as in her big brown eyes

anonymous asked:

Waurel promt: Laurel is jealous about Wes and Rebecca on season one

Laurel’s shoes clack against the wooden stairs, winding up a dark staircase, with music blasting through the halls.  Adjusting the strap of her bag, she heads up to the floor she needs.

Waiting outside the door, she raises her hand to knock, hesitating for just a second, unsure what exactly she’s doing there.  The insults thrown at him earlier tonight had stuck in her head, the instinct to protect him immediate.

Looking down, she gives herself a sad smile, tucks her hair behind her ear, and knocks with a shake of her head.  The rings on her fingers vibrating with the force.

She’s met with a shocked face, big brown eyes staring at her as if she had two heads, his body standing in the way of her coming in.

“Laurel…?” Wes asks, almost as if unsure that that is in fact her name.

Her mouth becomes tight, but her eyes glitter with amusement.

“You gonna let me in?” She asks, trying to peek around him to see inside.

“Uhh…yeah, yeah,” he stutters, moving aside only to frantically check around the place, for what, she’s not sure, but he looks nervous.  “What umm, what are doing here?”

Laurel shyly stands by the door, glancing around at his sparse belongings and run down place.

“I uhh, thought we could help each other out…” she starts, and his eyes grow even wider than before.  “With the case,” she finishes, and he seems to relax a bit.

Wes tilts his head, quietly staring at her, and she begins to heat up with a blush, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“Sure, I just got the supplemental arrest report,” he offers, and she accepts the invitation.

Before long, they’re both seated against the headboard of his bed, folders and notebooks scattered around them, pens moving furiously, as they work in silence.

Unconsciously, her fingers begin to become idle, grabbing at a strand of hair, resting her elbow against the headboard, holding her forearm vertical, twisting and turning the hair.

It’s not until she hears a laugh next to her, that she pauses, looking over at him with a furrowed brow, and innocent eyes, unsure of what he’s laughing at.

“I thought girls twirling their hair was a myth,” he jokes.  And she realizes where her hand is, and she lowers it, embarrassedly.  

“Nervous habit,” she admits.  “Sorry,” slipping out, as she looks away, back to her work.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” he jokes, lightly hitting her against the shoulder with his own.

“Thanks,” she says with a huff, peeking at him.

Wes sets his work aside, situating himself to where he’s now facing her, his full attention directed at her, and she flops her hands down on the notebook in front of her.

“Can I ask you a question?” He prefaces with a question.  And she can’t help but think she’d never met anyone that…nice before.  He made her nervous, in the kind of way that had butterflies floating in her stomach.  His warm, brown eyes, gentle nature, suggesting that he wasn’t one to play games, wasn’t one to hurt her.

“Umm, sure,” she agrees.

“They all hate me, call me Waitlist,” he says, a dimpled grin smiling right at her.

She frowns, the nickname still rubbing her the wrong way.  Not knowing much about him, but enough to know he didn’t deserve that.

“But you don’t,” he spits out before she can answer.  It’s not a question, but rather a statement, one that has her stilling in place, her eyes searching his face for where he was going with this.  She pulls the sleeves of her sweater lower down on her hands.

“Is there a question in there?” She asks, teasing him, sounding all too familiar to a lawyer, even now.

“Why?”  And the question is so innocent, not self-deprecating in the least, just genuinely curious as to why she was the exception.  “The first day, you…” he trails off, as a knock against his door startles them both, and they quickly separate, unaware of how close they’d both gotten to each other as they spoke.

Glancing at the clock as he gets up to get the door, she realizes it’s nearly 4 a.m., the time having slipped by her, the realization slamming her against the chest.  Glancing up to find a girl in a towel, something about flushed drugs, and needing to use Wes’ shower.

She can see the hesitancy in his posture, eyes flickering to her, as the girl peeks around him to see her.

Suddenly she feels stupid, ridiculous to assume that someone like Wes, someone good, could perhaps like her, even as a friend.

“I uhh, I should go,” Laurel says, quickly gathering her things and tossing them into her bag, slinging it onto her shoulder, and hurriedly moving towards the door.

“Laurel, you don’t have to go,” he pleads, the awkward situation not one that either of them could’ve predicted when she decided to come over.

“It’s fine,” she says, eyes squinting at him.  “I’ll see ya tomorrow,” she says, glancing at the girl still in her towel, who smiles at her, which just sends Laurel quickly down the stairs.

“Did I interrupt something?” She hears being asked, as she makes her way out of the building.

“No,” Laurel whispers, chastising herself for daring to think she deserved something better, or rather, someone better.  Wes.

Leave the first sentence of a fic in my ask box and I will write the next five sentences.

well now i’m on an aliens kick. also, i just went in my kitchen to get some ice water and walked in on a fucking roach orgy because no matter how much i clean this apartment is fucking ghetto so let’s talk about how aliens would react to human pest control methods.

“Why is Stacy cleaning the dishware? We have cleaning robots to do that for her,” asked Qwerty (his full name was much, much longer, but because it was written with every letter of one of the more commonly used human alphabets, and something about early digital communications, the humans on the I.S. Dastallria had given him the nickname). 

Xorzit’ket shrugged as best as her anatomy could manage the borrowed gesture. “Why don’t you go ask her?” 

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You could’ve chosen the girl with green eyes and long hair, who loves going out on dates and likes to cook for you, who always takes long baths and listens to music while doing her homework, who loves coffee and peppermint tea, who smiles at strangers and is crazy about sunsets,


you could’ve chosen the girl who laughs like a princess and loves her parents, who reads poems and does yoga, who doesn’t eat meat and smells of vanilla, who is obsessed by sudoku and animes, who would play the piano for you and would adore your big brown eyes,


you could’ve chosen the girl who teaches you how to treat a woman, who doesn’t get angry at you and isn’t jealous at all, who is passionate about photography and music, who laughs at your silly jokes and knows how to get what she wants,


you could’ve chosen the girl who likes roses and “The walking dead”, who knows her worth and likes to play videogames, who would love to dance, especially for you and would love to watch with you movies about super heroes, 


but you chose me and I’m still wondering why.

— 

http://writies.tumblr.com/

I’m still wondering why.

Petname Babygirl II pt.1

yoongi x reader

genre: smut, dom!yoongi, sugardaddy!yoongi

word count: 7.3k


Sleeping with some random guy was one thing. But realizing that he is your boss was a disaster until he offers you something tempting you cannot reject.

Originally posted by sugamysavagebaby

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The Zodiac Signs as People
  • Aries: White boys with straight teeth and blue eyes that can only see what they want to see. Blond hair that seems to do what it wants and somehow they look like artwork without even trying.
  • Taurus: Asian men in nice suits with golden watches and the latest technology, a wedding ring that looks like it's been polished. Chestnut colored eyes with short, black hair.
  • Gemini: Japanese women who have cute smiles that make their eyes close, that have an almost blind innocence about both the beauty in the world and the scorn.
  • Cancer: Tall boys with light dark skin and giant dorky smiles and dorky glasses that you just can't help but love, with flannels that are slightly too big for them cause they're so lanky, and the only big thing about them are their soft brown eyes.
  • Leo: Beautiful dark skinned women with tight curls that bounce around their faces, with beautiful amber eyes and full lips that grab your focus as they speak.
  • Virgo: Loving islamic women who wear their headscarves as not only a religious pieces but a fashionable beauty. With piercing eyes that delve into the deepest part of your soul as the simplicity to their appearance and the hidden aspects make it so much more elegant.
  • Libra: Bi-racial women who smile like the sun comes from directly inside them and the moon is their best friend. They have gorgeous curly hair and smaller brown eyes with thick lips and full figures that only they can pull of perfectly. Beautiful styles of blue hues and greens and looking like they've popped right out of the most professional photo one could possibly imagine.
  • Scorpio: Little Latina women who's eyes cut like knives and who's eyeliner wings look like they'll pick her up and fly away. Beautiful and sexy their voices can both soothe the soul and cause chaos in the heart.
  • Sagittarius: Indian boys with their caramel skin and big eyes that reflect the beauty of mountains, and black, scruffy hair on their faces.
  • Capricorn: Protective dark skinned men with heavy accents and large arms that are secretly giant softies at heart, with beautiful kind souls. (I always personally imagine them in a nice suit with a gold or mustard colored tie).
  • Aquarius: Tall pale-skinned women who smile like the Earth was the most beautiful plant and the wonder in their gray eyes makes you think they're hoping there's a next.
  • Pisces: Short lighter-skinned black girls with looser curls with bright eyes and wide smiles.
Lance and the Mirror of Erised

Lance stares back at the mirror suspiciously, wondering why in the hell Pidge would ever want to keep that. It’s not like she would need it or anything, and Lance hold no grudges against it, it’s just…

Creepy.

Suspicious.

Creepy because of the old fashioned golden frame with an inscription that said, erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Whatever alien language that was in.

Suspicious because when Pidge had found it during a mission, she claimed to have seen her brother and father in the reflection, smiling at her, hoping it was some kind of clue, and thus she brings it on board to the castle.

Lance called the bull immediately, wanting to get rid of that…mirror thing…as soon as possible. He could think of all the bad things that could happen, everything he’s seen in movies come flashing through his mind…like what if one of the paladins got literally sucked in and can’t get themselves out? Or what if one of them couldn’t take their eyes off the reflection because they saw some kind of traumatizing thing that could affect their brains?

Whatever the possibilities, it’s just unlikely to find something this enchanting with their luck. But the others took Pidge’s word over his ridiculous thoughts, thinking what possible damage could a mirror do? It’s only a big piece of glass surrounded by a fancy old frame, glass for which people could check their reflection, that’s all a mirror is after all.

It was a quiet night, up until the point when Lance woke up from a nightmare, and all he could do was pace around the castle in order to clear his mind from all the horrid images that would flash in his head from the bad dream. He didn’t feel like going back to sleep any time soon, and getting some food from the kitchen to help him fall asleep wasn’t exactly something he want to do at two in the morning.

Or…space.

He thought about going to the training deck to help tire him out, and keep his mind busy at the same time, seeing that he wasn’t going back to bed in his room any time now.

-

Once he was in the training deck, he was just about to demand for a level, expecting the training bot to come out, until he was interrupted by a quick flash of light in his peripheral vision that caught his attention. He walks closer to the light, keeping his footsteps light as if he was approaching a small creature. He keeps his eyes open, thinking that if he loses his eye contact, the light would disappear in a flash.

It comes to his disappointment when the light of the object that caught his direct attention was just the lights of the training deck reflecting off that stupid mirror Pidge brought home.

However, he does look good in it.

He runs his eyes back over the frames of the mirror.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Still gibberish, if you ask him.

Lance’s eyes drifts into the actual mirror, and checks himself out, happy to see that there wasn’t a line of worry on his face, or a break out any where in his sight. His hair was a disheveled mess, sticking up in every direction due to the twists and turns he had done in bed because of the nightmares. He didn’t bother to fix it up, knowing that he’ll just fall asleep, and it’ll still be an untidy mess when he wakes up. He does a couple of poses just for the fun of it, chuckling softly at his reflection as he was making faces for his own enjoyment.

Okay, maybe the mirror isn’t as evil or creepy as Lance thought it would be, but it still doesn’t mean that finding this during a mission, along Pidge saying she saw her brother, it doesn’t make it any more suspicious than it already is. Useful, maybe, but still suspicious.

He feels a yawn release itself from his chest and escape his lips, and he decides to leave the deck before he falls asleep on the spot. Lance was giving one more finger gun at himself towards the mirror, until he sees it.

He catches his breath, and his heart felt like it almost dropped to the pit of his stomach. Scratch that, he feels his stomach begin to churn, aching with a sense of longing and sickness. There was no way that what he was seeing was actually real, but he refuses to look away and search behind him to see if it was more than an illusion. As much as it pains him to say, he feels his tongue tie itself in a knot, wanting to say that one word he hasn’t said out loud in so long without seeing her face.

“Mamá?”

There she stood, smiling, dressed in her usual floral clothing. In the mirror, she looked just as Lance had remembered, her friendly smile, her short height, her kind blue eyes. The image of his mamá squeezed his cheeks with one hand, leaving a small kiss. Lance’s eyes widens, and he didn’t even feel a tear roll down his face until he reaches a hand up to wipe it away.

And as he wipes it away, he looks around him, the training deck still empty. Looking back into the mirror, the reflection of his mamá stood, whispering words in his ear that Lance couldn’t hear. She gives him a big hug, which made Lance open his arms up to hug her back, only to find himself reaching out for nothing but air.

He snaps from his daze, his arms slowly going back down to his sides, but he hasn’t break eye contact with the mirror just yet.

His mamá steps aside, but Lance didn’t want her to go just yet. He wanted to remember her face, have it etched in his mind, so he wouldn’t ever forget. Luckily, she only stepped aside for another person to come in the mirror.

Another person steps into view. A taller person. With her long brown hair and similar blue eyes, her golden tan skin like the sun had given her a kiss. His oldest sister. She brings Lance in an embrace, holding him close, almost picking him up off the ground. But Lance looks up, knowing that she wasn’t really there, but still felt disappointed when he comes to see no one hugging him. He returns to indulge himself in the reflections and images that the mirror was somehow giving. Then another comes in, this one was shorter, his brown hair bouncing as he was running up to Lance’s reflection, wrapping his little arms around his leg. Came another one, joining in on the group hug. Then another, and another, until Lance sees all of his siblings, his four sisters and three brothers, drowning him in a big, suffocatingly loving, group hug.

He longs to feel all of these hugs himself, and not just look at it happening in a mirror. His heart starts to warm up by seeing every single face he comes to see in the reflection, laughing quietly to himself.

Lance brings his arms closer to him, embracing himself with his own arms to feel the hugs. It wasnt as comforting as the numerous of arms that wrapped around him in the reflection, but it’ll do.

Soon, they all stepped aside. He didn’t want them to leave yet, but he could still see them, waving to him, smiling, jumping around. Some were carried by others, the older siblings were giving the little ones piggy back rides.

Then Lance sees him.

He feels his heart elevate up, lodging itself in his throat, skipping a beat.

“Keith!”

He jumps, catching his breath as he turns around, expecting to see Keith’s confused expression on his face.

No one.

All he heard were the sounds of his own breathing and his heart pounding in rythm. All he sees is the emptiness of the training deck.

Lance’s breathing gradually slows down, looking back at the mirror to see if his eyes were playing tricks on him. The reflection of Keith was still standing there, smiling directly at Lance.

Why would he be there?

If Pidge saw her brother and father, and I saw my family, then wouldn’t this mirror just be showing images of…family? Or…Am I wrong? What’s going on?

He watches intensively, all his attention back on the reflection if him and Keith. Although Lance feels himself gaping at the mirror, his reflection shows him smiling softly at Keith, almost a smirk.

Then he sees it.

The reflection of Lance looks down, interlacing his fingers with Keith’s. He holds it up to his lips, leaving a soft kiss on Keith’s hand. The reflection of Keith smirks, cupping Lance’s face with his other hand, and smashes against his lips with his own. The two images moves their mouths together in synch, hands moving in places Lance wished he could do, the two pulling apart only to gasp for a breath of air, and continue to kiss like the world had stopped spinning and time had stopped running.

Lance steps back, startled by the quickened pace of his pulse, his heart racing faster just by looking at the image. Never would he thought of being jealous of himself, but at this point, he has now come to a conclusion that this mirror was evil.

“Lance?”

The voice was sudden, like it came out of nowhere, yanking Lance out of his daze. He jumps back, turning around to meet his eyes with the one and only Keith.

His mullet was all mussed up, causing him to run his fingers through it to keep it from falling down on his eyes. The bags underneath shows that he had just woken up, rubbing them with his other hand as he made an arch in his back to stretch.

“What are you doing?”

Lance hums in response, trying to block Keith’s vision away from the mirror.

“Nothing.” He says quickly, wincing at the pitch in his voice.

Keith raises an eyebrow, still unconvinced by the tone of Lance’s voice.

“Is that the mirror Pidge found?”

Lance turns to look over his shoulder, and sure enough, the reflection still showed the two of them canoodling, smiling, flirting, and hugging.

“I-It’s nothing,” Lance stutters again, internally slapping himself in the back of his mind with an invisible palm.

“C'mon, I just wanna see what I look like,” Keith chuckles, unaware of the small hoarse in his voice that really made Lance’s insides twist about.

Keith moves him aside with no effort, finding himself looking at the mirror with a small smile.

Lance panicks, attempting to explain what’s happening, and hopes Keith doesn’t get freaked out on what he sees in the mirror. “Look, it’s weird, I get it, but I saw those images–”

“Lance–”

“–and it wasn’t like I was in control of what I saw–

“Lance–”

“–and I don’t even know what was happening–”

Lance!

He stops rambling, directing his attention to a calm looking Keith, smiling. His eyes weren’t mad, and his expression hasn’t changed. Or maybe it was just because he was more tired than Lance thought he would be.

“What are you talking about?”

Lance blinks a couple times at him, wondering if Keith didn’t see what he saw. He hesitates before he asks, catching his bottom lip between his teeth, “The reflection? What do you see?”

“Me?” Keith answers, raising another curious eyebrow at Lance, “Isn’t that what mirrors are for?”

Lance blinks to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating from sleep deprivation, but looking at Keith–the real Keith–the tightness of his chest loosens. He lets out a deep breath, his eyes drifts back to the reflection of him and Keith holding hands, embracing each other like a couple would.

Maybe it was just him that could really see it, or maybe it was just the lack of sleep giving him all these illusions.

Lance lets out another sigh, breaking his eye contact with the mirror, and smiles at Keith, “Maybe I should go take a rest now.”

Keith gives him a small smirk, brushing the bangs of his hair back, “Heh, I recommend it.”

Lance sticks his tongue out, and leads himself out the entrance of the training deck. He turns back, expecting Keith to be following right behind him. Except he wasn’t, and instead, his eyes were focused on his reflection of the mirror.

“Aren’t you coming?”

Keith rips his attention away from the mirror, and his eyes were back to Lance with a bigger smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. He sighs, running his hand through his unruly hair again, “I’m coming.”

With one last glance at the mirror, Keith drags his legs towards Lance, brushing their shoulders against each other sleepily as the two of them walked back to their rooms, which were conveniently placed right next to each other.

Keith mumbles a ‘good night’ to Lance, right before his door shuts close right in front of him. Lance catches his face heat up, a blush creeping on his cheeks. With his hand on the door, he smiles at the door of Keith’s room, muttering a ‘good night, Mullet’ as if he could hear through walls. Lance slips inside his own room, with the sound of the door sliding closed behind him.

Little did he know that what Keith actually saw in the mysterious mirror wasn’t exactly what he told him.

He did see himself, that part was true. However, it was part of the truth. What Keith saw–what he really saw–was him and the tan and lanky figure of an obnoxiously loud and hilarious person named Lance. In the reflection, he saw himself–yes–he was smiling, and he was happy. The reflection of Lance went up behind Keith, and took him in his arms by the waist. Lance’s grip on Keith’s waist looked tight, but he seemed to sink himself further into the embrace.

Keith’s reflection put his hands over Lance’s, his smile widening at the touch. Even if it was just an image, he could still feel his heart pounding out of his chest like it was about to burst, but he kept his breathing steady. The reflection of Lance placed a soft kiss on his cheek, resting his chin on Keith’s shoulder.

And what the real Keith saw that made him not want to look away, was the minute his eyes drifted back down at their hands, and saw that there were silver rings on both him and Lance’s ring fingers.

His smile widened, and he heard Lance’s voice call him back to reality, but that didn’t make his smile go away.

“Aren’t you coming?” Lance had asked in that sleepy tone in his voice.

Maybe one day… Keith thought as he took a quick glance back at the reflection and seeing the image of him and Lance disappear as he tugs himself out of his trance, dragging his legs towards the real Lance. Maybe one day that’ll be my reality…

But hey, Lance didn’t need to know all that extra information, doesn’t he?

Besides, he’s got part of the truth already.

His || Jungkook || 0.19

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5 | 0.6 | 0.7 | 0.8 | 0.9 | 0.10 | 0.11 | 0.12 | 0.13 | 0.14 | 0.15 | 0.16 | 0.17 | 0.18 | 0.19 |

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THE HOT GUY AT THE CLUB (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

Request: Bellamy x reader where reader is friends with Octavia and one night the reader goes to a club and has sex with a really hot guy. The next day she goes to Octavia’s house and Octavia is thrilled because her older brother, whom you have never met, is finally back from college. You realize bellamy is the guy you hooked up with. Smut pls

PART TWO


The music was loud and his body was close. As you danced to the track blaring through the speakers, you felt the stranger’s fingers pressing into your hips from behind. And you loved it. 

You turned around, coming face to face with the boy who said hi at the bar a few minutes ago. He looked down at you and the smile he gave you nearly made you collapse. He was beautiful and the way he started a conversation so easily felt comfortable and natural. 
The hot sweaty bodies dancing around pushed you into his arms and the two of you danced closer under the flickering of the club lights. After getting to his house, everything was a blur of bare bodies and daring touches. 

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Picture Perfect - Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Title: Picture Perfect

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3,652

Warnings: None

Prompt: I got it! Can you do a fic where Sam dies while (Y/N) is pregnant with his child and so Dean helps her raise the child and they live the apple pie life and right when Dean wants to propose to (Y/N), Sam returns to life & ANGST. Please and thank you

“Mary!” Dean shouted “Breakfast’s ready, come on!” he said loud enough, hoping the little girl was going to hear him.

“Yes daddy!” she said in her childlike voice as she ran down the stairs. Her brown curls were bouncing as her green eyes sparkled with happiness the moment she spotted the food that lay on the table.

“Pie!” she exclaimed and the man chuckled at the girl.

“Yes princess!” he placed the last pancake on the place and put the frying pan away. He leaned down and picked her up, giving her a big kiss on the cheek as the little girl giggled at him.

“And it’s your favorite!” he said with a big grin and she squealed.

“Apple pie!”

“-Which you are not going to have for breakfast.” you said with a strict – but loving – mom look.

“What?” she pouted “Why?”

“Sweetheart.” you said softly, taking her from Dean’s arms “Pie is not right for breakfast and you know it. We’ve said you can have pie whenever you want to- as a treat. You will have to eat your meal first.” you said, tucking a few brown curls behind her ear.

“But daddy eats pie all the time- even for breakfast and you let him. Why can’t I?” the four-year-old gave you those puppy eyes that could actually do you anything they wanted.

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anonymous asked:

Oh sorry! That was insensitive of me to assume. But I'd love to hear the features of the foxes that you picture

oh my god don’t even worry about it, how many people are you going to ask “what do you think this character’s face looks like” and get the response “i presume they…have one” lmao. ANYWAY, this is about to get weird:

  • MATT: super tall and walks a tiny bit duck-footed. he bends down to talk to short people (kids. also, neil). has giant hands that he uses to illustrate his point when he talks. pleasant voice, not as low as you’d expect from such a big guy, and speaks with a bit of a new york accent. wears expensive aftershave that smells bright and fresh because he prefers it to the heavy, complex scents his father favours. laughs all the time from his belly, throws his head back when he does so his teeth show bright white against his skin.
  • AARON: wears khakis probably. maybe polo shirts occasionally? boy is kind of about pretending to be from a nicer background than he really is, but generally prefers ugly band tees when he isn’t trying to impress people. short (obviously), slimmer than his brother but still stocky. lots of fine bright gold body hair that curls on his arms and legs. actually styles his hair, with gel and a comb - it’s too long for spikes, but he likes it neat and out of his face. crosses his arms all the time, which makes him look very defensive. which he is, so. deep voice, permanently bored-sounding unless he’s furious or talking to katelyn
  • DAN: super short hair with a really tight curl. she has really amazing luminous brown skin with stretch marks that she doesn’t care about hiding. wears a lot of ¾ running tights and singlet tops to show off the incredible muscle definition of her shoulders (probably not intentional, but it works). average height for a woman. stands like she owns the earth under her feet. loves to wear colours - yellows, greens, soft pinks, etc. knows how to pitch her voice to be heard, so you always recognise her by it when she calls your name
  • ALLISON: tall for a lady, strides everywhere like she should be on a catwalk in ridiculous shoes thanks to the fact that she used to do exactly that. long dark blonde hair that she wears straightened perfectly down her back like a veil. sometimes she puts it into big loose waves too, for ‘casual’ days. wears complex, dramatic scents as her perfume, which works for her even in class (she’s the girl who smells good, according to her classmates). really direct stare - will look long enough into your eyes to make you uncomfortable. stands with her hands on her hips and her feet planted because she read once that it creates a ‘superhero’ effect on your psyche or something. in reality, it just makes her look intimidating, which is fine by her
  • NICKY: swoopy hair! like, dark brown and falls in floppy curls, which he kind of tries to style but mostly leaves (erik once told him it suits him like it is, so). nearly six foot and quite lanky with it. a very kinetic person who you would recognise at 100 paces by his body language - he speaks with his hands, whip quick. talks quickly but not necessary loudly. shuts down and curls inwards when he’s upset. naturally physical, will rest a hand on you without thinking about it, but thinks about it more now after everything with his cousins. flips his hair out of his eyes all the time and has a distinctive twist of his neck and jaw because of it
  • KEVIN: tall. looks like a dick. arrogant tilt of his jaw like he wants to glare down his nose at you. swaggery athlete’s walk. mobile but naturally downturned mouth, sometimes makes him look kind of sulky. half-samoan, courtesy of his father (!!) so darker skinned but probably obsesses about sunscreen anyway in case he wrinkles. very clean-cut in a way that aaron wants to be, hair always carefully groomed and paired with neat clothes. probably mostly wears athletic gear though. broad shoulders, narrow waist, quiet tenor voice, doesn’t blink enough when he looks at you which is only interesting to weird obsessive exy players (most people find it a little too intense)
  • RENEE: the shortest of the girls (5′3″, round about). doesn’t show much skin, but has a smattering of freckles across her face. always smiling. curvy build, broad-hipped but matched with slim, toned legs from cardio. conservative clothes in simple colours. naturally dark-haired, and her roots sometimes show through when she’s too busy to redo her hair. prone to patient silence and stillness, but fiddles with the cross at her throat when she’s anxious or pensive. speaks softly, has a smooth and measured alto voice, the melodic kind you can imagine singing a hymn or lullaby. wears a light floral perfume at her throat and wrists
  • ANDREW: pale green-and-gold eyes, heavy-lidded with disinterest. built like a small tank. preternaturally still when he stops and yet walks everywhere with purpose. light on his feet. doesn’t give a shit about his hair on a daily basis, but doesn’t like it too long so wears it short and messy. it’s medium blonde, was probably white-blonde when he was a little kid. crosses his arms, somehow manages to look threatening - unlike his brother. deep flat voice that you can’t help but listen to because of the deliberate way he speaks. smells like cigarette smoke, sometimes sweat, and the cheap citrus body wash/shampoo shit he buys which is pervasive and kind of weird on him
  • NEIL: his scars are the first thing you notice about him. all lean muscle, narrow shoulders and hips with a long fine neck. sharp fox-jawed face that isn’t masked by his way-overgrown hair. freckles everywhere. hooks a finger into the opposite edge of the bands he wears on his forearms when he thinks. a graceful but efficient mover. gestures when he talks but hasn’t noticed, and it works well for him because people listen. plush mouth that sometimes gives away what he’s thinking even when the rest of him is unreadable. has inherited some of kevin’s dickish stance thanks to overexposure. smells a lot like andrew, because of shared smoke breaks and also sharing body wash

They portalled into the loft, bags laden in each hand, Magnus with a soft smile on his face whilst Alec gestured at the bag in Magnus’ hand. Or rather the teddy bear in one of the bags Magnus was currently holding. A teddy bear that was easily half their size and was definitely taller than their guest—rather, his guest, seeing that Alexander still hadn’t moved into the loft yet.

A guest Magnus had insisted on getting the teddy for.

“Seriously Magnus. Why would you get her something so big?”

Magnus ignored the words, his mind working fast at the spells he was planning on casting on said bear.

“Because it’s the perfect size Alexander.” He spun around and caught the half raised eyebrow that Alec leveled on him.

“Seriously? That thing probably weighs more than her.”

“And she will love it. Won’t you sweetheart,” Magnus crooned, causing Alec to turn around as the two of them met Madzie’s cautious eyes. She hung by the door, eyes dark and suspicious as she stared at the pristine white fluffy teddy that Magnus carried.

She looked so much like Alec had when he’d first spotted Magnus heading into the store to pick up the teddy bear, that Magnus found the corners of his mouth tilting up into a smile.

The suspicion still remained in her eyes, but she returned his smile, tentatively.

Magnus spun around and crowed. “See? She loves it.”

Alec snorted. “She’s smiling back at you Magnus.” He gestured at the teddy and smiled. “Not at your gift.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “But that’s because the gift isn’t ready yet.”

Keep reading

Monsters

Requested: Please do some daddy Shawn.

A/N: I don’t know why I try writing fluffy things, because they’re awful most times. I also changed the lyrics of LOFP a little, sorry.

Word count: 2,066

A faint noise rang in my ears, but not nearly loud enough to pulled me out of my heavy sleep. Only seconds later, I felt the faint squeezes on my arms. When I finally managed to open them, the room was too dark for me to see anything properly.

I rubbed my sleepy eyes, feeling just how sore they were. I blinked a few times, before finally being able to see shadows in the dark bedroom.

“Daddy, daddy” she cried again, forcing down my gaze.

Keep reading

Over Dramatic l Tom Holland

Summary: Pregnant reader gets a little over dramatic when things don’t go her own way when making a special meal Tom and her’s anniversary dinner.

Warning: Like…a few swear words

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

A/N: This is my first Tom Holland imagine so just excuse the horrible writing and all.


Originally posted by parkery

Today marked Tom and Y/N’s five year anniversary and Y/N wanted to do something special for her husband and father to her future child. She stare down at the instructions in her cook book and followed them step by step. She had never been too good at cooking.

Between Tom filming in Atlanta for Infinity War and him finishing up the press tour for Spiderman: Homecoming, Y/N rarely ever got to see him. But alas, he promised he would be home for their special five year anniversary.

The thought of being able to be with Tom in just a few hours, excited Y/N. She wanted everything to be perfect for his arrival. She called Harrison, Tom’s best mate, and asked him to pick up Tom from the airport while she prepared everything back home. She set up a nice candle lit dinner and was planning on making his favorite dish.

“Add…one cup of oil,” Y/N read from the book, glancing between the book and the dish. She followed the instructions precisely and when she was done, she carefully put the casserole dish into the oven and set a time.

She wiped her hands clean on her apron, her hands brushing over the small baby bump. She made her way into the living room and flopped down onto the couch. Y/N glanced at the clock and made a mental note in her head that the dish needed to be ready before seven.

She had been running all over town today, picking up the ingredients for the dinner and the decorations. So it was no surprise that she fell asleep instantly. She was not awoken by the sound of the oven timer going off, but by the smell of smoke. 

Y/N’s eyes snapped open and she sat up immediately. “Oh shit,” she raced into the kitchen, now seeing the smoke leaking from the oven. She opened the oven and the kitchen was quickly over taken in smoke. With mittens on both hands, she reached inside and grabbed the dish, pulling it out and threw it on top of their stove. “Shit,” she cursed to herself, now staring at the burnt meal.

She kicked the oven door and immediately regretted it. She clutched her foot in pain as she felt tears cloud her vision. Then she remembered:

“The pudding!” She raced over to the refrigerator and threw the door open. She scrunched her nose in disgust before reaching in and pulling out the so called ‘vanilla pudding.’

She had been craving it recently and asked her mother for the recipe. When making it though, it was suppose to turn solid. And now here it lay, liquidized in her sink.

“Shit, Tom’s gonna kill me,” she muttered before pouring the pudding down the drain. As if things couldn’t get any worse, she heard the sound of glass shattering from the dinning room.

She raced over into the dinning room and gazed at the catastrophe in front of her. Tessa, Tom’s dog, held the corner of the table cloth in her mouth and was slowly pulling it backwards, resulting in the dishes sliding off the table and onto the floor.

“Tessa. Stop,” she begged. When she took a step forward, Tessa bolted, dragging the entire setting with her. The sound of all of Y/N’s dishes, crashing to the floor. “No,” she choked back a sob.

She made her way back to the kitchen and opened the wine cabinet. Just her luck, it was empty. Tom had advised her not to drink anything while pregnant, saying it could ‘hurt the baby.’ But now she was desperate. Nothing had gone her way and Tom would be home in a few minutes.

Y/N lean against the countertop and let herself sink to the floor. She hugged her knees and cried to herself. She didn’t even hear the sound of their apartment door opening nor the sound of Tom calling for her.

When Tom walked into the kitchen, he saw his loving wife in a different position on the floor. She lay on her back, against the cool tiles. Her arms and legs spread out as she cried loudly.

“Darling? What’s wrong?” She kicked she right foot slightly in a fit. “Come on, love. Use your words.”

“N-Nothing w-went as planned tonight,” she cried.

“What do you mean by that, love?”

“I was g-going to cook y-your favorite meal but instead, I burnt it,” Tom stepped over her leg and passed the doorway. He went over to stand near her head and he just so happened to look into the sink. 

“What’s this junk in the sink?” When hearing the nickname for her food, she cried even louder.

“It was suppose to be pudding,” Tom raising his eyebrows at her. She brought her hands up and covered her face with them. “I’m such a failure. I wanted tonight to be special and instead, I ruined it.”

Tom knelt down and cupped her tear stained cheek. “Hey, now. Don’t think negative. I’m sure we have something else in this house that we can eat.”

“B-But I wanted for you to h-have a good home cooked m-meal for once. You’ve been working so hard recently. You deserved this and I screwed it up. I am suppose to be a good h-housewife. I am suppose to cook for you. I’m suppose to take care of you,” she sobbed, gazing up into his big brown eyes.

“Well, darling. Nobody’s perfect,” he said, shaking his head. “And you do take care of me, more than you think.”

“How?”

“Well…you keep me going every day you’re not with me. You take care of my parents and brothers for me when I am not around. You,” he gently placed his hand on top of her stomach. “You’re taking care of our child. You’re carrying life!”

Y/N let out a small laugh and sniffed up her tears. Tom brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and continued:

“You are the most amazing, talented, and most beautiful woman I have ever met. I owe you everything,” he praised. He laced his arm around her shoulder and pulled her up into a sitting position.

Tom leaned back against the cupboards and pulled Y/N into his lap. Her forehead tucked into the crook of his neck and her legs draped over his. He rubbed her back with one hand and cradled her thigh in the other. He turned his head and pressed a gently kiss to her head.

“I love you so much. You literally have no idea,” he smiled. Y/N giggled slightly and nuzzled her face deeper into his neck, placing a kiss at the base of his neck.

“I love you too.”

“Happy Anniversary, love.”

Harry Potter Remake

In all likelihood, one day, there will be a remake of the Harry Potter Series. Just thinking that sentence makes my nose wrinkle and my insides twist uncomfortably; I have mixed feelings about this, but nevertheless I’ll be right there to watch it along with all of the other then fifty and sixty somethings that grew up on Harry Potter.

Maybe it wont be movies, maybe it’ll be a tv show.

Maybe it’ll be directed by someone who grew up reading the books under their bedcovers with a cheap plastic flashlight that you could hear the batteries clacking around inside, until the light started flickering at 2am. Someone who waited on their eleventh birthday with wide eyes searching the skies for their letter 

Maybe Harry will have green eyes and messy hair, and Hermione will have brown skin, buckteeth, and a big gorgeous afro that makes her tiny eleven year old self several inches taller.

Maybe Sirius will have a leather jacket, wear classic rock t-shirts, and be played by someone who is 35 

Maybe the wizards will all wear gorgeous robes, robes that are spangled and brightly colored along with strange and somehow alien hats. I mean, Cornelius Fudge in a lime green boulder hat? Dumbledore in purple boots? Tonks with shifting rainbow hair? Purebloods in intimidating, immaculately tailored robes with high collars and billowing overcoats or capes? How much fun could a costume department have? Maybe Harry Potter season 1 will get an emmy for costume design.

ok I’m done with the costume stuff wait no - PADMA AND PARVARTI PATIL DESERVED BETTER AT THE YULE BALL THAN THOSE UGLY ASS ORANGE AND PINK THINGS. THEY COULD’VE HAD GORGEOUS SARIS. I DON’T KNOW MUCH ABOUT INDIAN FASHION BUT I KNOW THAT IT’S BETTER THAN THOSE FLORESCENT POLYESTER BARGAIN BIN MONSTROSITIES 

Maybe Ginny will have time to become a well rounded and developed character in the remake, often seen hanging with Luna and Neville, hexing bullies, kicking ass at Quidditch, getting much better grades in potions than any Weasley should, loving small fluffy animals (her pygmy puff was named Arnold!), being comfortable in her sexuality and refusing to be slut shamed by anyone, least of all her big brothers, burning all her old diaries after Tom, growing up at Hogwarts with the specter of 16 year old Tom Riddle hanging over her after first year, leading the DA with Neville and Luna in her sixth year, whispering “fuck you Tom” whenever she does something to defy Voldemort’s reign

Maybe it can be addressed that Neville’s family dropped him out a goddamn window and pushed him off the Blackpool pier to prove he had magic and how incredibly damaging that was maybe we can address Harry’s abuse while we’re at it

Maybe the tv show will employ a couple of classics majors to research and create new spells to supplement the relative few we see in the books

Maybe they could build languages for the magical creatures like the Game of Thrones team did. Gobbledygook, anyone? Mermish? 

And MAYBE the actor playing Dumbledore will have the chance to calmly deliver the line: 

“Harry, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fiyah Fire?”