body into a sitting position. “I’m too old for this stuff.”

           Dick cracks a grin, “You’re in your twenties.”

           You nod, “My point exactly. That, and the fact that my husband is a task master.”

           Your eyes slide over to your husband. He’s standing in the corner writing notes on a clipboard. He glances at you for a second before writing something else down. Then without looking at you he says, “You’re the one who wanted to get back in fighting shape. I told you I wouldn’t go easy on you, and compared to Ra’s, I’m a freaking walk in the park. Now then, let’s go again.”

           You stare at him, “I want a divorce.”

           Dick slumps onto your back, and wraps his arms around your neck, before asking, “I can live with you, right? And Alfred will come with us, right?”

           Bruce smiles at the two of you before dropping the clipboard and rushing both of you. It’s instinct that has you hopping to your feet. Dick’s legs wrap around your waist, and then you’re running.

           You’re at the disadvantage, and you know it. You’re out of shape, and carrying a thirteen-year-old boy on your back. It’s honestly amazing that you last as long as you do. Bruce takes both of you down while taking the brunt of the fall.

           The three of you collapse in a laughing heap and just lay there. Dick is sandwiched in-between the two of you when he laughs, “We should do this more often.”

           You sigh, “Some families do a game night.”

           Bruce and Dick look at each other for a minute before shaking their heads and saying, “Nah.”

           You roll your eyes and hop to your feet, “Well I am going to go take a shower.”

           Bruce sits up, “What are you talking about, you still have laps to do. You didn’t beat your obstacle course time.”

           You glare at him, “You want to go back to being a billionaire playboy, don’t you?”

           “If he knows what’s good for him, he won’t even entertain that thought.” Alfred says as he enters the gym. “I worked long and hard to put the idea of lifelong companionship in his mind, and I refuse to go back to bimbos walking around in his dress shirts.”

           You glance at your husband, “When the hell did that happen? We got together when we were twenty. After you’d been training for two years.”

           Bruce winces, “I was sixteen, and he was supposed to be gone for the entire weekend.”

           Alfred rolls his eyes, “Like I was going to be that stupid.”

           You stare at your husband, and he stares back, before he says, “How about I forget about the laps, and we stay married.”

           You smile, “Okay, but only for Alfred’s sake.” You lean down and kiss your husband, when you pull back you whisper in his ear, “And maybe a bit for my own as well.”

           He pulls you back down for another kiss, before whispering, “Do you want some company?”

           You glance over at Dick who’s on the parallel bars, “Well we certainly wouldn’t be missed.”

           You grin at each other when the alarm goes off. He growls and you frown. Dick dismounts and simply says, “Let’s go guys.”

    You and Dick head straight for the Mountain while Bruce changes into his gear. You don’t bother with the mask or changing. At this point, the secret’s out, and you could not care less. You watch your son spar with Kaldur, and you find the Artemis at your side a moment later.

    “Hi Mrs. Wayne.”

    You smile at the girl, “Hello, Artemis.”

    The archer smiles back, “Why do you look like you’ve spent the morning getting your butt kicked.”

    You sigh, “Because I live with bullies, and I am waaay out of practice.”

    Artemis chuckles and takes a seat next to you, “So it’s possible to lose the skills, then?”

    You shrug, “I wish that were the case. Instead it seems to be more along the lines of they’re in hibernation. Then I find myself pinned and they seem to wake up a little at a time, and then my body just moves.”

    “Self preservation wins out.”

    You nod, “It would seem so.”

    There’s a moment of silence before she asks, “So does this mean you’re joining the Team or the League?”

    You snort out a laugh, “Neither. I’m a reserve member. I only go if they need me.”

    “Do you have a costume?”

    Your eye twitches, “I don’t do tights.”

    She laughs as Bruce enters, and you follow the kids to the command center. By the end of the briefing your eye is twitching, and you’re radiating anger. No one seems willing to approach you, with the exception of Bruce, and even he seems hesitant.

    “Y/N,” He says slowly.

    “Don’t you dare try to keep me from going, Bruce Wayne.” He winces at the use of his name.

    He tries again, “Y/N…”

    “I hate that damn clown, I hate him with everything I have. He needs to be put down, and I don’t want my kids near him.” Bruce stares at you, and your eyes narrow, “What?”

    “Two things. One we don’t kill, and two when did we get ‘kids’? Last time I checked we had a kid. Singular, not plural.”

    You roll your eyes, “The minute I became den mother those kids became ours. I’ve already dealt with the Joker hurting Dick once, I refuse to see it happen again.”

    “He knows the risk. We all do.”

    “He’s thirteen Bruce.”

    “And what could you do at thirteen?”

    “That’s a different situation.”

    “How?”

    “I was raised by an immortal psychopath who thought it was fun to pit his children against each other.”

    Bruce hesitates for a minute, “What would you suggest?”

    “Send two of the League with them, and I can help the League.”

    Bruce stares at you, “You’ve only been training for …”

    “My whole life Bruce. I’ve been training for my entire life. I’m rusty, I won’t deny that, but I can help take down some plants.”

    He stares at you in contemplation, before sighing. Then he lifts his finger to his earpiece and says, “There’s been a change of plans, Hell Cat and I are going with the Team.” There’s a moment of silence before he barks back, “Of course I’m sure. I’d be next to useless against giant plants. Batman out.”

    You smile at him before leaning in to kiss him, “I’ll go suit up.”

    Dick is less thrilled than you are by the news. “I can’t believe my parents are going on a mission with me! I’m thirteen, I don’t need a babysitter.

    You scoff from your seat in the bio ship, “Richard Grayson, get your temper tantrum under control now, or you can wait in the ship.”

    His head turns to stare at you with the use of his full name, “MOM!”

    You raise an eyebrow, and stare back before he relents and slumps into his seat, “Let’s get one thing straight. The minute I became den mother you all became my kids. This mission is an active fight against high level villains, and I’ll be damned if I let some stupid clown hurt my kids.”

    The kids turn to face you, a bit surprised by your declaration, but no one protests. There’s several moments of silence before Bruce says, “Looks like your days of being an only child are over kid.” There’s a stunned silence before the ship bursts out in laughter.

    The mission is hard, and by the end you want nothing to do with swamps, bugs, or plants ever again. In fact, you’re even considering sabotaging Alfred’s ficus. But you consider it worth it to see Bruce punch out the clown, especially after he went after your baby with a knife.

    “Wow those mosquitos really did a number on you.” Artemis smirks.

    You try to resist the urge to scratch one of the numerous bites on your skin, “Yeah, I can’t leave the house without being doused in bug spray during the summer. Mosquitoes flock to me.”

    “You need a better suit.”

    “Oh, I have ideas for that!” M’Gann calls from the other side of the room. And before you know it the rest of the kids are all pitching in their ideas, before Kaldur says loudly, “Perhaps we should let our mother have some say.”

    You blink owlishly for a moment before, M’Gann says, “Well, Mom?”

    Artemis nudges you with her elbow, “Aunt Y/N?”

    Wally and Dick grin at you, and then Conner too asks, “Mom?”

    You glance at Bruce over their heads and he smiles at you. Smiling you open your arms and say, “We’ll talk about it later. For now, group hug!”

    Then you’re surrounded by your kids. You glance at Dick who’s hanging off your back, and he simply smiles and says, “I guess we’re one big happy family now.”

    You smile and say, “You’re still my baby.”

    He just groans.

ambedo

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

(n) a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: tons of fluff, some angst

length: 12k

summary: a new kid on the bus catches your interest, especially when he’s listening to your favourite song

a/n: i wrote this before jimin said he loves the song ‘lost’ by frank ocean. we have some sort of telepathy

Keep reading

Tipsy🍺

Summary: You’re just ‘one of the guys’ aka: “not considered an option by the guys”. And it hurts. Especially when it comes to your friend and crush Steve Rogers.

Or, Where a drunk Steve tries to break into your room at an ungodly time of night.

Author’s note: I know this has been long overdue😭,

also thank you so so so much for all the support and feedback you guys have been giving me on my imagines, it means a lot.❤❤❤As always feedback is much appreciated!

Warnings: insecurities, language, Steve being a hot ass mess


Steve rogers is a ladies man.

Well kind of a ladies man…The ladies came to him, he didn’t come to the ladies.

Two years ago you helped put the Avengers team back together and then joined it.

Three months after joining the team you realized you had a crush on Steve Rogers.

Nine months later you were in love with him.

A year ago Steve dated Sharon Carter for four months. And has been a ladies man  ever since.

“Damn he’s making a second round already?” Sam mutters under his breath. Bucky muffles a snort. You’re sitting at the kitchen countertop on a tall stool with Bucky and Sam on either side of you. The three of you are currently watching Candice “just call me Candy” Martin run her glossy pink nails up and down Steve’s arm. Steve’s blushing, but he doesn’t stop her. That’s the thing about Steve. He never makes the first move. The girls come on to him and he just blushes in that adorable Steve Rogers way of his and allows it to happen. Then he asks them out and of course they accept- he’s Captain America. You never knew women to be so forward until you had met Steve. They competed with each other for his attention and seemed to relish it.

First there was Candice Martin, the pretty pale and freckled redheaded agent.

Then Freja Hosk, the tall intimidatingly beautiful, Swedish ice blond medic.

Then Paisley Fisk, the gorgeous SHEILD scientist, blessed with flawless dark skin, deep dimples, plush full lips, and waist length braids.

After her there was Biyu Zhou the stunning Chinese agent, graced with an amazing body and a pretty face that always seemed to be flirting with you.

And these were the ones that Steve went on multiple dates with. There was no counting the amount of women he’d only gone out with one time. He’d seemed to have gone through the whole building.

Now it seemed to be back to Candice. You watch Candice give Steve’s arm a lingering squeeze before leaving the kitchen. Your heart twists and you look down at your cereal. You hate feeling this way. Especially for someone who would never feel the same way about you. You and Steve are close friends; you could even call him your best friend, after Sam. But to him you’re just one of the guys.

‘One of the guys’ ….you hate that expression. Because it’s always described you.

You’re not even lucky enough to be one of those cool ‘one of the guys’ girls, the ones that understand men and eventually have one of their guy friends falling for them. No. You’re just one of the guys because guys don’t even consider you a sexual option.

Steve calls you ‘buddy’ for pete’s sake.

Steve wanders over to the kitchen counter and pulls up a stool next to Bucky.

“Let me guess, hot date this Friday?” Sam asks.

“Yeah” Steve answers, stealing a blueberry from Bucky’s plate. Bucky halfheartedly swats Steve’s hand away.

“Man even I wasn’t getting this much action in my heyday,” Bucky chuckles. He reaches out and thumps Steve on the back. “Who woudda thought that Stevie turned out to be the biggest lady killer of ‘em all”

Steve shakes his head, and swipes Bucky’s coffee mug, draining it in one gulp. Amid Bucky’s protests Tony walks into the kitchen. His hair is sticking in all different directions and he has that crazy ‘I haven’t slept in 24 hours’ look in his eye. For about a week him and Banner have been hole-ing themselves in the lab with a few choice SHEILD scientists working on some secret ‘important project’.

“Rough night Tony?” Sam asks.

“Yeah,” Tony walks over to the other counter and pours himself a cup of coffee. “And not the good type of rough either.”

“But, even genius comes out of my roadblocks.” Tony sighs holding his mug in his hands and inhaling the coffee’s aroma .

“So you finally finished the project?” you ask.

“Nope.” Tony answers “But while I was trying to work on the project I got to thinking about Cap’s problem…well one of his many problems.” Tony chuckles to himself at his, and pulls something out of his pocket and tosses it at Steve. “And of course being the humanitarian I am, I solved it.”

“What’s this?” Steve turns what looks like a silver flask over in his hands.

“Next time you want to relax, try cracking this open with ice princess over here on a Saturday night. If it works properly you two finally won’t be the only sober ones on our poker nights.”

“Uh, thanks Tony,” Steve says hesitantly, tucking the flask away, but you know he’s happy. Steve’s confided in you many times that he wishes he just could let go, just not think about the fate of the world or what everyone wants him to be for once. He smiles at Tony and Tony flashes a smile back.

“No problem.” He downs the rest of his coffee and pops a piece of chewing gum. “Now if you’ll excuse me I’m supposed to get brunch with Ms. Paisley Fisk,” Tony’s grin stretches from ear to ear.

“Never seen you so excited about brunch Tony,” You observe, taking a bite of your cereal.

“Brunch? I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about brunch. Now Paisley Fisk on the other hand…?” He gives a low whistle “I mean have you seen her?….And have you seen those knocke-”

You roll your eyes “Alright Tony, we get that you’re a dog. Move along” You interrupt him. Tony smirks and heads out the door.

“Did he just lick his lips?” You ask, but Sam’s too busy collecting the dirty dishes and Steve and Bucky are hunched together, probably discussing the flask, so you don’t get an answer. You sigh and head out, deciding to get some paperwork and training in so you don’t just lounge around all day. As you head down the hallway, a thought strikes you. Not once has Tony Stark, the famous playboy who would flirt with anything female with a pulse, flirted with you. Not one sly remark, cheesy pickup line or cheeky comment.

Damn I really must be ugly’ you think to yourself.  Heavy footsteps jogging behind you interrupt your thoughts.

“Hey,” Steve says catching up to you, giving you that dazzling smile of his.

“Hey” you respond, smiling back.

“We still on for movie night?” he asks

“Of course, I have three picked for you today,”

“Are the going to be as bad as the last ones?” Steve rolls his eyes.

You gasp in mock horror. “Steve Rogers. My movie choices aren’t bad.”

Steve pretends to think “Okay maybe one of them wasn’t bad.” You guys reach the training room. You push open the glass doors and enter.

“Was it the one that made you cry?”

Steve wraps his arms around your waist, effortlessly pulling you off the ground. He starts to muss up your hair. “Take that back! I just had something in my eye.”

“No! I’m telling the truth!” you screech, laughing. Steve starts to tickle you and you squirm. “Stop! Put me down!”

“Oh okay,” he says and makes as if to drop you, making you screech and cling to him. Your stomach hurts from laughing.

“Steve?” A high pitched voice cuts through your happy haze. It’s Candice “Could you spar with me a bit?” Steve puts you down, and you prepare to mask your expression, to smile and say you’ll catch him later, but when you look up he’s already walked away.


That Friday night starts out as usual. You hole yourself up in your room so you don’t have to see Steve getting ready to pick up Candice for their date. But today you don’t even have Sam to keep you from slipping into sadness because he’s out with his girl tonight too.

So you sit and stew .

Listen to sad music and cry.

Watch a sad movie that make your heart hurt.

Eat pizza and ice-cream and stew.

Look at pictures of Steve on your phone.

Zoom in on his biceps and cry.

And then you start thinking about how Candice is probably running her fingers through Steve’s hair, pulling him closer and kissing him. He’s probably wrapping his arms around her waist, and then you start thinking about how he’ll never touch you like that- he’ll never want to touch you like that. How nobody ever does- and then you decide it’s time to put yourself to bed.

 But you just lay in the dark staring up at the ceiling, thinking about all the beautiful women he’s dated and start comparing yourself.  You wish you could be pretty like them. Take their beauty and wear it like a mask- after all how else would  anyone ever notice you? You wish for once someone would see you, actually see the whole you and want you.

Just as your eyes are about to start watering your door shakes. It sounds like someone’s trying to break in. Reacting quickly, you grab your pistol from your dresser and approach the door. The door handle continues to jiggle.

Your mind boggles at who it could be, after all, what intruder would be this loud? And the compound is practically impenetrable, how would they have not set off any alarms? Still, your heart rate rises as you look through the peephole. When you spy a familiar head of blonde hair you huff and put away your pistol and open the door.

“Steve? Wha-“ Steve barrels past you, flicking on the lights and kicking off his shoes. He sways slightly, and turns towards you. You catch the strong scent of something then, like alcohol, but slightly off. He says your name, surprised.

“Wha-wha are ya doing in my room?” He says

“Steve this isn’t-“ you start, but Steve walks up to you and puts a finger to your lips.

“Shh- iss okay, ya can stay” he slurs slightly, and sits on your bed.

“Steve are you drunk?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

Steve giggles “Ya, To-nyyy’s stuff actually worked” he sing-songs Tony’s name. “I feel great” He says laying back.

You hold back a smile, and then a terrible thought crosses your mind. “Steve, where’s Bucky?”

“Oh don’t worry, old Buck’s in his room. Out lika light” Steve snorts “Lightweight.”

You shake your head, wondering what you’re going to do with him, when the sound of movement on the bed makes you look up. Steve’s already stripped off his shirt and is working on his pants. You want to say something- you should stay something, but you’re too distracted by the flexing of his abdominals as he peels off his jeans.

“Steve” You hiss, you don’t think you can say much else. Not when every muscle in his body is standing out in sharp relief.

Steve looks up and smiles widely at you, patting the place next to him. Steve really must be gone. Normally he would be three shades of red if you even mentioned seeing him shirtless. You hesitate for a moment before crawling next to him.  He wraps a well muscled arm around you and pulls you close. It feels so nice you don’t even mind the stink of alcohol on his breath

“So” you scramble for something to say. “How was your date?”

“Terrible,”

“Oh really?” you ask. You decide to try to fish details out of him. “Candice is very beautiful”

“Yeah not really my type.” Steve snorts.

“Oh?” your fingers decide to do their own thing and start tracing the ridges in his forearm. “What’s you type then?”

Steve’s silent for such a long time you start to think he’s fallen asleep. But then his fingers grasp your face, squishing your cheeks together. He looks down at you, and his big blue eyes look like languid pools of water.

“You. This beautiful face of yours.” He replies. Your heart pounds and you will it to stop. He’s drunk. In the morning he won’t even look at you let alone want you.

“Stop playing Steve,” You turn and start scooting away.

“I’m noooot” he whines, and hooks an arm around you, pulling you to his chest. You try to squirm away but he’s got you in an iron grip “You’re so beautiful Y/n” His large calloused hand caresses your face sloppily.

“Oh really?” you say, trying to keep the bitterness out of your voice. “Why haven’t you said anything before?”

“’cause ya won’t let me.” You feel lips at press at the back of your neck, and you have to stop yourself from squeaking “Come’on y/n….just give me a chance… just one chance. I promise I won’t mess it up. I’ll tell ya that you’re beautiful every day…” He kisses your earlobe and sets your skin on fire “I’ll treat you right. I promiiisee. Why won’t you give me a chance?” his voice turns whiney again. He’s suddenly too close, too much and you squirm out of his embrace. He makes a hurt noise in the back of his throat and you hush him, turning off the lights.

“Let’s go to bed Steve.”

“Ooh I like the sound of that,”

“If you don’t shut up…” You snap, feeling your way to the bed. Once you’re under the covers Steve locks you in his embrace again, almost crushing you. You lay on his chest, his warmth enveloping you, your mind racing a mile a minute. Then Steve’s hand slides up your body and starts rubbing your back and you slip off into sleep.


When you wake up Steve’s gone. Your heart drops, but after laying in bed for a bit you decide to confront him. You pull on your favorite pair of high waisted jeans and an over-sized cropped sweater. You look at yourself in the mirror. ‘At least I can look good while getting rejected.’ You head into the kitchen and are greeted with the sight of a busted looking Bucky being served breakfast by Sam. You pause for a moment to scoop a muffin from the box on the counter and to admire the architecture of Bucky’s hair, half of which is standing straight up, the other half is at a 90 degree angle.

“So I take it Stark’s concoction worked?” Sam asks, arranging pancakes on a plate. Both of their backs are to you, Bucky sitting at the kitchen counter, Sam in front of the stove top.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, voice rough, “Who woudda thought Stark could make that good stuff?”

Sam chuckles “So you and Rogers have a good time last night?”

“Ya, well until Steve started getting whiney.” Bucky snorts.

“What?”

“Buck, why doesn’t y/n like me? She’s so pretty Buck I can’t take it, why doesn’t she liiike me?” Bucky mocks Steve’s voice. “After that I decided to go bed. I get enough y/n talk when I’m sober.”

“Really?” Sam pries, and you smile, Sam knew about your little crush, and like a true friend was fishing for more information.

“Yeah, he’s such a wimp, I always tell him just to make a move-“ Bucky cuts him self off “Sam ya better not tell y/n about this…I swear”

Sam turns around, pancakes in hand “Don’t worry-“ He looks up and meets your gaze “I won’t have to” he laughs. Bucky looks up at Sam and then turns around. He groans.

“Y/n, how long have you been?- Actually nevamind, obviously  long enough. Just do me a favor and don’t tell Steve about this? He’s an absolute madman when it comes to you….” Bucky grumbles, pulling his hood over his head.

“a… madman?” You ask walking up to the counter.

Bucky snorts. “Yeah he practically beat Stark’s ass after he overhead him saying something slick ‘bout ya.”

You lock eyes with Sam. “Go get him tiger.” Sam smiles at you. You wipe your palms on your jeans and turn to head out.

“Word ta the wise, check the roof.” Bucky calls out after you.

You find Steve sitting on the roof, staring off into the distance. His hair is still messy but he’s wearing a clean white button down shirt, and tan pants with those suspenders you always secretly find adorable on him.

“Steve?” you call out hesitantly “Can we talk?”

Steve’s head whips around and his eyes widen. He then massages his temples with a groan. He must be suffering from quite the hangover.

“You don’t have to say it y/n, let’s just forget last night ever happened.” Your heart beats faster and you gather up the last of your courage before it completely slips away.

“Steve-what you said…did you mean it?”

Steve groans again, dropping his head into his hands.

Yes.” He says quietly.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me Steve?”

“Why should I have?” he gives a defeated chuckle. “Ya already rejected me,”

“What?” Your mouth drops in disbelief and you walk up and stand next to Steve, looking down at him “When? When did you even ask me out?”

Steve looks up at you “What do you mean? I tried after every upstate training session.”

Your eyes squint as you think back. A little over a year ago the team met upstate for a four days to train at this specialized facility and test out new weapons. You think back some more.

“You just asked me to ‘hang out’ after those sessions.” You say incredulously, “Not on a date”

“But that’s how people date nowadays.” Steve looks confused.

You laugh “No, not really. And anyways after those training sessions I was so  disgusting that the last thing I wanted to do was go get ice-cream and marinate in my own sweat  for a few hours”

“But all tha other girls took ‘hanging out’ ta mean a date” Steve looks even more confused.

“I guess nowadays ‘hanging out’ can imply a date, but most of the time it still just means hanging out. At least to me” you mutter the last part “Where’d you get this idea from anyway?”

Steve’s ears turn pink “Uh Bucky”

You eyes practically roll out of your head “Steve! You know he only thing Bucky knows about dating is from those stupid teen drama shows he’s obsessed with.”

Steve’s face turns bright red “I’ll have ya know Bucky was quite good with the ladies.”

You can’t help but to burst out laughing. After you calm down you sit down next to Steve. “You going to Bucky for advice on dating is like the blind leading the blind”

Steve chuckles, wiping a hand down his face. After a moment you pause.

“Steve, why’d you practically date the whole building instead of just telling me.”

“I dunno. I guess I just thought you’d already rejected me so I didn’t want to push the issue, and still wanted to be your friend. So I just thought I’d try to find someone else…” he turns his head and looks at you “But damn it Y/n it’s impossible to find someone who even comes close to ya…” His gaze takes your breath away so it takes a moment for you to respond.

“I guess that’s a good thing then…cause I feel the same way about you.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah” you laugh and you feel like you’re flying because all the baggage, all the pain is starting to unload. “And if you hadn’t been so dumb and listened to Bucky you would have known a long time ago.”

Steve smiles widely and wraps an arm around you, the other hand caressing your face.

“So. You wanna go on a date with me?”

“Yeah” You pretend to consider it, and then lay your head on his shoulder “Sounds a lot better then just hanging out.”


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