i am so sorry guys

anonymous asked:

I know for sure you used to ship Bamon and I know you are the QUEEN of Bonkai, I also know you write fanfiction. So, I was wondering is a smutty good bonkaimon fanfic possible? Because it would be appreciated and beautiful.

“used to ship bamon”

hon, I STILL DO & ALWAYS WILL

but yeah i ship bamon/bonkai like i’m about to sink

as for your bonkaimon threesome wish, it may happen, but i gotta finish my other bonkai/bonjake oneshots first ;)

Title: Lead us home

Author: Mod. Grunge

Pairing: aou!Pietro x Reader (no powers mentioned by the requester)

Prompt: ( x )

Trigger Warnings: Mild Panic Attack

Genres: Romance, Fluff

Words: 1, 386

Comments: Hello there, guys! I am so terribly sorry for making all of you wait for your requests to be filled. I am also sorry if this isn’t exactly accurate—I haven’t been to all that many weddings, but I think I have heard enough to be able to get the gist of it. I really do hope this is what you had in mind and that you enjoyed it, annonie! Please remember that you are wonderful and so precious to this world!

There’s something stuck in your throat and no matter how many times you swallow, it doesn’t go down, making you gasp for air and walk in circles around the waiting room assigned to the bride in the little church Tony reserved for the day somewhere in the south of France. Perhaps if you weren’t so utterly nervous, you would have laughed about the cheesy setting and how sappy all of them are when it comes to romance and the like. But you’re more than nervous, close to shaking and the only thing you can actually think about is how the fuck will you manage to walk all the way to the altar without tripping over your unnecessary long dress that Natasha somehow managed to find a world-renowned designer to create it, last minute notice.

Not knowing what to do with your hands anymore—other than helplessly wiggling them in front of your face—you intertwine your fingers and place them in your lap as you sit on a spare chair that isn’t  home to decorations and clothes, squeezing the life out of them. You’re not getting cold feet; this isn’t a revelation of sorts that you were just hopelessly convincing yourself this is the path you would willingly choose for yourself. No, not at all. This is you realizing that there’s nothing else you’d rather be than here, surrounded by all the people who matter and who have shaped you into the person you are today and the thought is so terrifying, so goddamn frightening, you wonder if this is what happiness should really feel like.

You’re being ridiculous, you know that, but you just can’t really grasp the fact that everything from this point onwards, is going to change. You can’t get over the fact that no longer will you and Pietro be addressed as two different people, but as one, over the fact that you will share a home and everything will finally make sense and you will truly and honestly belong somewhere, a place only for the two of you.

Taking a deep breath, you carefully slap your face with your hands as to not mess up the makeup Wanda and Natasha have spent excruciating hours perfecting it, and stand up, hands now on your hips with a determined look on your face—you’re going to put that veil over your head, grab that bouquet of flowers and rock the church, because this is your day, you deserve this and you’ll be damned if anything or anybody, including yourself, will ruin it.

And that’s exactly what you do. You walk to the human-sized mirror, inspect every single detail of your dress and posture, extend your arm to grab the veil that’s on the little table besides it and put it over your head and you don’t really think you have ever thought of your smile as beautiful until now. You’re glowing; your eyes have turned into a slightly lighter shade and it feels like your curls are being played with by the wind that’s practically nonexistent and you somehow wish you could immortalize this moment forever, the moment you finally became the protagonist of your own fairy-tale instead of the side-kick character who always gets the short ends of things.

Just as you are admiring yourself and straightening your back to get into the correct position to walk down the altar as gracefully as possible, somebody knocks on the door, pulling you out of your trance. For Pietro’s sake, you hope it isn’t his little impatient ass trying to get a peek of you. You may not have been to all that many weddings in your life, but you know about enough to be aware of how bad of an omen that is.

“I’m coming!”, you yell, pulling up the ends of your dress as to not step on them and rip it just before the big moment and stroll to the door, pulling it open with such force, you are amazed by how strong the hinges truly are.

To both yours and Pietro’s wellbeing, it’s not him, but Tony, holding up a bottle of what you presume to be an expensive as fuck brand of champagne that you wouldn’t be able to afford on your good days, sporting a shit eating grin and a crooked bowtie. The scene is humourous, but you can’t exactly manage to get yourself to externalize the laughter bubbling inside your chest, out of fear you might burst out crying; in theory you are more than prepared for this wedding to start, but in practice, you’ve got a long way to go before you get your body to agree to it.

Stepping aside, you let him enter the room, poking your head out to see if somebody else is there (there’s nobody) and close the door, making your way to the chair you were sitting in just moments ago, ready to jump out of the window.

“I thought you might need a little boost before walking out of that door, kiddo. God knows I needed one when I married Pepper.” Tony says, handing you the bottle before leaning against the table, arms crossed over his chest and observing you.

“Thank you”.

You throw your head back and take some big gulps, scrunching up your nose at the bitter taste, but continuing nevertheless, until you’re sure you have the right amount of alcohol in your system to ease the tense muscles.

After you place the bottle on the table, far enough from the edge to make sure you won’t break it if your legs decide to give under you in the last moment, the two of you sit in a comfortable and understanding silence a few more moments, before Tony pushes himself from the table and extends you his arm, a warm, gentle smile on his face encouraging you to take it and enjoy your moment.

You don’t think you will ever be able to come up with the right words to express the gratitude you feel towards all of the Avengers, you think as you slowly make your way to the altar and to your future husband, listening attentively to any sounds as Tony places your hand over your to reassure you. Wanda with her constant silent understanding and silent ways of showing you she’s there. Natasha with her priceless life lessons and nurturing nature that comes up any time she feels you were in need of some girl time. Bruce with his soft smiles and cheesy ways of showing you that everything will be alright. Clint with his fatherly ways of taking care of you and making sure you have everything you need. Tony with his constant support. Tony the one who became your father somewhere along the way and took it upon himself to guide you throughout your life in the absence of your parents. Steve with his old-fashioned ways and moral support and incredibly tasty pancakes that were never absent in the morning. Sam and Rhodey with their humour and friendship and all the other people who made it their life mission to include you in everything.

And Pietro.

Pietro with his disheveled hair, smile full of teeth and sarcastic words. Pietro the one with warm hugs and minty breath ghosting over the back of your neck. Pietro will all of his love reserved just for you. Pietro, the one full of hope and dreams and kindness. Pietro—the one whom you will be married to.

Somehow along the way, everything became a blur of flashing images, lighten up faces looking at you with adoration and pride, comforting words being whispered into your ears as you tried to pay attention to what the priest was saying, muffled sobs being concealed behind a handkerchief as Tony tried to suppress them and not attract attention to himself and all you can truly remember from beginning to end is how Pietro looked at you, how scared he was himself yet how unyielding he was in marrying you and you don’t think that your wedding day could have gone any way better than having him pour his entire soul into your body as the church erupted into claps.

Yes, you’re definitely where you belong and there’s not much left of the road until the both of you reach home.

I swear to god I will actually make progress on this goddamn fic guys I am so sorry I have no idea where my drive went.  It’s like I can’t write if I’m not actively miserable and going insane.

4

Kristoff vs Hans: Definitions of Love.

Now let’s just forget Hans was a douche for once second. Both men in this movies played with the meaning of Love. But apparently, they both played with very different definitions of love.

Hans’s (and actually even Anna’s) definition of love, was pulling every pick up line in the book, flirting and making the other giggle. It was the man taking the girl and lifting her off into a magical night of dancing in fun. It was singing the romantic duet, it’s how you know both characters are in love right? It’s setting up a marriage, because isn’t that the purest form of love? But it also includes both of them doing their part, convincing the other that they are meant to be. Because how can two people be in love if the other doesn’t feel the same way?

Kristoff’s was the opposite. He did’t need cliches. He didn’t need the romance or the dancing. He didn’t (unfortunately) even need the romantic duet! It was all in his eyes and actions. He didn’t try to get Anna to fall for him, he didn’t try to seduce her. For him love is care. Anna has to be okay, Anna has to be safe. Anna has to be happy.He didn’t care that Anna didn’t feel the same way. That wasn’t the important thing to him. Anna just had to be safe.

Kristoff didn’t race down the mountain because he could kiss Anna and prove to her that he was her true love and he was meant to kiss her.

He raced down because Anna was in danger, because if she died while he was leaving, he would never be able to live with himself.

And that’s the love that’s true. The love for HER.

► Destiel || 10 Things I Hate About You 

So this is a little project I managed to create over the weekend! This is for the cutest, loveliest, most wonderful person ever. This is for Bo.

I post this via tumblr video player now, because for some reason it’s not working with the youtube link. To watch it on youtube click here. Enjoy :)