just sitting on a van

3

The Bronx

Requested by: Anonymous
(Here are the specifics)

Pairing: Reader x Peter Parker
Word Count: 3.6K
Warnings: Fighting, fluff

A/N: Set during CA:CW airport scene, so obviously some changes to canon to incorporate the reader. Reader’s powers look and act the same as the powers on The Last Airbender (the cartoon, not that movie. The movie was shit.) This was way longer than I expected, whoops.

The squeal of tires alerts everyone’s attention to the arrival of Captain America. You watch silently as Clint and the girl in the front, Wanda, both climb out of the van, and you wait patiently, and nervously, to be introduced.

Your view blocked by the mostly windowless van, you strain your ears to hear. But your leg is bouncing from all the nerves and excitement coursing through your body. You can’t make out words, only accents and voices.

It appears that one of the men in the blue Beetle was Captain America, or at least you think so. The foreign voice you hear, conversing with Clint and Wanda, is deep and calming. Just like you’d imagined the national heroes voice to sound.

You freeze as you hear Clint’s voice approach the van. You don’t notice that you were holding your breath until the van door slides open and bangs, forcing you to exhale with surprise. The man that had taken up the full front row of seat to sleep, Scott, jumps at the noise. This was it. You had to make a good impression. Sure Team Cap, as Scott was nicknaming your fellow van travellers, needed as many enhanced as they could get, but you’re sure that there wouldn’t be anything stopping them from making you wait in the car if you appeared too immature.

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anonymous asked:

Can you just imagine mark as a soccer mom driving all his egos to their soccer game and dark fighting with wilford who get to sit shot gun while the host just sits in the very back of the miny van quietly narrating.(I'm not sure what the rest of them would be doing tho)

oh my god this is adorable

just wilford counting all the red cars they pass on their way there. dark grumbling to himself about having to be in the back. the host is just sitting in the middle with his hands folded and narrating softly to himself. google is on the other side with his headphones in and staring out the window. 

mark probably has a tight grip on the steering wheel like “the next person who talks doesn’t get dessert tonight.” 

gifts of sunshine

Over the years, Jesper never really stops calling Wylan “Wylan Van Sunshine”. It becomes almost a symbol. One year for his birthday, Jesper gets Wylan a pretty little sun made of glass. Then the next year Jesper spends months making him a big gold sun, bright as can be and carved with tiny intricate patterns. As time goes on, the suns become more and more frequent. A pancake shaped like the sun, a little silk sun sewn into Wylan’s pillowcase, little paper suns on the window in the morning. It continues for years until there are enough suns that Wylan paints a whole room yellow and fills it with them so he can sit in there sometimes and just marvel at them all.

And then Daryl quietly enters the van and just sits there with Carol while she mourns her daughter.

WHY DON’T WE HAVE SIMPLE YET BEAUTIFUL SCENES LIKE THIS ON THE SHOW ANYMORE?

#133 - For anonymous x2

Filling the prompts “could you do one with a plus size model?” and “Fic based off of heathrow? The lil "snog her in the kitchen/ dance with her to lemonworld” bit?“

Note: To the plus sized model requester: you may also like #69 - click here. To the Heathrow requester: I hope you’re okay with how I used the song in this fic? Gives it a little more originality than a basic story based word for word on the lyrics, you know? =^.^=


You’d only done print media before; just photographs. When the opportunity came up to audition for a music video, you jumped at it. The casting call write up was vague. They needed a girl aged between twenty and thirty that was comfortable smoking on camera, and looked good in a leather jacket. That was it. There were no specific requirements about hair colour, height, body type, or anything like that.

As you waited for your turn to audition, you sat in a row of other girls. You stood out. You were the only one who wasn’t wearing makeup, and you were the only one who could be considered plus size. Knowing very little about the project, it was hard to determine if those were going to be strengths or limitations. When it was your turn, the butterflies in your stomach settled. The anticipation was what killed you. The actual audition part was easy.

In the room there was a rectangular table. Behind it sat someone introduced as Andy, the director, and another as the label rep. Sitting on the table itself was a guy who presumably was in the band, or was already cast to be in the video. He was in black ripped jeans and a black and white striped shirt. His name was Van and (you had correctly guessed) he was the singer. You shook all their hands and watched for any immediate reaction. Van smiled warmly and as he blinked you noticed the length of his eyelashes. You knew models that would kill for them.

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2

♫ POE DAMERON’S MIX TAPE ♫
     ↬ listen [8tracks] [spotify

#179 - For anonymous x2

Filling the prompt “Best Friend // Rex Orange County and it’s just like the boy desperately wanting to be with his best friend and idk if u listen to the song it’s rly cute tysm” and “One where reader is a rich girl, and Van thinks she’s gonna be a stereotypical pompous twat, but she’s real humble and the lads an van are pleasantly surprised?”


When your parents dropped you with Mary and Bernie, you were nervous and excited in equal measures. Your siblings were nothing like you, and when the conversation was had about having to work for pocket money, they almost rioted. Your brother smashed both televisions in his room, and your sister said she’d stop helping with the horses. You happily thought about it and decided that when you grew up you’d like to maybe work in a hotel. The hotels in the village weren’t about to let a kid come work for them, but there was the bed and breakfast. A phone later you were on your way to work. Well, volunteer. Your parents would pay you, but technically you weren’t employed.

The aim was to learn the value of money. Everything was easy for you growing up; born with a silver spoon. Getting out into the world and seeing how other people lived would do you good. Naturally kind and full of empathy, you wanted nothing more than to figure out how to use your privilege to help other people. Maybe your sixteen-year-old mind didn’t think of it in those terms, but that’s what you were doing. You’d never have guessed that your attempts to be a better person would be met with such resistance.

Mary and Bernie liked you immediately. You used your manners and took directions well. You followed them around making tea and ironing bed sheets. Their son, who you were sure was actually named Ryan but everyone seemed to call Van, did not like you immediately. He hardly spoke to you at all, and if you had to be in the same room, he’d put his cheap headphones in and ignore you.

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  • Kara: Supergirl won't be available next Tuesday
  • Alex: What? why?
  • Kara: I got jury duty
  • Alex: AHAHAHAHAHAHA
  • Alex: Now I'm imagining you going as Supergirl
  • Alex: Can I get someone to hack the system and changed Kara Danvers to Supergirl? Can you imagine how shock they'll be when they're roll calling and come across you?
135/365 things I love about you

Spending time with you helps get through the deadline stress ♡

I remember reading one time about Vincent Van Gogh eating yellow paint because he thought yellow was a bright colour and that it would make him happy. So he ate it in an effort to make himself happy. People think he was crazy but I beg to differ. If he was crazy then we are all crazy just sit back and think about it for a minute. Van Gogh ate paint, and it was toxic and poisonous. Then there are people who drink excessively, or smoke or are on drugs or self harm or starve themselves or binge and if you were to examine the situation with non-judgmental eyes you would see that those things are our yellow paint. We’re all searching for a way to ease the pain a little… to find happiness perhaps. Because I know as well as anyone that no one drinks for the taste of the alcohol. They drink to make themselves forget, to enter a state where all their problems seem worlds away and all the lines are blurred. At the end of they day, we’re all just looking for our yellow paint and no matter how much we deny it, we crave happiness.
— 

 01/07/2015

2:33 am

~Excerpts from the book I’ll never write #109

  • <p> <b><p></b> <b>Jesper:</b> you know, Wylan is really cute<p/><b>Jesper:</b> what<p/><b>Everyone:</b> what<p/><b>Jesper:</b> I said, Wylan reALLY KILLS IT ON THE FLUTE<p/></p><p/></p>
Би чамд хайртай (Bi chamd khairtai)

hint: it’s a swear word in dutch :p soo today started with a schrik moment hahah when my phone died I immediately thought of you and how I couldn’t tell you about the snelbus and I was like help how am I going to contact you now and basically I’m too clingy hahah but I’m glad it works again cause my old phone is a little too gebarsten to re-use :p and today was pretty fun hahah playing solitaire and noticing how much things were going over my head but I’m getting better :pp andd finally a new episode of oitnb which was really awesomeee c:

#74 - For anonymous x2

Filling the prompts “do you think you could write a kinda smutty fic where van fingers you under the table or something when the lids are around but they don’t know?” and “Could you write about the sexual frustration of reader?”

Note: I literally couldn’t logistically figure out the table thing, so we’re going for a cuddle on the couch and a blanket. But same deal.


You always marvelled at how the guys never got sick of each other. Yeah, they bickered every now and then, but even when home from tour they’d still spend a lot of time together. Take right now, for example. They’d flown back into town this morning, and after a few hours seeing the folks and the girlfriends, somehow they had all gravitated back to Van - like he was the centre of not only your universe but theirs too. You’d only just got home from seeing Mary and Bernie, and had yet to spend any time alone with Van. Van, who you were aching to touch and be touched by. Van, who is standing in your lounge room holding the blanket you requested while telling a story about a kid that he’d meet after a show in the U.S. You reach out for both him and the blanket with grabby hands. He smiles, and returns to his place next to you on the couch. You burrito yourself up in the blanket and keep listening to them tell stories.

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Acrylic Sugar’s Super Huge Eobarry & Barrison Fanfic Rec List

This is in no way meant to be a full and comprehensive list. These are just some of the stories I have read and enjoyed. If you have any recommendations please send them my way. I can always use more Eobarry/Barrison in my life, lol.

Considering the nature of the characters *cough* Eobard *cough* some of these fics will contain non-con, violence, dark, and disturbing themes. Please read the warnings and/or tags on the fic if you are not interested in reading that.

*** = I extra recommend reading this.

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Kocham cię

the hint for this time isss: it’s a country close to ours but not one of the buurlanden so I really enjoyed sitting outside today c: it was really great having a reason to hold your hand :p and it sorta makes up for not holdibg your hand at night like it’s not the same ofcourse but it was nice laying like that c: (even though my arm is red now hahah oopss) andd going to the city together even though I hate looking for shoes cause I’m never pleased and when I am they’re either sold out in my size or too expensive :pp but the ice cream and sitting in the sun watching the little kid with water was really great c: