i want to drink something

anonymous asked:

Opinion on Danvid?))) (i'm an another person)

D U D E

I LOVE DANVID WITH ALL MY HEART

i like it with the redemption arc daniel where he comes back as a twink full of regret but i also like the idea of daniel having an obsessive crush on david and david doesn’t realize it until it’s too late 

“Good Morning”
“How was your day?”
“Be careful”
“Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe”
“Sweet dreams”
“How are you?”
“I hope you’re feeling better”
“Have a good day today!”
“:)”
“I miss you”
“Good night”
“Can you come over?”
“Can I come over?”
“Can I see you?”
“Can I call you?”
“You’re beautiful”
“Want something to drink?”
“Watch your step”
“Let’s watch a movie”
“What are you up to?”
“How is your day so far?”
“It will be okay”
“I’m here for you”
“Do you need anything?”
“Are you hungry?”
“I just wanted to hear your voice”
“You just made my day”

You don’t have to hear “I Love You” to know that someone does. Listen carefully. People speak from the heart more often than you think.

—  Blocklava
4

Wrex’s kids grow up with the best bedtime stories

and Shepard’s going to give Garrus a stress ulcer yet you just wait

(my go-to fighting method in me3 was to say “fuck it” to my guns and just biotic charge/punch anything that I could get my hands on, brutes very much included)

LOOK AT THIS.

LOOK AT THIS AND GASP IN WONDER.

The amazing @saladsnek made this for me and I am in love.

They recently took chibi and sketch commissions - I reblogged the post a week or two ago.  It was $5 for this masterpiece.  FIVE FREAKING DOLLARS.  WHY DO YOU NOT HAVE ONE YET BECAUSE YOU SHOULD.

Now excuse me, I’m going to grab my phone, sit on the couch and stare at this with shining eyes. If you need me any time in the next hour, that’s where I’ll be.

Gift giving

My aunt’s husband is a total fucking dickhead.

For some background, my mother’s family is Guyanese and mixed with Scottish, German and Amerindian, but mainly look black. My mother married a white Irish man (my dad) and I came out looking super duper pale with blue eyes and blonde hair. My brothers are both much darker because being biracial means getting a grabbag of genes.

My aunt (my mother’s sister) married a Nigerian immigrant who is lazy and racist. He came over for a PhD course (which he only passed because my aunt wrote his thesis and in the thirty years since has refused to work) and his distaste at being married into the same family as a white guy has manifested in a number of ways, from telling others that my dad has shouted racial abuse at him (witnesses confirmed he absolutely did not) to refusing to even speak to me because of my skin colour.

A few years ago he was shouting about something completely false and when I told him he was wrong, he tried to physically attack me for being ‘disrespectful’ and had to be held back by my dad and uncles. He was in his fifties and I was a sixteen year old girl.

I later heard from my grandfather that after he yelled at my aunt’s husband, he (aunt’s husband) said that if he faced any consequences (like being banned from family dinners or told off again for his treatment of me) he would take my cousins, leave my aunt and go back to Nigeria.

It’s been a few years since then. I’m an adult now, and I’ve steered clear of as many holidays as possible. I didn’t want my grandfather to have to choose between protecting me and seeing my cousins again. My grandfather made it clear he was on my side and would’ve physically removed the asshole from his home, but, of course, that would result in probably never seeing my cousins again. I didnt want him to make that choice.

My grandfather died this year. It was a pretty awful illness and I spent most of my time out of work inside of the hospital with him. My dad was there too - his father-in-law was the closest he had to a father. My grandfather taught me many things. Including that you shouldn’t allow people to ruin things for you. Things like family gatherings.

Now the thing about this dude is, on top of being lazy as shit, he’s super entitled. He fully believes that he is head of the family, despite everyone hating him and ignoring him. He believes he is owed deference and respect from all. He told my aunt that since I didn’t show him respect, she and my cousins were no longer to buy my xmas presents. I haven’t received a single one from them in years. So I set my plan into motion.

I don’t get paid a lot, but I saved from October onwards. I filled the tree in my grandfather’s old house with presents, one for every person in my family - bar one.

This morning, Christmas Day, I stood under that tree with my gifts in my arms and I gave every person there a present I had spent hours picking out. I went up to each individual, passing him several times while he looked at the gifts greedily, and handed everyone something they would’ve wanted. I got to drink in the look of guilt on the faces of my cousins and my aunt as I received one solitary present (from my mother’s brother) as they received a bunch from me. It was delicious.

Finally, there was one gift left under the tree - a single envelope. It said 'for all your help looking after grandfather’. I handed it to him. Inside were return Eurostar tickets to Paris for a long weekend. “Oh!” I said. “I’ve made a mistake! That’s my extra present to [Dad]!” And indeed, there was my father’s name on the tickets. He got to see every wonderful gift I got everyone else while he received nothing - nothing from me, nothing from my brothers who hate how he treats me, nothing from my uncles who hate him and only ever gave him things because my grandfather wanted to keep the peace to continue seeing his grandkids.

The cherry on top? I received a special gift from a friend today. He bought two square feet of land for me and an aristocratic title. I am now a Lady and even though it barely means anything, my family has been pretend bowing and scraping to me while ignoring him and his demands for respect and he’s now sulking and refusing to speak to anyone.

Merry fucking Christmas, Tony.

I was inspired by @lazulisong‘s utter brilliance.

The moment Takeshi learned of Yuuri’s ginormous crush on Victor Nikiforov, he lifted Yuuri’s sweatshirt, took a big handful of belly, and shouted loud enough to wake Yuuri’s dead grandmother, “Keep dreaming, round boy! Victor would never want a tubbo like you!”

Oh, but if only Takeshi knew that Victor Nikiforov not only wants a tubbo like Yuuri but that he cried when Yuuri announced that it was time to drop the weight in preparation for the new season. Cried actual tears. The kind of tears usually reserved for deaths in the family or losing everything in a fire. The kind he shed when he thought Yuuri was breaking up with him. Bitter, heart-wrenching tears that leave him red-faced and heaving, then stumbling around hours later, wrung completely dry.

To be fair, Victor cries like that about literally everything—Yuuri landing a quad, surprise candlelight dinners, children in oversized parkas, murals that feature the color cerulean, dogs in movies (not just when they die, but when they’re there at all), the fourth ringtone on his new phone, daffodils, the word ‘sorbet’, and aerosol deodorant—but what Takeshi doesn’t know won’t prove him right, so.

“Maybe you can postpone it another week,” Victor mumbles into the kitchen table, where he fell into a chair and just sort of… deflated everywhere. He’s lying on top of the newspaper. Yuuri really wants to read it.

“You told Yurio he should’ve started training two weeks ago.”

Victor gives a despondent shrug. “He should’ve. Instead he’s been spending all his time Skyping with that degenerate.”

“You love Otabek. You hugged him and said you were proud to welcome him to the family, then you dumped a bag of condoms in his lap and cried because—and I quote—you were trusting him to take care of your most precious child.” And then a mortified, blushing Yurio slammed the airport shuttle door on Victor’s fingers.

Victor’s bandaged hand lifts and cuts through the air as though it were a tiny boat sailing on a choppy sea. Yuuri isn’t entirely sure what it means, but whatever it is? It’s suitably dramatic. “Yurio’s different.”

“Except not really.” Across the table, Yuuri studies the part in his hair, which looks a little… wider than usual. And sadder. It looks like a frown. He wants to lean forward to touch it, but that would do nothing except set Victor off again, and at the moment there isn’t enough fluid in Victor’s body to sustain him as it is. Instead, he pushes his own glass of orange juice toward him. “Vitya, please, drink something and replenish, would you? I don’t want to even think about what the headlines would say tomorrow if I let you pass out while we’re running this evening.”

At that, Victor lifts his head. Yuuri could skate an entire program based on the sheer betrayal on Victor’s face. “We’re running already? But we can’t! Not yet! I'm—You’re not ready. Another week. I’m putting my foot down, as your coach.”

“You’re a terrible coach,” Yuuri says. “I mean that. I want that on record. I can’t believe I’ve put my career in your hands. Can I fire you?”

“I’m a good husband, though, so it all cancels out,” Victor points out, which, okay, fair point. And he proves it by sliding both of his hands across the table and making grabby motions with his fingers. Well, one hand does. The bandaged one looks like a mummified sock puppet. “Don’t leave meeeeee.”

“I’m not leav—” Yuuri pauses, then rolls his eyes so hard he’s almost positive that he sprains something. “Oh. You were talking to my—”

“Squishyyyyyy.”

It comes out on the back of a long, sinuous whine. At Yuuri’s feet, Makkachin stirs, and he places his foot gently on her back and rubs until she settles. “I’m not going to bust my ass twice as hard just so you can manhandle me whenever you want.”

Victor’s head thunks back onto the table between his outstretched arms. “But you’re so soft and squishy, and it’s my favorite, and soon you’re going to be all bony and hard.”

“You’ve never once complained about me being hard,” Yuuri deadpans, then hides his face in his hands, because honestly. Victor cackles dementedly. “Look, I know you like my… well. I appreciate it, but I really need to start training yesterday if we’re going for the gold.”

Victor throws himself off of the table and drapes himself backward over his chair with a groan that honestly deserves an award. “Fine! Fine. Nobody ever told me that so much of being married is making sacrifices.”

It would be so easy for Yuuri to just turn his head and stare at the framed cross-stitch on the microwave that reads Sacrifice is one of the purest and most selfless ways to love someone. Practice it daily. Instead, he nudges the glass of juice a little closer, because, well. Sacrifice.

“Buck up,” Yuuri says cheerfully. “I’ll be back to being squishy before you know it.”

With a grumble, Victor reaches for the glass.

And while no one could ever accuse Yuuri of being the type to hold a grudge, he can’t deny the small, dark part of him that wants to call up Takeshi right this second and crow, “Round Boy got his, you jerk!”

Gift giving

My aunt’s husband is a total fucking dickhead.

For some background, my mother’s family is Guyanese and mixed with Scottish, German and Amerindian, but mainly look black. My mother married a white Irish man (my dad) and I came out looking super duper pale with blue eyes and blonde hair. My brothers are both much darker because being biracial means getting a grabbag of genes.

My aunt (my mother’s sister) married a Nigerian immigrant who is lazy and racist. He came over for a PhD course (which he only passed because my aunt wrote his thesis and in the thirty years since has refused to work) and his distaste at being married into the same family as a white guy has manifested in a number of ways, from telling others that my dad has shouted racial abuse at him (witnesses confirmed he absolutely did not) to refusing to even speak to me because of my skin colour.

A few years ago he was shouting about something completely false and when I told him he was wrong, he tried to physically attack me for being ‘disrespectful’ and had to be held back by my dad and uncles. He was in his fifties and I was a sixteen year old girl.

I later heard from my grandfather that after he yelled at my aunt’s husband, he (aunt’s husband) said that if he faced any consequences (like being banned from family dinners or told off again for his treatment of me) he would take my cousins, leave my aunt and go back to Nigeria.

It’s been a few years since then. I’m an adult now, and I’ve steered clear of as many holidays as possible. I didn’t want my grandfather to have to choose between protecting me and seeing my cousins again. My grandfather made it clear he was on my side and would’ve physically removed the asshole from his home, but, of course, that would result in probably never seeing my cousins again. I didnt want him to make that choice.

My grandfather died this year. It was a pretty awful illness and I spent most of my time out of work inside of the hospital with him. My dad was there too - his father-in-law was the closest he had to a father. My grandfather taught me many things. Including that you shouldn’t allow people to ruin things for you. Things like family gatherings.

Now the thing about this dude is, on top of being lazy as shit, he’s super entitled. He fully believes that he is head of the family, despite everyone hating him and ignoring him. He believes he is owed deference and respect from all. He told my aunt that since I didn’t show him respect, she and my cousins were no longer to buy my xmas presents. I haven’t received a single one from them in years. So I set my plan into motion.

I don’t get paid a lot, but I saved from October onwards. I filled the tree in my grandfather’s old house with presents, one for every person in my family - bar one.

This morning, Christmas Day, I stood under that tree with my gifts in my arms and I gave every person there a present I had spent hours picking out. I went up to each individual, passing him several times while he looked at the gifts greedily, and handed everyone something they would’ve wanted. I got to drink in the look of guilt on the faces of my cousins and my aunt as I received one solitary present (from my mother’s brother) as they received a bunch from me. It was delicious.

Finally, there was one gift left under the tree - a single envelope. It said 'for all your help looking after grandfather’. I handed it to him. Inside were return Eurostar tickets to Paris for a long weekend. “Oh!” I said. “I’ve made a mistake! That’s my extra present to [Dad]!” And indeed, there was my father’s name on the tickets. He got to see every wonderful gift I got everyone else while he received nothing - nothing from me, nothing from my brothers who hate how he treats me, nothing from my uncles who hate him and only ever gave him things because my grandfather wanted to keep the peace to continue seeing his grandkids.

The cherry on top? I received a special gift from a friend today. He bought two square feet of land for me and an aristocratic title. I am now a Lady and even though it barely means anything, my family has been pretend bowing and scraping to me while ignoring him and his demands for respect and he’s now sulking and refusing to speak to anyone.

Merry fucking Christmas, Tony.

Give me violent, painful, monstrous transformations. And when they change back, let it be just as gruesome and heartbreaking as the initial change. I want them shivering on the floor, muscles smasming as their body puts itself back together, fever making their bruised skin flush an ugly red as they sweat and it’s so hot maybe they’re steaming. I want them barely-conscious, exhausted to the bone, desperate for something to drink, and feeling so, so hungry. In the aftermath of the more extreme transformations, they’ve burned up so much body fat and maybe even muscle mass that they’re nearly skeletal. Give them someone to take care of them, to murmur soothingly as they’re cleaned up and tucked into bed, someone who holds them up while they sip at some broth and water, or who holds their hands while IVs are inserted, to replenish lost blood and fluids. They need someone to talk them through the horror of the transformation, to reassure them that they’re still loved and wanted.
Give me gross transformations and tender, gentle, heartbreakinkingly sweet aftercare.

the houses

 (a rather abstract description of the houses, what they could look like and things they contain)

first house: You open a giant, dark wooden door. The knob is hot as you touch it but you don’t flinch and enter a even hotter room, you immediately start sweating. The air is burning and the windows are wide open. Bright light is shining trough some kind of living room, full of possessions of the creature living there. You look around and already know who must be the owner. Still,you ask who lives there and the strong Aries enters the room, his aura is radiant, vibrant, lively, present. “I am life”, he speaks clearly. “I am energy, physical appearance,the self, the will and the doing. I show you how you approach the world and open yourself to it.” 

second house: This door is made out of silver, with blue ornaments. It looks beautiful and must be of high value. With a ‘click’ the door opens, but it really is heavy, so you got to put more effort into the act of opening it. The room is rather minimalist, but some of the furniture and paintings must be old and very expensive. The Taurus stands in front of the high windows and looks out of it, the eyes tired, even a bit melancholic. “Is there something I can do for you?”, the Taurus asked, the voice deep and kind of magnetic. “I want to know who you are”, you ask slowly. The Taurus blinks slowly and answers: “I am development, self worth and win and loss, materialistic and emotional safety, setting limits and fighting for protection.” 

third house: As you come closer to the third door you can hear people speaking. Or at least someone who is discussing something with someone. Voices come and voices go, you are wondering how many people might be in there? The door looks asymmetrical and as you enter the room you are not sure if it’s an office or plainly a full room. As you look around you see that there are radios everywhere, from old to new and each of them is turned on. So that must be the voices. Notes over notes are gathered on the floor and walls, between them some  pictures pinned to the wall of different people. Right in the middle is the Gemini, both of them talking in a heat with a coffee in the right and a pencil in the left hand, constantly taking notes. “So, you must be..?”
“The Gemini!”, one answers excited. The other one continues, more thoughtful: “We are communication, the image, the way of thinking, and -”
“..the ability to adjust, the close environment, small adventures, our neighbors as well as-” 
“Siblings!”, the other one finishes the sentence and both of them laugh, clear as a bell.

fourth house: You hold on before opening this door. It’s made out of colored, dark blue wood, the knob is glowing and the night sky is painted on the dark background. As you open the door everything seems quiet, but you hear someone humming a lullaby, quietly. The cancer sits in the middle of the darkened room, old photo albums, books and letters are gathered around her and she looks like she would fall asleep in any second. You see that this is a bedroom, filled with belongings of her and you hear the sound of the waves outside somewhere from the opened window. As you sit quietly next to her and watch her looking through the photos, she smiles softly before answering your unspoken question: “You know what I am? I am emotions and the feeling of true belonging. I am the roots of your inner being, family and home, your psychological identification, the connection of the environment and private life. I am the intimacy, age and the unconsciousness.”

fifth house: This door is not wooden. It is made out of the finest marble you could find here on earth. The knob is long and golden, a Latin phrase is written on the shimmering marble, it says ‘Ab imo pectore‘, from the bottom of my heart. You can hear music playing loudly and with an easy sweep you open the giant. You enter an atelier, the light is glowing golden and the Leo dances in the middle of it. Everything look rather antique, but with such grace and vividness, you cannot stop yourself from smiling. The sudden laugh of the Leo sounds like an imitating roar and he tip toes to his lover on the giant bed next to the window. “You are even more beautiful than my paintings, I could never capture your beauty.” As his lover smiles and takes his hands, they suddenly point in your direction and the Leo turns around, his thick hair shining in the light. “What do you want, stranger?” You answer honestly and the Leo laughs again as you want to know who he is. “I am art, your passions, creativity and individuality. The will for live, joy, children, the partner, sexuality, the wish for admiration and appreciation. “

sixth house: This door seems rather modest, but pretty as well. It seems to be quiet smaller than the rest of the doors you have seen so far. It has small little patterns carved in it. You see a note in the middle of it, it’s telling you to knock before opening and so you do as it told you. “Yes, you may come in.” You enter a cold, neatly tidied up working room, the lights are dimmed but the creature - the Virgo - in front of you is uptight, being busy doing some work - whatever it might be - but still keep a gentle smile on the lips. “Sorry, I’m in a hurry, please don’t mind the mess.” Mess she says, but you cannot even see a bit of dust on the book shelf. “Please, sit down, do you want something to drink? I cannot let you stay for a long time, but I already know what you might want to know, if you don’t mind answering you question.” Surprised you nod. “I a, work and service, as you can see. I am duty, social integration, physic healthiness, one ones limits and the limit of the others. the balance between my own needs and the ones of the environment.”

seventh house: This door is already open. You are surprised and carefully look into the room. There is a comfortable looking bedroom, its furniture is held in warm colors, there is much light shining inside since the windows are very high and there are no curtains. The Libra is walking directly towards you, a soft smile on the lips and a glass of water in the other hand. “Hey, how are you? Just passing by?” You nod and ask if you are allowed to sit down on the sofa, Libra nods and sits down with you. “Sorry, I am just, ahm-” He pauses as he notes down something in a giant book with a dark, cracked leather binding.” You blink  a few times before asking what kind of book Libra is carrying with him. “Oh this? Sometimes I need to note everything down, every person that touched me, I’ve met, you know. You learn so much by being in touch with others.” You nod, it seems right what he says. “You know, I am the development of ones own identity by meeting others. Relationships to others, the You, mental interest, contacts and meetings, harmony, joy and beauty. The partner, the person opposite as my projection surface, cooperation, socialization, coming together and working together.”

eight house: This door seems made out of stone. You are struggling to open it. Are you allowed to open it? The atmosphere is tense and you hear a vibrant sound somewhere. Next to you  in the hallway is a small window, which you look out of. There is the deep, blackness of the night sky, golden stars are adorning it, among them the white, glowing, milky moon, who whispers sweet promises and goodbyes to you. Suddenly the stone door is opening, you jump in shook and your heartbeat raises as you see red glowing eyes watching you from the dark behind it. “Hello. What do you want”, a deep, echoing voice asks you. Your hands are shaking, you are frightened and at the same time deeply hypnotized. “You are Scorpio, right?” The eyes keep on starring. “I am.” You swallow and ask if you may enter. “I am the darkness that you desire, the occult, the interest, I am passion, desire, transformation, the taboo, the darker side and death. Are you sure you want to come in?” You do not hesitate, but nod instantly. “Hmpf.” A pale hand grabs yours, the skin tone seems too pale for something living, but indeed the hand is warm and you feel oddly safe. 

ninth house: You had to climb a long spiral staircase in order to get to this room. Exhausted you breath desperately for air before realizing that you are in a giant tower. This door is slightly opened and you hear music faintly whispering in your ear. “Sorry?”, you ask as you see the Sagittarius twirling around in the room, a couple of maps in the hand. The room is full of possessions, pictures, books, paintings and different furniture from all over the world. Suddenly the Sagittarius stops, his brown eyes vividly laying on you. “Oh hi, didn’t see you there”, he says as he lays down the old maps. You remark the exciting and interesting looking room, it smells like jasmine in here. “You are the urge for more and exploration?”, you ask and the Sagittarius smiles. “I am not only that. I am your conscious mind, always growing, always developing, asking for the meaning of life. I am wanting to expand one’ philosophy, higher norms and values, abstract way of thinking, education and different cultures, explorations and the way of understanding. I am your ideal, your religious and spiritual life.”

tenth house: You knocked almost three times but no one seems to open this door. You are wondering what might happened to the person inside it. You try pushing it as you hear a stricter, cold voice: “Try ringing the bell instead.” It came out of the intercom. “Sorry, I-” 
“It’s alright, I don’t mind. Come in.” The door opens from its own and you are intimidated by the big entry. A woman with a suitcase and silky trouser suit walks towards you, the sound of her shoes echoing from the walls. “Hi, I am Capricorn, Excuse me, but I do not like this knocking, there is a bell for a reason.” You look into her grey eyes and even though her facial expressions seems hard you know she is gentle. You apologize but she laughs it off. “I have a meeting at six, and I know what you want - Virgo already called me -, so I am explaining everything now - oh, here take a seat, coffee and biscuits are here on the table.” You do as she said but are somehow a  bit too nervous to eat. “I am the development and realization of ones goals in life or even destiny. I am the public, ones image, law, order and authority. Honor, responsibility, appeal and the position you take in society.”

eleventh house: “Hi, here do I live”, the shield hanging on the door says. Sadly it does not say who “I” is. You ring the door bell and the bell ringing sounds differently than usual. It is longer and you have never heard this kind of melody as a door bell before. “Come in”, someone says quietly. The light is dimmed, and you see Aquarius in front of his Laptop on his bed. “Sorry, had no time tying up, I am trying to connect to this live broadcast of the speech from this dude here, he’s responsible for this rather extreme party and - ah, it’s not working, damn it.” He closes the Laptop and offers you a seat on his bed. “Nice to meet you, want some coffee?” He offers you a cup but takes it back immediately. “Sorry, paint water in there, not coffee, ha. Nice jacket, you come here often?” You shake your head and smile. He is funny and unusual, you like it. “Actually, I wanted to know who..” 
“I am? Well, I am the development of your goals regarding society. The zeitgeist, friends, communities, reforms, ambitions and change. Emancipation, patronage, rebellion, humanitarian and social ideals, also hopes and desires. 

twelfth house: The last door. Your journey was long but everything has an end and you know that the person behind this door knows this feeling too well - that the circle is closing, ending and repeats itself afterwards. You open the door, knowing you do not have to knock. You step into radiant, glowing, crystal blue water. The water is flowing in circles and Pisces is standing there, the softest smile on the lips, eyes so warm and understanding, the head lightly tilted. You are enchanted by the tingling sensation of the water and as you grab Pisces hands, they are warm and soft. “Do not be afraid. I am endless devotion. Endless devotion without losing ground underneath you feet. I am the other meta-level. Delusional, transparent, drawn to fleeing from fears, but always love deep inside. Come, you can visit the other realm with me now.”

Neighbours (Peter Parker x Reader)

Request: I love your writing! You’re so talented. Also can I request a Spider-Man where when they where young and peter had a crush on the reader, but they moved away, now they are back and like cute fluffy stuff? Please and thank you // by @littlesistersalvatore

A/N: I’m going to do a part 2(might even turn this into a series, I don’t really know, but I think this can be a nice start to something), so that’s why the ending is so open. Hope you enjoy nonetheless! I’m imagining Peter being 20-21, more or less, by the way!!


When Peter had been told by his aunt to introduce himself to the new neighbours, he had expected them to be an elderly couple. They had just moved into the house in front of his and his aunt had baked cookies for them, although she couldn’t introduce herself to them because she had to work and as she always said, ‘’cookies are supposed to be eaten when they have just been baked.’’
He didn’t know why he had expected them to be old -probably because everyone in his building was older than forty and the only person who was younger than that was a seven year old who hated him.
Now Peter was standing in front of the door, a plate full of cookies in one of his hands and ready to knock with the other. He knocked softly, not really eager to meet the people whom he would have to see everyday from thereon. Peter imagined the many scenarios that could happen -they could be rude and tell him to leave, they could be mad that Peter was bothering them, or they could simply not open the door to a stranger.
Just as Peter was about to leave, he heard footsteps walking around the apartment and tripping over things.
‘’I’m coming!’’ a voice yelled.
Peter was surprised -the person sounded like a girl, probably his age. He started growing more nervous by that fact -if he was already a mess with old people, he was even more of a mess with girls his age.
He didn’t know what to do -should he quickly turn around and leave the cookies at the doorstep, or should he man up and introduce himself properly?
He didn’t have time to decide(although he would most likely have chosen the first option, and he knew that). The door finally opened and it revealed a young girl, her hair up in a pony tail and an old oversized t-shirt covering most of her body.
‘’Peter?’’ the girl asked, her eyes wide open. ‘’Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s you!’’
Peter didn’t understand at first -why did that girl know him and why did she look so familiar. It was then when he realized -she was the girl he had been madly in love with for most of his life and who had moved away the day after he had finally built up the courage to kiss her.
‘’[Y/N]?’’ he softly asked.
The girl nodded and smiled, taking the cookies and putting them on an unpacked box, taking Peter’s hand as well and pulling him into the apartment.
‘’It’s been so long!’’ she exclaimed. ‘’Four years, right? Oh my God, this is so exciting. What are you doing with your life?’’
Peter didn’t know what to do. All the feelings he had took so long to bury four years ago had awoken and his heart was jumping in his chest.
‘’Uh, nothing exciting, I guess’’ he said.
‘’I can’t believe it’s you’’ she continued. ‘’I’ve missed you so much.’’
He laughed softly and looked at her, trying to decide his next move. She realized and walked to the kitchen, looking back at Peter for a moment.
‘’Do you want something to drink?’’ she asked him. ‘’I think we have lots to talk about.’’

Sleep / Bucky Barnes

Request:  hey can you please do 1, 14 and 15 with bucky barnes… thank you @meghapillai

1. That’s starting to get annoying

14. They’re so cute when they’re asleep

15. I’d kill for a coffee… literally 

A/N: I haven’t done Avengers in a while soo I hope you enjoy this

Warnings: nothing really

Originally posted by a-marvelous-tolbean

You, Nat and Wanda were sitting in the common room of the Avengers tower, talking, when Sam and Bucky walked in. The super-soldier ran his fingers through his hair and you sighed, looking away.

“That’s starting to get annoying,” you muttered.

“What is,” Nat questioned.

“Bucky playing with his hair 24/7.”

Nat and Wanda smiled and each other knowingly and you scoffed, a slight grin appearing on your face.

“You two are unbelievable,” you chuckled.

“You like him,” Wanda sang.

“Who does (Y/N) like,” Sam teased as he sat down on the sofa across from you.

He knew exactly who you liked. The whole team did, except Bucky. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Shut it bird-man.”

Bucky sat in the only available place, which happened to be next to you. You glared at the group knowing they did that on purpose.

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❝ It’s over. ❞

Plot: Jimin cheats on you, because he’s too drunk, and you broke up with him. 

Pairing: JiminxReader 

Words count: 1,9k+

Genre: Angst

For anon, I hope you like it! - M. 

Gif isn’t mine, credits to the owner! ♥

The happy barking of your dog was the best welcome after a long and tiring day of study and work. You laid the purse and the keys on the cupboard near the entrance and you were ready to head to the bathroom to relax a little when strange noises from your bedroom made you block completely.  

Immediately your heart began to beat at an abnormal rate because they were little misunderstanding sounds and immediately understood what was going on in that room.  

Your hands began to tremble and in small steps you began to walk towards your room, finally reaching the door. Yet you couldn’t open it, you were scared to death to see what, or rather who, was in it. But your hopes were destroyed shortly after because the female voice screamed that name, the name you hoped to never hear, and with your hopes, even your heart broke completely. 

Your brain allowed you not to hurt yourself and trying to remain silent you turned and left the house looking for a possible refuge to spend those hours.  

You never thought that Jimin could cheat you. After a year of relationship by now you thought you were perfect together, he was so considerate to you and he always tried to show you how much he loved you. You had so hard to trust him, because of your past experiences, that that seemed like a joke to you because it felt impossible that he really did.  

Walking through the streets of Seoul you didn’t cry, because there were too many people who could see you, stopping in a kiosk and starting to drink in solitary. You never liked alcohol, but at that moment you just wanted to anesthetize a little the pain your felt into your heart.  

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Yes and No

Bucky Barnes x reader

Bucky plans a proposal for you but pops the question on the night just before. You decide to still go through with it but this time, making your next move in the never-ending prank war with your friends. [~3300 words]

warnings: language and Bucky Barnes proposing three times which needs a warning for itself

A/N: the word ‘happy’ is in this about 3095328 times but we’re going to ignore that. 

Originally posted by little--batman

The knock on his door was hesitant but not but not quiet enough to not be noticeable which is why Steve wanted to kick the person on the other side right in the solar plexus for disturbing him in his much-deserved sleep. After the mission, Steve had been so tired, he hadn’t even taken off his suit properly but instead had only undone the zipper to at least breathe.

“Come on in,” he said, nevertheless, because he was Steve Rogers and that is the sort of thing a Steve Rogers does.

“Steve, I’ve got a problem.” It was Bucky. It was Bucky and for that reason, Steve was already more awake and even sat up in his bed.

“What is it, buddy?”

There was silence. Bucky shuffled over to the bed and planted himself onto it. Then, he played with his fingers.

Steve waited, Bucky usually took a bit longer finding the right words to-

“I think I want to marry her.”

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It’s Our Anniversary

Originally posted by minyoongiaesthetic

Artist/Person : Min Yoongi/Agust D

Group/Crew : BTS

Genre : Fluff

Word Count : 1986

Request :  Can I ask for some super fluffy fluff with Yoongi or Namjoon? (You choose) Maybe make it medium sized or long? (If that’s okay) tysm💓


My gaze was focused on his hunched form, a smile on my lips as I watched his head bob to the music playing through the headphones that covered his ears. Slowly, I stood from my seat on the dark couch and crossed the studio to where he sat. Draping my arms over him, resting them on his chest, I buried my face in the crook of his neck and placed a soft kiss on it. He paused the current track, slipping his headphones off with a chuckle. “Yes, baby girl?” Yoongi muttered, looking over his shoulder and chuckling at my puckered lips. Turning a bit more, he connected our lips, for a moment, in a chaste kiss.

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Just Ask - Part 3

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: “The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place.” You think, after being alive for this long and leading an team of superheroes, Steve Rogers would’ve perfected his communication skills, but apparently, when it comes to women, he just likes to assume, and that is never a good thing.

A/N: I’m continuously blown away by the support you guys’ve given me, I’ve been smiling from ear to ear since yesterday morning I look like an absolute moron.

Part 2

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Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. 

You stare at the closed door in front of you and take a deep breath for the third time tonight. You’re standing outside your boyfriend’s apartment, like you’ve done a thousand times before. It’s the same chipped and faded paint on the wood you’ve seen that has been etched into your memory, along with the same useless doorbell that never works- But it all feels different, because of what you’ve come here to do.

You are completely, totally, hopelessly in love with Daveed Diggs. He feels the same way about you, you know he does. He’s expressed it breathlessly between kisses, in dorky love letters, and in a song coupled with Lin’s awkward beatboxing in the background. And because the two of you are in love, you want to do what people who are in love do.

In the year that you’ve been dating he has mostly managed to keep his hands off of you. You never went much further than the occasional hasty make out session on the couch, but lately you’d been wanting more. You came to his apartment with the intention of finally, finally taking that next step with him. You are worried about one thing, though, since you are an absolutely clueless virgin. You’ve never done this before, but have always imagined how it would go… your first time being so intimate with another human being. Thinking it through from the last couple of days, you convinced yourself you had nothing to worry about. He’s always been so caring with you, and you’re not a child. You know how this works.

You finally knock on the door, smoothing out your dress and fixing your hair as you wait. You’ve chosen to wear something that you know makes you look irresistible-a short, sleeveless dress, lace tights, and your lucky heels, all in black. It should definitely do the trick.

Soft footsteps come closer, and the door opens to reveal your boyfriend, messy haired and as cute as ever.

“Hey, Y/N,” He beams at you, his brown eyes shining with joy from your surprise of just randomly showing at his door. He’s so cute that you nearly forget to respond.

“Hi, Dave. Mind if I come inside?” You smile back, trying to add an edge to your voice that you hope is anything near sexy.

“Not at all, sugar,” He ushers you inside and kisses your cheek as you brush past him. “What inspired this visit?” He hums against your neck, slipping his arms around your waist.

“Oh, nothing, I just wanted to see you. That’s all,” You reply coyly.

“Well, you’re always welcome here. I can never get enough of you,” He’s still smiling at you, although it’s more of a smirk now. Maybe he knows what you’re up to. Still in an almost-embrace, you drift into the living room and onto the couch.

“Do you want a drink? I could get us some beers,” Daveed asks.

“How about something a little more… sophisticated?” You suggest sinking your vision to his eyes, hoping that you’re still being subtle.

He must have caught on to your plan, because his eyebrows quirk up, like they always do when he’s in a playful mood. “Coming right up, doll,” he says and whisks to the kitchen and returns shortly with two blood-red glasses. When he gives you yours your hands touch and linger. It’s as if every time your skin has come into contact, from the kiss at the door to this quick moment, sparks have flown between the two of you. Even making eye contact with him over the rim of your glass has you feeling hot all over.

It doesn’t take long before both of your glasses are drained and you’re basically in his lap, toying with the buttons at the top of his shirt. You kick off your shoes so you can bring your feet up on the couch. Looking down at you, he pulls you closer to him, as if it were even possible. It’s still chaste and innocent. You’re only playing with each other’s hair, looking into each other’s eyes. His gaze keeps flicking down to your lips, which you had agonized over for some time, delicately painting on the perfect shade of red. Then his lips are on yours, soft at first and then building up to something dangerous and reckless. There’s teeth, there’s tongue, it’s filthy and you love it. Your lipstick is definitely ruined but you couldn’t care less.

He pushes you onto your back, suddenly harsh and commanding. He has total control over you, and you’re just helplessly needy, arching into his touch and chasing those wonderful feelings he’s giving you. There’s that sinful thing he does with his tongue, and the way he keeps grinding his hips where your dress has ridden up… It’s too much and not enough.

“Maybe we should… Mmf… Go to your room?” You ask as he stops his assault on your lips to nibble at your collarbone.

He simply nods, holding your hand on the way there and looking at you like he wants to devour you. He throws you onto the bed, making you squeak in surprise. “I want you, and I’m going to take you… I’ll make you mine, babydoll…” He murmurs and literally tears your tights off your legs. The amount of force he’s using begins to scare you.

Your dress is the next to go. Thankfully, he manages to keep it in one piece. Now you’re fully exposed, except for a thin lace bra which he makes quick work of. He’s straddling you at this point, and you can feel his erection straining in his skinny jeans. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N.” He growls as he takes in the expanse of your bare body. Even though it’s a compliment, it sounds almost predatory.

His clothes come off quickly. You want to take a second to let the fact sink in that you’re skin to skin with the love of your life, but he’s moving so fast you don’t have the time. It’s too frantic. Every touch is fleeting; every brush of your lips is too rushed.

“It’s been such a long time, sweetheart. You’re so gorgeous. I might have to skip the foreplay. I need to feel you, now,” He growls and pounces on you, and starts rutting his cock against your opening. It’s nice- but your eyes widen when you realize exactly how big he is. You were not expecting it to be so thick or so long, and you find yourself wondering how on Earth that is going to fit inside you. “Mmm… You’re going to feel me for days. You’ll be so wrecked when I’m through with you…” He’s pressing harder, sending prickles of pain throughout your body and your heart is racing. You want to back out, but it must be too late now. He’s starts to force it in you and it’s too much too soon- you cry out in pain.

“It’s okay, it will be better soon, it’s just been a while-” he begins to soothe you, his eyes closed and running his hands over your arms.

“No, no, no- I’m a virgin. I’m a virgin, Daveed.” You blurt out.

“You’re what?” He stops immediately, and pulls out to scoop you up in his arms.

“I’ve never had sex. I’m sorry… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” tears practically falling out as you admitted it. “I thought it would be fine, but you were being so rough, and you were bigger than I expected and…” You trail off, pressing your face into his bare shoulder.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry Y/N.” He strokes your hair, kissing your forehead softly. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed that you’d done this before. I don’t know what I was thinking. Why didn’t you tell me? I would have made it better for you.”

“I don’t know.” You sigh. “I wanted everything to go smoothly.”

“That worked out really well.” He says sarcastically, trying to pull a joke. He must have noticed your worried expression because he adds, “I’m not mad at you, babe. Don’t worry. Just be honest with me in the future, okay?”

You nod meekly, and then smile at him, which he returns happily. Then he wraps you in another hug. “I didn’t say we had to stop. I only said we should go slower., You whisper, glancing at him and biting your lower lip.

“Will you be okay if I touch you?” he asks cautiously. He seems more afraid than you are, now. You find yourself unable to believe that he cares about you so much.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

He lets his hands run over you, in no rush. This time he worships you; he treats you like a queen. Daveed memorizes every dip and curve, delicately tracing every freckle and scar. It seems like an eternity before he reaches the place you need him to be. His fingers touch your clit hesitantly at first, but he moves faster as you let out whines and gasps of pleasure. “Do you like that, sugar?” he asks, smirking, obviously proud of the reactions he’s retrieving from you.

“Oh God, yes…” you cut yourself off with a moan when a finger enters you. It’s seconds before he finds the spot that has you begging for more and bucking into his hand. Then it’s joined by another, and you wince at the stretch but never stop the stream of noises and incoherent curses leaving your mouth.

“So wet… I think you’re ready, doll,” He retracts his fingers and guides you onto your back. He’s above you, now; knees braced on either side of you. You’re still shaking, but he’s still lending you soothing touches. Every time you look at him you find yourself reassured, somehow. It reminds you that all he wants tonight is to make you feel as special as he thinks you are. “I’ll be careful, I promise,” Daveed motions and kisses your forehead. Then he’s pushing in, as slow as he promised. He watches you carefully, ready to pull out at the first sign that you’re in pain. Your eyes are shut tight as you try to ignore the slight stretch. “Hey, look at me.” He tilts your chin up and you look at him. He’s absolutely bewitching like this, towering over you, beautiful eyes glinting and full of an intoxicating combination of adoration and lust. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you say. He takes this as his cue to slide in fully, eliciting a pained whimper from you. Immediately he’s planting quick, sloppy kisses to your neck, mumbling apologies and promises about how good it’s going to feel. You’re not sure if you believe him until he starts to move. Somehow he’s managed to reach a place you never knew existed, and each time he rubs against it you’re overcome with such an intense want for him. You moan out loud, shamefully loud, and he grins against your skin. Heat spreads over you, radiating from every point where your body connects with his. He keeps making all these wonderful, lewd noises- groans and breathy “oh fuck”s and unintelligible praise. The unhurried roll of his hips is driving you mad with bliss, to the point where you’re almost delirious.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N,” He groans. You try to respond, but you’re so overwhelmed by aching need and the heavenly drag of his cock in an out of you that you can’t manage more than desperate panting. You’re trembling beneath him, consumed with unfamiliar feelings and a fire that keeps threatening to break loose in your body. Unfathomable ecstasy washes over you when he finds your clit again, rubbing it to the beat of his thrusts. “I want to see you become undone for me,” he purrs.

So you do. It’s everything you thought it would be- heaven, paradise, a high you know you could never get from any drug. Your release triggers his, and you watch his face contort in euphoria.

Still in a haze, you untangle yourselves. He pulls you close to him, your back against his chest. Both of you are sweaty and practically burning up from your previous activities, but you don’t mind at all. “That was… amazing. You’re amazing,” He mumbles into your hair.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You giggle, exhausted from your adventure.

“I love you so much, you know that, right?” You turn to face him and he props himself up on an elbow.

“Of course I do. I love you, too,” you say, and you mean it. He smiles and pecks you on the lips.

“I am sorry about your underwear though…”