not exactly fluff but close enough

So, what’s for breakfast? - Tom Holland Imagine.

|| summary: morning sex with tom!!

|| author’s note: smut!! this was requested by an anon, you weren’t very specific on what you wanted - hope you enjoyed the direction i went :)

The, annoyingly familiar, sound of a loud ping drags you out of a deep sleep. Squinting one eye open, you peer over at the bedside table, raising your head slightly. A message from your mom has lit up your phone screen.

Hey baby, just checking in. I didn’t see you before you left, and Janice said she saw Tom and you leaving in a hurry. Hope everything’s okay, pumpkin. Love you x

A small smile quirks up the sides of your lips as you drop your head again. Turning onto your back, you stretch out your tender limbs, relaxing their tense state from the interesting night you had before. You can’t help your grin, as you begin recalling the events from the previous evening.

Tom and you, had attended your mom’s friend’s wedding. It was her third marriage, so everyone there was at least in their early thirties - except for you two. To make things more interesting, Tom had decided to play a game of cat and mouse - seeing who could tease the other more.

It ended, how those games usually end, in a lot of sexual frustration. Not being able to bear it any longer, the two of you hurried home after cake was served. You wish you could say you made it until then, but admittedly - you had sex in Tom’s car… still in the parking lot. Tom also had you in the walkway of your apartment… and on this bed.

Your lips quirk up in a micheavous smile, as you reminisce on all the things he did to you. Sighing contentedly, you look over to find you’re unaccompanied in bed. You sit up, causing the blankets to fall to your waist, reminding you that you’re still naked. You shuffle out of bed, grabbing Tom’s discarded button up off the floor, as you head into the bathroom.

Taking one look at yourself in the mirror, you immediately blush crimson. Instinctively, your thighs squeeze together as your eyes flick over all the marks on your body. You have multiple hickies on your neck, breasts, and stomach. Closing your eyes briefly, you allow yourself to reimagine Tom’s skilled mouth on your body.

Shaking your head, you bring yourself back to reality, as you slip Tom’s shirt over your shoulders - cuffing the selves and buttoning all, but the top four, buttons; so’s to reveal a tantalizing amount of cleavage. Noting that the shirt stops just above your mid thigh, you decide on not wearing panties. You quickly wash your face, and brush your teeth, before wandering out to the kitchen.

As soon as you reach the hallway, you’re met with the irreplaceable smell of brewing coffee. A hint of a smile tugs at your lips, as you continue down the hall. You peak around the corner, and are met with the welcome sight of Tom’s naked back. His perfectly sculptured backside, is enough to get you excited and weak in the knees. He’s dressed in nothing, but your favorite pair of his sweats - the grey ones. Tiptoeing over to him, you wrap your arms around his waist, startling him a bit.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Tom smiles, looking down at you, over his shoulder.

“Morning.” You smile at innocently up at him, before tugging his coffee cup out of his hand, and pulling it around him.

He turns to face you, as you take a few steps back, his left eyebrow raising in question. Leaning against the kitchen island, you continuing to sip his coffee and smile at him. “Sleep okay?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest, watching you intently. You nod, pulling the cup away from your lips. “You?” He shrugs and purses his lips. “It was alright.”

Your mouth pops open at his audacity, causing you to scoff. “Ass.” You tease. “Excuse me?” Tom challenges, uncrossing his arms. You shake your head, and hand him back his coffee. Walking over to fridge, you make sure to tease him alittle by swaying your hips.

Opening its doors, you get on your tiptoes to explore the fridge’s condiments, allowing his shirt to raise even further up your thighs. “So,” you sigh. “What’s for breakfast?” Suddenly, warm hands are making their way up your thighs to grip your waist. “You.” Tom growls, inches from your ear, his hot breath tickling your neck.

Before your brain can process this, Tom lifts, and then, places you on the kitchen island. You gasp at the sudden sensation, of the cool surface against your heated skin, and Tom takes this opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. One of his hands falls to the small of your back, holding you against him, while the other reaches up to cup your face - controlling the kiss. Immediately, your legs wrap around his waist and pull him forward, to close the distance between the two of you.

You moan at the friction you feel against his sweats, and begin grinding your hips into it. The feeling of his clothed erection, against your exposed skin is a unexpectedly heady sensation. You hear him groan into your mouth, as his tongue massages against yours. Breaking away from the kiss, Tom nips at your lower lip, before untangling himself from you.

You move to protest, until you see him turn and reopen the fridge, digging through it. After a beat, he turns to face you with a bottle of carmel sauce in his hand. Your eyebrows furrow together, as he dips his index and middle finger into the container. “I told you,” he explains, “you’re going to be breakfast.”

When your mouth pops open, Tom places his two covered fingers on your bottom lip. “Suck.” He says, watching you intently, his eyes heated. Saying nothing, you grab his hand and bring his index finger into your mouth, sucking hard. You hear his sharp intake of breath, and watch as his bottom lip gets caught between his teeth. Your tongue swirls around his finger, before you pull it out of your mouth, and nibble at the tip of it. He watches, as you then take his middle finger into your mouth, repeating the same motion as before.

To be extra thorough, you pull both fingers into your mouth as your tongue flicks up the sides, and in between them. Tom licks his lips as you pull his fingers out your mouth, kissing the tips of them. “Good girl.” Tom rasps, as he leans down to kiss you, his hand trailing down your body. You moan into his mouth, when his fingers slide past your wet folds and then slip inside of you. “Jesus, Tom.” You groan, tilting your head back at the welcome sensation. His fingers curl inside you, as his thumb circles your clit. “Baby, you’re so fucking wet for me.” You close your eyes, as Tom leans down to kiss your neck - retracing his marks from last night.

Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out of you, causing you to whimper in protest. Your eyes flicker open, “Why’d you stop?” Looking up, you find Tom sucking his fingers clean, his eyes are closed as he savors each finger’s taste of you. “Because, I wanted a taste. I’m hungry.” You blink up at him, as his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you back upright.

His fingers begin unbottoning your(his) shirt, slowly working their way down. Once the shirt is undone, he uses his index finger to push it open, revealing your naked body to him. He clicks his tongue as he eyes you up and down. “You are so fucking beautiful. You know that?” You blush, feeling his intense gaze on you, and your eyes avoid him by looking up at ceiling.

A cold, thick, liquid draining down your chest calls your attention back down. Tom has begun dripping the carmel sauce down your chest, allowing it spill over your breasts and down your stomach. Your nipples harden at the cool tempature, and you bite your lip in anticipation.

“You’re going to taste so good, pretty girl.” Tom admits idly, his eyes growing in hunger as they watch the sauce work it’s way down your chest. After a beat, he pushes you onto your back and pulls your body down - so half of you is sprawled on top of the counter, while the other half wraps around his waist to hold itself up. Using one arm he holds you up, while the other rests on the counter to balance the two of you in this position.

His tongue instantly starts on your collarbones, slowly working his way across them to lick up all of the carmel. One of your hands falls down, to help prop yourself up, and the other digs into his hair, before sliding down his back and flattening against it - holding him close. “God, Tom. You’re so good.” You encourage, as his mouth continues lower, his tongue working it’s way over the tops of your breasts. “Tell me, darling,” Tom breathes against your skin, “tell me how good it feels.” His mouth restarts its process, sucking along the sides of your breasts and working their way in.

“So good, Tom.” You moan. “Please.” You beg, not sure exactly what you want, just knowing you don’t want him to stop. Ever. He pulls one of your breasts into his mouth, and his tongue begins rolling over your nipple. “Fuck.” You groan, as your hips buck up suddenly, grinding against his growing erection. He moans around your nipple, before pulling it out of mouth and working his way over the other breast - repeating the same process.

Once he pulls that breast out of his mouth, you cup the back of his neck and tug his mouth to yours. His lips are sticky, and he tastes of carmel and coffee. Your tongue is greedy for him, as it slips into his mouth, massaging against him. He exhales heavily, as his hand holding the two of you up, reaches to cup your face. You both fall back onto the island, as Tom’s hands slips under your shirt to hold your backside. You hardly notice the contact your head made with rough island surface, as your hands trail down his back to cup his ass, making him grind against your heat.

Please, Tom.” You mumble against his lips, and he knows exactly what you want. Holding himself up with one hand, he leans down with the other to tug his sweats off enough to free his hardened length. Wasting no time, Tom slides into you with ease and groans loudly as your insides clench around him. “Fuck,” he groans, closing his eyes briefly as he props himself onto his elbows.

You moan loudly as his hips swirl against yours, before beginning to thrust back and forth. Your arms loop around his neck, your breasts raising and falling as he reaches a more punishing rhythm. You feel your muscles begin tightening and the familiar heat grow in your stomach.

Suddenly, Tom leans up into a standing position and pulls you to edge of the counter. Dropping one of your legs to the side, and pulling the other higher up his waist, he begins hitting you at a new and deeper spot. You gasp, and throw your head back, your hips bucking against his to meet his new pace. One of your hands falls down to the counter, to hold yourself up, while the other wraps around Tom’s shoulders.

Leaning down, Tom takes your mouth in his as you feel yourself building again. One of Tom’s hands reaches down between you, and his thumb begins circling your clit. Your toes curl and you break away from the kiss to groan loudly. His hips and thumb continue their same momentum, and he has to snake his arm around your back to keep you up right, as your orgasm rips through you. “Tom, oh my god. Yes.” You’re practically screaming at this point, but you don’t care, your orgasm is too powerful to control yourself. “Shit, baby. God.” Tom’s head falls to the crook of your neck as he continue his same thrusts, pushing himself over the edge.

His hips grow sloppy, as he rides both of you through your highs, before he collapses against you, causing both of you to fall back. You stay like this, as you catch your breath; his head on your chest, and your fingers stroking his naked back. “Holy fuck.” He mumbles, standing straight, and pulling his sweats up. “I know.” You agree, rebuttoning your shirt - ignoring the feeling of sticky carmel on your skin.

“How’s that for breakfast?” Tom grins, leaning down to kiss you sweetly. You shrug and purse your lip, mimicking him earlier. “It’s alright.” Tom rolls his eyes, before kissing your hair. You hop off the island and stretch out your limbs. “So, really,” you say opening the fridge and glancing over at Tom. “What’s for breakfast?”

                                                                                                                         Anonymous said:    Tan long sleeve kinda baggy shirt tucked into a black flowey skirt with tan wedges with fluff on the top/down and curly/blushing happy            


Ta-da!@ I actually did one!

Not exactly what you asked for but I hope it’s close enough?

Showtime (Ben Platt x Reader)

A/N: hey all! back with a new fic.it’s not exactly the prompt, but I enjoyed writing it. hope you enjoy and love you all!

Request: “ PLEASE DO MORE BEN PLATT x Reader FICS!!! I have this one idea where the reader is a principal dancer at NYCB and it could be really cute and fluffy where they go to see each other’s shows or something!!! I love your writing so much!!!!!! Even if you don’t want to do this request specifically ID DIE IF YOU POSTED MORE BEN PLATT CONTENT OKAY ILL STOP RAMBLING ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU NOW BYEEEE 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕 “ here you go. like I said it’s not exactly this, but it’s close enough i hope. believe me; I have yet to find a request I didn’t want to do. love you too!

TW: None. it’s just pure fluff

Finally you had a day off from work, and you got to see your boyfriend in his show. You had been so busy lately at work as a principal dancer in the New York City Ballet and he’d been here at Dear Evan Hansen that you barely got to see each other. He had come to a couple of your shows and now he’d finally got you tickets to his. You were so happy for him, you knew he’d make it one day and be famous. Now he was so successful it took him a while just to get you tickets for his show.

You went in early so you could see him in his dressing room. You knocked on the door and he smiled, “hi sweetie what are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to wish you good luck on your show tonight. I’m sure you’ll do amazing.”

He blushes and kisses your cheek, “thanks dear.”

You give him a quick kiss and go to find your seat. You were early, so you had the whole theater to yourself. Your mind wanders to when he first told you he loved you.

.         .         .

You were sitting with him cuddling on the couch. He had just been cast as Evan Hansen yesterday and you were both so happy, but you could tell his mind was wandering. “You okay?”
“Yeah… just thinking.”
“About what?”

“There’s this song in the show. It’s called “If I Could Tell Her,” it’s just got this emotion that I don’t know how to reach the emotion behind it.”

“Well tell me about it? Maybe if you got the juices flowing, you’ll figure it out.”

“Sure, it’s not gonna make much sense though.”

You shift so you’re both sitting up straight, “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Well it’s after this girl’s brother died, and she wants to hear about what he had to say about her. And my character made up this lie that he was friends with him and he tells her what her brother said. But he didn’t actually say them. My character loves the girl so it’s his way of saying that he loves her, by telling her what her brother said about her… this isn’t making any sense is it?”

“No it does. What about that method acting thing? Use life experiences and such in your acting. I mean, haven’t you ever been in love before?”

“Well… kinda…”

“Okay, who?”

He blushes, “you. I love you, (Y/N).”
“I love you too Ben.” You kiss him deeply and smile. “You knew what to do for that song didn’t you? This was your plan just to tell me, wasn’t it?”
“Maybe, is that okay?”

You giggle and nod.

.         .         .

It was the final bow and you were so proud of him. He was so amazing in the role and you couldn’t be happier for him. When you expect for them to leave the stage, he comes forward and starts talking. “Okay, so thank you all so much for coming tonight. At this performance there’s an unsung talent in the audience though. My partner (Y/N) is here. They are one of the principal dancers in the New York City Ballet and I think that they don’t get enough credit. So I want them to come up here and to take a special bow of their own. We put some stairs coming up to the stage.”

You get up and step onto the stage. He helps you onto the stage and claps for you so you can bow.

You were so bashful now and he took your hand.

“I have been with them for a few years now. (Y/N), I love you so much. I want to spend my life with you. I know this isn’t the longest speech ever but I just…” he gets down on one knee and pulls out a small black box from his pocket, “(Y/N) will you marry me?”

The crowd goes wild as you nod your head. You were filled with emotions and lean down to kiss him. He wraps his arms around you and you smile.

“So this is why you got me tickets isn’t it?”

He nods and smiles, “I wanted it to be special.”

Sick Phanniversary➳Phan

Okay. It has been 6 freaking months since I last posted a fic. I have lots, but I never finish them. Like this is a serious issue ya know? And school literally wants me dead. BUT! PROMPTS ARE STILL OPEN!Love you all!

By the way, credits to the beta @moonontheluna! She was amazing on beta-ing the fic!


Phil’s POV
I woke up to the sound of some music playing loudly, only for someone to lower to a quieter volume. Was Dan awake? I opened my eyes to squint at the bright light of Dan’s computer from the desk. Dan was coughing while typing something on the computer.

“Dan?” I mumbled sleepily.

“Hey babe,” he turned around.

“Dan, what are you doing?” I asked.

“It’s a surprise. Happy Anniversary.” He yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“Come to bed Dan.”

“Mmmno I have to finish this,” he said before coughing and sniffling.

“Are you ill? You’ve been coughing a lot lately.”

“Maybe?”

“You need to come to bed now.”

“But Phil, I need to finish this,” Dan whined.

I got up slowly and hugged him from behind.

“Babe,you can finish that tomorrow. It’s….. 5 am,” I said, checking the clock.

“Can I at least bring my computer to bed?”

“Only for a few minutes.”

Dan grabbed his laptop and carried it with him to bed. I sat next to him and he continued his working (which he didn’t let me see). I grabbed my phone to keep myself occupied.

I answered a few messages and checked my Twitter, and when I turned, I found Dan fast asleep against the head of the bed, his head moved to the side.

He looked so cute that I wanted to take a picture of him. I needed to have him laying more comfortably in order to avoid back pain, but I didn’t want him to wake up. I grabbed some blankets and placed them on him. Rubbing his back, I shifted the pillow under his head and moved the computer to the floor.

“Happy anniversary bear,” I said with a grin.

——————–
Dan’s POV
I woke up to a pounding headache and a stuffed nose.

“Phiiiil,” I mumbled. He must have covered me with a blanket since I felt warm, almost unbearably, and it appeared to be noon as the sun was shining brightly through the windows.
“Good morning bear! Happy phanniversary!” Phil greeted with gentle kisses all over my face.

“Phil, I’m sick!” I chuckled.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re finally up.”

“Wha-” I paused to yawn. “What time is it?”

“Two in the afternoon.”

“Ugh,” I groaned and pushed myself up, trying to get into a sitting position, but ended up falling back down to the bed.

“Oh bear,” he sighed. “What were you trying to do?”

“I was going to get up and make us pancakes.”

“I already ate. Plus, I made you cupcakes!”

“Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”

“I understand. So how are you-”

I interrupted Phil with a coughing fit the groaned. “It was better when I was asleep.”

“It wasn’t because I missed you,” he pouted.

“Aww Phil,” I said, then yawned.

“I think you need to sleep a bit more” he said while rubbing my aching chest.

“I want to, but we should to go to Manchester. We’ve done it every year.”

“Dan, you’re ill, we can’t go today.”

“But-”

“No buts. We can have a lazy day and I’ll cuddle you all day until you’re better,” he said with a grin.

I sighed, giving in. “Thank you. I love you”

“I love you more.”
—————–
Phil’s POV
After making some lunch and helping Dan take some medicine, I ran out to the market to get tissues and more cold medicine. When I came back, I found a sleepy Dan scrolling through Tumblr.

“Hey, wanna cuddle and watch movies?”

“Huh?” he mumbled, his eyes drooping.

“Wanna watch movies and cuddle?”

“Yeah” he said, breaking off to cough.

“Do you want to watch movies in our bedroom?”

“I think I’d rather stay here.”

I nodded, heading back to our room to grab some supplies. I brought the duvet and I placed it over him while he rubbed his eyes.

We decided to watch Free! Eternal Summer, but I knew that Dan was going to fall asleep at any time.

“Dan, if you want to sleep that’s okay.”

“I’m fine, just a bit drowsy”

I gave him a kiss on his forehead, not completely believing him, and he yawned. He gently placing his head on my shoulder.

“Wanna open your gift?” I asked suddenly with a grin.

“Gift?” He smiled excitedly, looking slightly more awake.

“Here,” I turned and grabbed the box that I had on the floor.
“Aww, thanks babe!” Dan hugged me. He opened the box and took the gift out. It was a pooh bear onesie and a Piglet plush with some Pooh dvds.

He was so excited that he decided to put his onesie on, which was a bit small for him. He got back in the couch and yawned, more tired than excited now.

We continued watching the show, Dan’s eyes almost completely shut at this point.

“Dan, go to sleep”
“I’m fine Phil. Plus, I want to enjoy my anniversary with you,” he mumbled, placing his head on my shoulder.

I couldn’t tell exactly when his breathing slowed down enough to
promise unconsciousness, but at some point I tried whispering his name to see if he was awake

Nothing. No response. Dan’s head turns a little to the side, but his lips don’t twitch and his eyes stay closed.

“I love you spork” I smiled as I brushed his hair with my fingers, him finally sleeping peacefully.

loveaominedaiki  asked:

Haizaki and Hara fluff pleasseee

can we just appreciate how shit i am at fluff my heart is too Dark


Haizaki Shougo

“You okay?” you mumble, barely audible over the sound of train versus track. Smiling vaguely, he nods a response. It’s been a tiring day for the two of you; no sleep to begin hours of walking around town (enough shopping, far too much food and you hadn’t exactly appreciated the fight Haizaki had gotten in with some street basketballers).

“How long left?” he asks, eyes closing against his will.

“Just sleep.” The evening is painting violets and navy blues onto the sky and he chuckles and holds you tighter and the sound of trains is nothing more than a lullaby.


Hara Kazuya

“Move, for God’s sake.” Sighing, you continue to attempt pushing him away from your body: it’s too hot for hugs, people are giving the two of you weird looks and it’s exhausting having to try hold his limp limbs away.

“Don’t wanna.”

“I will pour water down your back.” Your threat means little though- with the temperature as it is, he’d probably welcome it.

“I just wanna hug,” persists Hara and you figure you may as well give in before he tries nuzzling you. (It’s never a good idea start screaming because your boyfriend, aka a strange guy, is tickling you on a bus).

Imagine if Dean had to teach Cas how to slow dance.

 “So you take your hand and put it here” Dean takes Cas’s hand in his

“Like this, Dean?”

“Yes exactly like that Cas” Cas looks so excited that he’s doing something right and his face lighting up and his eyes are gazing into Dean’s. Those beautiful blue eyes Dean can never get enough of.

“Then you take your other hand and hold the other person close” He pulls Cas closer.

“Then what?”

“Then you just kind of rock back and forth- like swaying” 

Pure Laughter

flip flappers was hands down best anime of 2016

anyway tickle fight between girlfriends

Sniff sniff sniff.

Cocona sighs as her concentration is once again broken by Papika’s nose nuzzling her ear, and she looks up from her math worksheet to face the girl who’s been clinging to her all afternoon. Papika doesn’t even flinch back as her head turns, resulting in their noses practically touching as Cocona meets sparkling blue eyes with a stern glare.

“Seriously, Papika, stop that. I’m trying to focus.”

“But you smell so nice today!” Papika beams, and promptly begins rubbing her face in Cocona’s hair as if to prove it. She’s been in a cuddly mood all day, and while earlier, Cocona was more than happy to oblige her girlfriend, right now, she really just wants to catch up on her studies.

“Yes, so you’ve told me,” Cocona says, gently pushing Papika away. “And you can smell me all you want after I’ve finished my problem set, okay?”

Papika pouts slightly but nods, crawling backwards until she’s a good meter away. Cocona, satisfied, makes use of the new space to stretch her arms above her head and then return to her work. But before Cocona can so much as even grab her pencil again, she’s unceremoniously tackled from behind, strong arms curling around her waist as Papika’s telltale giggles resound in her ears.

Oh, forget the worksheet. Cocona wasn’t actually getting anywhere anyway.

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Steve, Bucky

Summary: Steve’s co-worker, Bucky, is both kind and interested in Steve and his life, and when Steve fails to react to his pokes Bucky becomes very interested in finding out where Steve is ticklish. Coffee shop!AU.

A/N: This was based on an incident at work, but unfortunately (or fortunately. still haven’t decided) my co-worker wasn’t as stubborn as Bucky.

Words: 2 226

Bucky had, for some reason, taken a great interest in him. It had started on his very first day working at the café, and had continued until it had become a daily routine for Steve to get question after question fired at him, usually ranging from small ones such as his favorite color to bigger and more personal ones that he wasn’t always sure if he should answer. But Bucky never did it to make him uncomfortable, but simply because he wanted to get to know him, and it was both flattering and incredibly confusing.

Bucky had worked there part time for about a year now, claiming that while it could be exhausting it was a good way to get some extra cash while he was studying. That had incidentally been the reason Steve had applied for the position too. He reckoned most of his co-workers had similar stories.

The truth was Steve had been worried about that job, because he’d worked at a similar place before and it had not even been close to being bearable. This café wasn’t much different than other cafés, with the exception of Bucky’s neverending kindness that seemed to always surface the most when Steve needed it to. And because of that Steve wasn’t worried anymore, because knowing that he’d get to see and talk to Bucky at least once a week was enough.

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anonymous asked:

Lately I've been SO into iwasuga, like I just crave it?? They'd be so sweet together. Like they'd meet at a practice match and iwa would blush however much he wishes he wouldnt while suga gets his number into iwas phone with a "lets talk later~" and when Oikawa teases iwa abt it later iwas like "shit. i can't deal with 2 oikawas" but he later realizes that, thank god, they aren't exactly the same but oik + suga do get along well enough to joke abt eloping and leaving iwa behind (1/2 probably)

But it’s when they’re alone that makes iwa not mind all the teasing. Bc when they’re alone suga drops the teasing (well, most of it) and they can just be sickly sweet together. Like if someone were to walk in on them while they’re like that, that person would puke with the amount of fluff jammed down their throat. Iwasuga would be all ily’s and soft stolen kisses and cuddling and getting as close to each other as possible. Sorry I can’t really form my thoughts into words rn but: iwasuga (2/2)

Three Seconds (Wonho)

I was too lazy to read it over tbh so i’m sorry for any errors! Also, I havent written like this in a while so i’m sorry if its bad~


Genre: Fluff~

Word Count: 900


“I hope the set’s cool!” An overly excited Minhyuk called from the back seat. “I hope the actress is cute…” Jooheon said, barely audible enough for the other members to here. “Like you can even look at a girl without losing it” Hyunwoo retorted while shaking his head. Changkyun smirked. He knew that you were set to be the lead in their newest music video, and he knew about Hoseok’s infatuation with you. He wasn’t exactly subtle about his feelings. 

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Admiration [Narcel]

Summary: Marcel gets a secret admirer and he has no idea how to react.

A.N.: I’m craving to write a zombie!au so this might be the last one! Based on this post!

I think you’re cute without your glasses on. x

Marcel stops at his locker, stops where he’s pinning his bag with his knee against the lower lockers, stops where he’s got his hand around his Chem 201 book, just stops because there’s a piece of pink paper on the bottom shelf, what he thought was a flier and had grabbed to throw out but is now definitely anything but and he doesn’t understand

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ledgem  asked:

Vaughn/Rhys, their first quiet moment together after everything. Rhys always had a... thing for Vaughn's abs and now he's utterly fascinated by the beard. up to you if it's established relationship or not. also, hope you'll feel better soon! <3

I meant to reply to this much sooner, oops! Apologies for my slowness.

I went around in circles a bit on the prompt since in a way, I wrote this scenario with The Spaces We Share. (It’s not after everything, but it’s their first quiet moment together since Helios fell, so, well, close enough.) But because that story was from Vaughn’s POV, it’s worth returning to it from Rhys’ perspective.

Since no, he didn’t sleep that whole night through.

(Beware: fluff ahead. So much fluuuuuuuuffffffff. ;)

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A Most Wonderful Sight - a Newt/Tina fic

Tagging: @pinkdiamonddolphin​ (hope you feel better, honey!)

Requested by @chronictvaddict, who wanted “their first night with baby phoenix. like not at the hospital but at home? please?”

I can’t believe I’m actually writing this, but…if breast-feeding makes you uncomfortable then I’m sorry but it’s natural and I honestly don’t see a problem with it, hence why I’m not putting a proper warning. It’s a) in the privacy of their own home, and b) not sexual at all, it’s literally just to feed the baby. If that really bothers you, then consider this a “warning”.

No warnings - just fluff.

It’s really short, so I hope you don’t mind – it’s just a cute fluffy little thing!

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“Sam, what is fluff?” Castiel asked from the desk in their bedroom. He was squinting at the laptop when Sam looked up from his book. 

“Um… like a marshmallow topping… what are you looking at?”

“After you told me of the high school play and ‘fanfiction’, I wanted to see these transformative works and interpretations of The Winchester Gospels.”

Sam cringed. He hated when Castiel called them that. He also hated that Castiel was looking at fanfiction.

“Someone is writing about marshmallow Fluff?”

“No, it seems to be a genre.”

Well, then… Sam had no idea what that meant. He shrugged and the conversation seemed to be over. And Castiel was still reading. But now he was sighing wistfully or chuckling every once in a while. And Sam was going crazy not knowing what Castiel was reacting too.

“Oh my god.” Sam muttered, dropping his book and scooting to the end of the bed, close enough to the desk to see over Castiel’s shoulder.

Castiel was reading a scene that described them cuddling on a sofa while drinking hot cocoa and it was nauseatingly sweet.

“Cas what the hell?”

“Are we supposed to engage in these types of activities? This… fluff? It seems as if most of these writers think it is essential in healthy relationships.”

Sam froze for a moment, wanting to pick his words carefully.

“No relationship is exactly like another. What works for some people, doesn’t necessarily work for all. It’s up to the people involved to decide what is right for them. Do you want to be… fluffy?”

Castiel tilted his head and furrowed his brows as he thought about it.

“I have never tried it, therefore I don’t know if I want it.”

“Okay. Well, this relationship is a team effort. So… you pick out things that you think look interesting or enjoyable and we’ll try them out. You wanna cuddle and drink cocoa? Sure, I’ll give it a whirl. You want to pick strawberries and make shortcake? Whatever. We’ll do it together.”

“Can we harvest honey from bees?”

Sam was so tempted to say he had an allergy to bees…

Enough - Part 3 (Michael Clifford fluff)

Part 1 // Part 2

A sudden and frantic banging on the front door pulled me out of my daze. I blinked my eyes, confusion setting in as I couldn’t recall exactly why I had been standing in the middle of my living room staring at the wall. I glanced down, the glass from a broken picture frame dangerously close to my feet. My head cocked slightly to the side as I gazed at it, attempting to remember exactly when I’d smashed it. I’d smashed a lot of things over the past few days.

The harsh banging began anew, startling me as I jumped and I realized that I’d zoned out once again. I moved uneasily toward the front door, racking my brain in an attempt to figure out who could possibly be here.

My sleep-deprived brain forced my uneasy hand to reach out and turn the doorknob but as soon as I did, I wished I hadn’t. My bloodshot eyes locked immediately on his and my shock was surely unmistakable.

Michael.

Adrenaline surged through my exhausted body and my heart began pounding furiously. Michael’s wide and unblinking eyes never left mine and his hand came up from his side, reaching ever so slowly toward my face. He released a shaky breath before finally whispering, “Baby…”

Anger flooded my system at his quiet declaration, my wits returning as I responded with a steady “Fuck you, Michael,” before reaching for the door with my now strong hand and slamming it in his surprised face. Both of my fists landed on the closed door and my forehead fell against the cool wood. I breathed deeply in and out of my nose, attempting to control my emotions and slow my heart rate.

“Y/N, please. Please open the door. Please, please just let me explain,” he begged, practically shouting through the door. I jumped back as he began wildly banging on it again, pleading with me to open it and let him in.

I sank slowly to the floor, unable to tear my eyes away from the door knowing that he was just on the other side. It would have been so easy to open it up and let him in. It would have been so simple to let him hold me and make me feel better for a while. It would have been unbearable to trust him again and then watch him walk away.

After several minutes I heard what sounded like his back hitting the door and sliding down to the floor. I closed my eyes and pictured him on the other side. In my mind, his head was in his hands and he had a defeated slump in his shoulders. In reality however, I realized that I had no idea what he was doing here, and I was letting my imagination run wild.

I decided against saying anything, but instinctively my body moved slowly toward the door on my hands and knees, my palm coming to rest flatly on the door that I envisioned Michael leaning against. Suddenly, a light thump caused me to gasp almost silently and pull my hand back, but I replaced it again as I realized that it was his head thumping repeatedly into the door. I sighed lightly and turned lean my back up against the door, moving slowly and quietly as to not alert him to my presence.

After several long moments, silent except for the steady banging of his head, he finally spoke again.

“I don’t know if you’re there, and I know I don’t deserve another chance. But Y/N, please. I’m begging you to hear me out,” he said softly. Unable to make a decision about my next move, I just turned slightly and placed the fingertips of my right hand against the cool wood of the door, my forehead leaning against it and eyes slipping closed.

Michael let his head fall against the door one last time, a deep sigh pushing through his lips as he spoke again. “If you can hear me, please just come out after I leave. I’m leaving something here for you. This wasn’t how I wanted this to go, but I need for you to know the truth,” he said, his defeated tone bringing a fresh round of tears to my eyes.

I heard him stand and followed suit, my ear pressing to the door as I heard him set something down on the ground. I held my breath, willing my emotions to remain in check until after he’d gone.

I listened closely to Michael’s slowly disappearing footsteps, followed by the roar of a car engine and the sound of the vehicle turning off of my quiet street. Slowly, tentatively, I cracked open the door and immediately saw an ornately decorated box at my feet.

It was covered in memories: small slips of paper out of the insides of fortune cookies that the two of us had opened together, movie stubs, concert tickets; small reminders of every time that I had visited him on tour, along with items that dated back to before he even left. He had saved everything. Most importantly, though, were the photographs. There were pictures of the two of us woven throughout the mementos. Some of them I had seen, but some of them were new even to my eyes: a candid shot of me staring at the stars on a beach somewhere, a picture of me asleep in a hotel room with my hair everywhere and one of Michael’s t-shirts stretched across my body, one of me watching a sunset from a balcony, our room service dinner forgotten in the background.

My hands shook as I reached down and delicately grasped the lid, lifting it gingerly as if I was afraid of its contents. With one eye closed, I peeked beneath the lid, releasing a sigh as I saw only sheets of paper. I sat down on the porch next to the box, placing the lid beside me as I began to lift out the pages. Letter after letter was pulled from inside as I skimmed through a few before realizing that they were written on hotel stationery.

I set a few letters down in the lid and picked up a fresh sheet from the middle of the box and settled back against the wall to read it:

Dear Y/N,

You’re asleep now, and I know that I have to leave soon - it seems impossible this time. I’m glad you liked my tattoo. “To The Moon”. I almost caved when you kept pestering me about why I’d chosen that phrase. I almost told you the truth about it, but I don’t know if I ever will. I used to tell myself at the very beginning that the reason why I always left you alone was because you deserved better than me. I told myself that it was because I wanted you to get pissed at me for stringing you along. That I wanted you to realize that you were too good for me and move on. The longer I keep this up though, the more I realize that that’s just another bullshit excuse. The truth is that I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared that if I admit my feelings to you, if I admit them to everyone, to myself, that it becomes real and you could destroy me just by leaving. I’m scared to love you. I’m terrified.

Fuck, Y/N, but I really do. I fucking love you so much. Every time I leave you alone in a hotel room like this, I know what I’m doing to you. I know I’m hurting you and it fucking kills me. I want to be with you. I want you to come on tour with me and I want to tell everyone that I love you and that you love me and I want you to get pissed at me for playing too many video games and for throwing my shit all over the hotel room and for being too loud on the bus. And I want to pretend that I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, but in reality I do all of that stuff because I know it irritates you and I think you’re so fucking cute when you’re mad at me. And I want to apologize and cuddle you and I want you to kiss all over my face when you get over it. I want everything. I want everything with you.

“To The Moon”. Did I tell you that I got that tattoo on the place on my arm where your head rests in your sleep? Sometimes I lay down with my arm stretched out across the pillow and I can almost feel you lying there. I want to go back over to you and feel you lying there now. I’m watching you sleep, and there’s a little crease in between your eyebrows that isn’t there when I’m holding you. The fact that I know that I’m going to get up and walk out the door in a minute rather than going over and smoothing it out feels like a fucking knife is stabbing through my chest. I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry that I’m such a fuck up. Maybe one day I won’t be, but I wouldn’t count on me if I were you. I’ve hurt you too many times.

I know that I’m going to be too much of a chicken shit to leave this letter for you, but I promise that I’ll save it. Just like I’ve saved them all. Because one day I’ll be able to tell you the truth about everything, and that’s when I’ll give them to you - if you’re even still interested in hearing it. But please just know that I love you, okay? I love you - to the moon and back.

Michael.

I ran my fingers along the page, my heart thumping wildly in my chest as I dug through the rest of the box. There were probably hundreds of letters inside, some long and some short. Some funny and light-hearted, some heart-wrenching and tear stained. I frantically grabbed for the few that I’d set in the lid of the box, sighing in relief when I noticed that the top one was the most recent, written on the paper of the hotel in town where he was currently staying. This one contained only the details of the location of his hotel, along with his room number and one word:

Please.

My heart still thrashing wildly in my chest, I jumped up from the porch and sprinted inside to collect my shoes, wallet, and keys. I ran to my car and raced to the spot where I knew in my heart that I needed to go. I parked the car and hurried inside, hoping that I wasn’t too late. I needed to do this.

His head snapped up as he heard the bell above the door ring, a small, fond smile stretching across his face as I entered the shop.

“Hey Y/N,” he said cheerily. “Long time, no see! What can I do for you?”

I took a deep breath, mentally reassuring myself that I was making the right decision. “I need your help, Dave. Can you do me a huge favor?”

Part 4