so glad to see him get his confidence back

bring that fire, babe (tom holland imagine/oneshot)

a/n: based on “kiss me”by olly murs.

I got this idea when Tom was asked to sing electricity in that one interview with Peter Travers (?) and he got all shy and flustered. I know he doesn’t sing in public anymore (unless bribed with popcorn ;)) but I liked imagining him liking someone so much he would force himself to get over that fear and sing anyways.



If you guys wanna send me requests, please feel free!

xx NK

p.s. thank you for all the support on my other imagines. More of my stories are on my wattpad account: norcula. Masterlist also in my bio. 


The cold wind of New York City bit into my skin as I clutched my coat closer to my body. Even with Harrison walking beside me and the rest of the Hoco gang swarming around me, I was chilled to the bone.


I think I nodded when Haz asked. But I’m not too sure.

Tom turned back to look at the two of us. His eyes glazed over me for a moment before he looked to Harrison for confirmation of something. Confused, I watched his jaw clench and he turned back once again.

What’s his problem?

The gang filed in through a door one after the other as I watched Zendaya holler. Tom looked positively horrified, which was both entertaining and concerning. Haz held the door open for me and I followed behind them-only to realise why Tom had reacted the way he had.

It was a karaoke bar.

“Nope! Nope! I’m leaving! Goodbye!”

I bolted back towards the door but Haz got a hold of me. With the biggest shit eating grin, his hands moved from my shoulders to my arms as he quite literally revolved me around to face the stage.

Tom and I exchanged a look of mutual horror.

It was one of the things we had bonded over when we first met. Granted, I had barely known the guy. But he had opened up to me almost immediately. That coupled with the fact we were friends with the same people, more or less living on the set of the same movie, was it really surprise I liked him more immensely than I should have?

Zendaya’s enthusiasm broke me out of my almost panic attack. I noticed Haz’s hands were still on me and when he realised it too, he moved them away quickly.

“Who’s first?”

She had a microphone in her hand that Jacob quickly grabbed. The rest of the gang broke out into applause as we took a seat at the table closest to the stage. He bowed several times and performed a great version of “Uptown Funk”. Returning to the table, he was greeted with high-fives and “YASS bro”.

I swallowed hard.

Zendaya was next. She did what she did best-worked what little crowd there was with “Yoncé”, dishing out moves akin to Queen B herself. Everyone in that dark, dingy hole in the ground honoured her with a standing ovation worthy of the Oscars ceremony.

As one by one took a turn, sometimes offering me or Tom to take a turn first, my anxiety just got worse and worse. I turned to Tom, who looked much the same.

In the dim lighting of the bar, his hair was so many shades of dark and light, it was hard to pinpoint on any exact one. He ran a hand through it, making me question what shampoo he used because it looked so soft. His eyes raked up and down the floor as he fidgeted with his fingers. I was surprised to see myself doing almost the same thing.

When his eyes turned to me, I froze though.

Unaware of what I should do, I quickly turned away to Harrison. He was on his feet, flashing me his signature smirk. He passed me to quickly whisper something into Tom’s ear. His eyes widened. But otherwise, he didn’t react.

He looked to me once from across the table and then looked back to the stage.

What the hell is going on?

“Hello people of New York City!”

Harrison said loudly, sounding like a baseball commentator. His voice actually boomed so loud, static floated through the air nearly deafening us all.

“Sorry about that.”

He almost whispered. I laughed a little, rubbing my hands on my trousers. My foot tapped to its own accord as he leaned in a little closer to speak once more.

“Unfortunately, you shan’t be blessed with my vocals right now.”

The gang and I exchanged looks of confusion. It seemed like no one knew what the actual hell was going on.

“Instead, give it up for my best mate, Thong-ass!”

I heard myself laughing at the nickname he’d given his friend after a little incident where Tom had to be scanned for the Spider-man suit wearing just a thong, revealing most of his ass.

But I could also see Haz almost literally pull Tom from his seat at the table. Jacob helped push him forward too until he found himself standing on stage.

He stood still, looking completely scared out of his mind.

I could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

He closed his eyes and exhaled, looking like he had to do this or die trying.

Tom gripped the microphone in his hand as the opening notes began to play.

And I recognised them instantly.


I looked to my left to see Haz smirking. Dumbfounded by what was happening, Tom opened his mouth. And the room filled with a clear, accented voice singing the lyrics to one of my favourite songs of all time- “kiss me” by Olly Murs.

I was transfixed by the way he seemed to be just singing to me-making eye contact, reaching his hand out as if to touch me. I watched in awe as he not only hit every note but carried himself so well on stage it no longer surprised me that he once led a musical on the West End. He moved around effortlessly, emphasizing just where he had to and hitting that sweet high note near the end like a pro.

The song ended and I felt myself getting to my feet and clapping like a seal trapped in the body of a mad woman. At least, that’s what Haz told me later that night.

Tom looked shyly at his feet and then joined us back again. I felt myself floating towards him. But instead of offering my heartiest congratulations, I stood by and stared.

I stared because I was so wildly attracted to him.

I mean, who wouldn’t be?

He was smart and charismatic. He danced and acted and apparently sang like an angel. He was the perfect combination of humble and a narcissistic twat. That and he looked like a leading man out of a Jane Austen novel.

Even surrounded by our friends and their attention, his eyes found mine. He sidestepped to stand right in front of me-so close that I could feel his breath in my hairline. I could smell his cologne in the air between us. I could feel my heart beat like a freight train getting ready to run itself off track.

“You were great. That was a great song choice…..and uh, you were just….you were amazing.”

I managed to stutter out. Embarrassed by how tongue-tied I was, I looked up to see him licking his lips. Gone was the stuttering mess of a man who was just talking to our friends a minute ago. Now, there was this confident looking man with darkening eyes, wearing just a hint of shyness and apprehension.

“Glad you thought so. It was all for you.”

My heart quite literally stopped. Despite my instincts to fall back or run away, I looked up at him. And found not one trace of insincerity in his eyes. His fingers laced with mine as he closed the distance between us.

“If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been flirting with you-have been all year.”

I laughed, wrapping my arms around his neck to lower his face to my level.

“And you’ve been shit at it.”

I teased.


He asked. I nodded. He smirked and pulled me so close our bodies were pressed together. Then he kissed me so hard, I thought we were both going to be knocked down. Our lips moved together until the clearing of voices and not-so-subtle sneezing and other noises caused us to separate.

Tom smiled at our friends and turned back to me to say.

“How about now?”

“S’okay. It’ll get better with practice though.”

“Yeah? You offering?”

He asked, smirking like no tomorrow. But I could see the glimmer of hope and excitement in his eyes too.

“Yeah-I am.”

Since the start of Arrival era, Youngjae has just been so comfortable and outgoing. When you compare him from before, he would just stay in the back or edge and be quiet, keep neutral. And seeing him now, he is talking when they accept trophies, he is talking when they are interviewing them on Mcountdown or The Show, something he rarely did because it was either the other members but unusually him. He also is so comfortable being there, before he would just stay neutral, do nothing, and now you see him making cute smiles, peace signs, silly faces, throwing hearts and camera bombing the mcs. I really enjoy seeing Youngjae like this. It makes me want to cry because back then i was sad because it seemed he was never talked to or noticed and it makes me happy seeing him now being more open and happy and goofing around. I’m glad his confidence has gone up, it’s all I want, for him to be comfortable and happy.
And I hope one day he will be confident enough to be able to say confidently that he is the Nich.In.Bi.

Wet and Wild

A continuation of a snuggle prompt from @bkst-tutu1b with much cheerleading and assistance from @awesomeeyeroll (You both rock!)


The Spanish sun was far too bright and hot for her pounding head.  Claire regretted saying she’d meet Jamie at the water park the moment she stepped outside. They were together until the early morning hours on the beach wrapped in a blanket they might have permanently borrowed from a lifeguard. Their extensive conversation began with her asking about how he got dragged to the club by the two bearded blokes that had also brought him into A & E. An innocent enough question yet one that needed some intense family history, convoluted to say the least.

“It would seem I make poor personal choices when I’m with them, doesn’t it?” he considered. “They’ve just always been there so I’ve never needed any friends apart from my cousins. I mean, my sister and Willie were different. I have to love them, don’t I? So how big is your family?”

“Just me.” she said quietly. “Mum and Dad died in a car accident when I was five. After that is was me and my uncle. He was an archeologist so I grew up traveling all over the world. It was honestly amazing until he died last year. I’m just glad he got to see me graduate uni.”

Ah Dhia, I just stepped in it didn’t I?” he blushed. “We’ll leave that alone until we get back. Agreed?”

Claire nodded. She squeezed his hand as she leaned closer into him.

“It’s really okay, Jamie. We’ve both had an unconventional upbringing but we turned out well enough.” she affirmed. “It’s not how I thought it would be but I was taught how to be self sufficient, confident, and grateful for what I had.”

Jamie mumbled his agreement.  “Mhmm.”

Their conversation fell quiet for a few minutes with just the sound of the lapping waves in the background. After such an intense exchange it was just what they needed to decompress. Jamie quickly devised a plan for the following day to spend more time with her but without the heaviness.

“So how about meeting up at Western Water Park about half eleven?”


Claire bought her entry ticket and walked through the front gate. She adjusted her sunglasses then began scanning the area for the red headed Scot.

“I’m an idiot. A stupid, stupid idiot! Why did I say I’d do this?” she mumbled to herself. “Why?”

Jamie tapped her shoulder from behind, “It’s because I’m cute.”

She grabbed his wrist, bending it backwards as she screeched. Before he could cry out he found himself lying on the hard tarmac looking up at her smiling face. He made a mental note to remember that sneaking up on her would be taking his life into his hands.

“You’re not wrong, Fraser.” Claire admitted. “And if you want to stay that way I’d suggest you don’t surprise me anytime soon.”

He just rolled his eyes then reached his arm towards her. “Message received.”

Before Claire could help him up she was shoved by someone yelling at her rather angrily in French. Jamie was pulled to his feet by the other girl who smothered him in kisses while she checked him over for injuries. When Claire pushed the pair apart she was shocked to be at the receiving end of a slap.

“I don’t bloody think so!” Claire bellowed. She moved nimbly to return the blow multiple times. As the stunned girl sniffled Jamie grabbed Claire’s arm and dragged her out of the park.

“Long story short,” he panted. “That was Annalise. We dated. For a summer. Her family owns a bar here.”

He watched her face relax as she ran her fingers through her unruly hair.

“I see,” she sighed. “Since we’re going for full disclosure I got my final divorce decree a few months ago.”

“I think we’re up to date then!”

Claire snorted, “You said date. So you really want to take a chance on a nomadic Brit with a black belt?”

“I did. And I do.” he replied.

Sterek/American Assassin AU in which Stiles leaves Beacon Hills for college and gets recruited by the military to be an assassin because of the special skills he obtained while saving his hometown from supernatural threats for the last 3 years. And he’s actually amazing at it. He travels the world, hones his skills, and lies to everyone back home that he’s still just an average college kid because he’s going on all these top secret missions and killing high profile terrorists. And meanwhile back in Beacon Hills (where Derek’s still the alpha and no one is dead because this is my AU and I do what I want) some new hunters have come to town and don’t follow the Argents rules about the treaty they have with the newly reestablished Hale pack. As things begin to get more dire, and the pack realizes they’re in over their heads, Stiles gets some leave and comes home to visit. His dad has heard rumors about the super assassin from some ex-military deputies who still have connections, but no one has no idea who he is because Stiles is GOOD. He’s quick, clean, and unseen.

So the pack is glad to see him back, thinking he’s just been busy with classes and unable to take a break to come visit for X number of years. But they quickly realize that he’s different. Everything about him. There’s a confidence about him that wasn’t there before. A broadness to his shoulders. Scars that he never actually explains to anyone who asks. And after they catch up on the regular gossip, they tell him about these asshole hunters. They’ve already hurt several of the pack members, nothing serious yet but clearly working their way up to something. They’re testing boundaries, strengths and weaknesses. Stiles promises to help however he can, and the pack agrees, but what can he do? As far as they know, he doesn’t have any weapons training. Sure he’s a pro at the research, but these hunters are human. There’s nothing to research. Still, Stiles says, he’s there 100% for the pack. Whatever they need.

And then hunters start turning up dead. Nothing supernatural. Like, bullet to the brain in their motel room dead. Sheriff can’t make heads or tails of it. No trace evidence left behind. The deputies start talking about that assassin their military buddies have told them about. The pack thinks maybe it was a coincidence, until it happens again. Another hunter dead in a parking lot. Two taken down by some kind of blade within the preserve. Way too close to the Hale house for comfort.

And then three of them go after Derek, thinking the pack is somehow responsible. A Hail Mary, going after the alpha to put a stop to whoever or whatever is killing their people. But Stiles is suddenly there. Derek’s tied with wolfsbane laced rope, and he can do nothing but watch as Stiles expertly fights off all three guys and shoots them with one of their own guns.

With three bodies littering the ground around them, leaking blood on the pavement, Derek stares up at Stiles like he’s never seen him before.

“Stiles… what the hell?!”

“Yeah, so, maybe I haven’t just been busy at college for the past four years.”

anonymous asked:

An imagine of breaking up with Eric because you've fallen in love with Dylan? Dylan knows and he's torn by it, but he secretly loves you as well?

  “Hello?” You answered your phone as soon as you heard it ringing. It was a not so nice saturday afternoon, just a day after you broke up with Eric Harris.

   “Hey, it’s Dylan.” The other side spoke. As soon as you heard his voice, you slightly tilted your head backwards and rolled your eyes - you knew that he was only calling because of Eric. After all, you could’ve expected that.

    “Oh, hi,” you greeted him back, keeping your voice polite and friendly. “what’s up?”

    “You broke up with Eric?” He went straight for it, getting a reckless ‘yeah’ from you. At that point, one could already tell that you were fed up with the topic and just wanted to forget that the relationship has ever existed.
    “Woah, um… mind coming over to mine?”

    “No, I wouldn’t. Right now?” You asked for your own assurance.

    “Yeah.” Dylan said. You informed him that you’re gonna be on your way there in a minute as a response, then hung up. Making your hair before beginning your journey, you made sure that you still don’t look like a trash even after the breakup. However, many emotions were stored up inside of your head, you being just too good at dissembling your issues.


    Dylan was sitting on the edge of his bed, fully devastated. His head was tilted down and the only entertainment for him was staring at the floor, while many memories and thoughts would run through his head. He’d laugh at some, but some made Dylan emotional - mainly because he really cared about your and Eric’s well-being.

    Another thing that would constantly frustrate Dylan over the past 24 hours was the fact of him having certain feelings for you. He was always secretly jealous of Eric, since Dylan has always wished for a girl like you - but the true, great friend he was, he’d never even try to hit on you. Now, though, after you broke up with Eric, he was practically free to tell you. But there were so many obstacles in achieving that target for him, and so many questions as well - his mind was a dump of chaotic mess because of those. 

    Dylan got quickly disrupted from overthinking as soon as he heard you knocking on his bedroom door. His mom probably let you in, knowing that you’re one of his good friends who Dylan uses to hang out with the most.
    Without hesitating, he stood up and opened the door for you.

    “Hey.” You greeted him with a smile.

    “What’s up,” Dylan dodged out of your way, still holding the door open. “come in.” 

     You obeyed, stepping inside as you smelled the iconic scent of his room. 
    “So… what do you wanna do?” Standing in the middle of Dylan’s little kingdom, you turned at him, trying your best to seem as natural as possible, even though you were overwhelmed with stress. 

    “See, I’m just so sorry for what happened… but I believe it had to.” Dylan said. The honesty of his words were making you glad - because at least you could trust him. He made a step towards you, as it was enough for him to get acceptably close.
    “Yeah, it did… sorry for making mess, I couldn’t do it anymore.” Your eyes filled with guilt met with the ground for a second, but quickly looked back up at Dylan.

    “It’s okay, uh..” he rubbed the back of his neck, showing his sudden lack of confidence. “I just thought we’d hang out, I really do care about both of you and wanna keep in touch.” 

     “Don’t worry, it’s not like our friendships are falling apart… we’re fine.” Giggling, your eyes sparkled at Dylan. He was so worried and you’d feel bad for him, but it was very precious and sweet at the same time. 
     “I’m so glad you care, though. Thanks.” You added, not to leave him all ashamed.

     “You and Eric are fine together…?” Dylan tried to make sure - he would base his upcoming decisions on your answer. He passed you by and sat on the bed, gesturing that you’d sit next to him. You, of course, did.

     “Yeah, why’s that?” You wondered. 

     “I … nothing.” Dylan shook his head, disagreeing with his own self. He really wished he could tell you about his feelings towards you, but didn’t want to break you two apart. It was a hard moment for him, especially when you managed to keep pushing the truthful answer out of him.

     “Bullshit. Seriously though, what are you trying to tell me?” You nudged his shoulder playfully, even though it wasn’t much of a playful time for him.

     “Maybe something deeper.” He muttered.

     “Like what?” You tilted your head curiously, although beginning to get an unnerving feeling about this whole situation. You were surprised and afraid, yet insterested about anything he was hiding.

     “Maybe I have feelings for you, I dunno,” he desperately rested his forehead in his palms. “most likely though… and I feel like I can finally tell you, but I don’t wanna hurt Eric either.” 
     At that moment, you were completely shocked, your heart skipping a beat as you forgot everything you were supposed to say to comfort his insecurity. 

     “Do you.. do you love me?” You stuttered with a weak, quiet voice.

     Dylan remorsefully looked at you, gulping before he opened his mouth to say what he wanted to say. 

So I asked my friends on snapchat for a prompt to write something yoi and @urdumb-1 came up with mutual pining and angst. This is has very little pining and very little angst and mostly fluff and dense children whoops.

It was late and Victor hadn’t come back yet, so Yuuri was left alone in the hotel room, scrolling through his social media. Bored.

He rolled onto his back and thought about today’s events, blush blooming on his face as he thought about how soft Victor’s lips felt when he leapt on top of him at the rink. He remembered how Victor stared into his eyes, flickering down to his lips last second as they fell. Ugh, Yuuri couldn’t stop the grin spreading on his face flopping back onto his front and pressing his face into the pillow to hide it even though there was no one in the room.

Victor had kissed him. On the ice. After his literal love declaration for Victor wrung out into his quad flip at the end. In front of millions of people. On national TV. Ack.

“The only think he could think of to surprise me, indeed.” Yuuri murmured to himself.

“Surprise.” Yuuri’s mind went back to what Victor had said after the kiss. “Surprise.” Worry gnawed at his mind as he turned the word over and over in his head as dread ate at his chest.

Was surprise the only thing Victor thought of though? Did Victor even feel the same way? Or was it just a ploy to one up Yuuri’s surprise?

He clutch the pillow in his arms tighter into his chest curling up on his side into a position as comfortable as he could manage at the moment.

Had Yuuri thought about this all the wrong way? What if Victor did it for show?

No, the look in his eyes was definitely fond whenever Yuuri caught Victor staring at him.

But what if it was just platonically fond? Yuuri had absolutely no clue. Victor always told him he tended to think about the little things longer than necessary.

But this wasn’t little right? Yuuri had looked up to Victor with adoring eyes even since he was twelve. It’s not like he expected Victor, the “Living Legend” of the figure skating world, this beautiful amazing person that had never seemed more human before the kiss.

Now, Yuuri wasn’t sure if he was ready to face Victor walking into the hotel room right now, not when fear and worry and dread were swirling in his stomach. Whatever Victor felt for him, whether is was playful and competitive, or platonically fond, or (Yuuri dared to hope) romantic feelings, this kiss changed everything. Yuuri never felt farther away from Victor than he did when he first came to Hasetsu, not knowing was the worst.

After half an hour Victor still wasn’t back and Yuuri tense every time he heard footsteps in the hallway, listening out the mechanical whir of the lock. Every time the footsteps faded away and Yuuri was getting tired and decided to take a shower.

After taking his clothes off, Yuuri step into the shower and let the hot water run down his body, still thinking and worrying about Victor and whether or not he liked him back in the way Yuuri liked him. He sighed to himself. God he had fallen in so deep hadn’t he?

Yuuri dried himself and put on his pajamas ready for sleep and lay in bed with the lights still off waiting for sleep to take over, but his mind went back to Victor over and over, his mind drowning him in useless thoughts that debated back and forth.

Yes, Victor kissed him. And that meant something to Yuuri (God it meant so much Victor probably didn’t’ even know how much he affected Yuuri like this).Yuuri just wasn’t sure whether it meant anything to him. Victor would have done this a billion times with other people. He was so beautiful there was no way that he hadn’t kissed anyone else like that before. Again, Yuuri was “dime-a-dozen” in yet another part of his life.

He hated that that kiss, that kiss that made Yuuri’s whole face red with the thought of doing that again, meant nothing to Victor.

Yuuri turned over and buried his face into the pillow, berating himself for thinking so negatively. There was still a possibility that Victor did like him back.

A few minutes later, Yuuri’s thoughts calmed down enough for him to feel drowsy closing his eyes, he was grateful for the reprieve sleep brought him. At least he could put off facing Victor until the morning.

Yuuri woke when the bedroom lights turned on squeezing his eyes extra tight against the intruding light under his eyelids. Victor must have noticed his sleeping form facing the wall on the bed because Yuuri heard him whisper, “Oh shit,” to himself and promptly turned the lights back off followed by a series of shuffling feet and rustling suit cases.

Yuuri turned over to face the room and saw a sliver of light coming from behind the closed bathroom door and heard the running water of the shower turn off. Yuuri shifted in the bed and brought his arms up to rest his head on them comfortably. The movement made the blanket shift down the back of his torso, but the room wasn’t too cold as to warrant moving to pull it back up, besides Victor was coming out of the bathroom and Yuuri didn’t want to let Victor know he was still awake. Didn’t want to face him and his incessant buzzing thought about Victor’s feelings and the kiss and— every other thought that came with it.

Yuuri pretended to still be asleep when Victor came out of the bathroom, listening to Victor move around the room, to the other side of the twin beds.

To Yuuri’s surprise, Victor leaned over his bed and grabbed the edges of his blanket, and covered Yuuri’s shoulders. Yuuri saw, though slits between his eyelids, that Victor as still standing in front of him, not making a move to get in his own bed.

Yuuri’s hearing honed in on the sound of a tender sigh escaping Victor’s lips into the dark and quiet room, and then the soft shifting of Victor’s pajamas as Victor leaned over Yuuri again and—

Victor’s lips brushed his cheek and Yuuri stiffened, Yuuri’s breath catching in the back of his throat, as he stiffened under the touch of Victor’s lips, warm and soft. Unnoticed, Victor let his lips linger on Yuuri’s skin before after what felt like a millennia, pulling away.

Yuuri felt Victor’s breath brush the shell of his ear as he whispered, “Goodnight, Yuuri,” the soft ‘r’ in the way Victor said his name sounded like it rolled off his tongue so naturally. Yuuri was glad for the darkness in the room, because he didn’t want Victor seeing the bright red that must be all over his face. “I love you.”

Yuuri froze again at the words, the denial hitting him first. He was dreaming wasn’t he. Testing his theory, he whispered back, “Goodnight, Victor. I love you too.” It wasn’t possible for his eyes to get any wider now, the adrenaline in his veins making him near hysterical with confidence he felt in saying the words.

Seconds later, Yuuri heard more shifting of the hotel’s crisp sheets.

“Yuuri? Can I sleep with you?” Victor’s voice rang loud in Yuuri’s ears, still in disbelief of the situation. Victor said he loved him and now he’s asking to sleep in the same bed?? Not to mention so casually as if it was something he did every day! How was Victor so calm collected and casual about something like this??

“Mhm,” came the dumbfounded reply.

More shifting, and Yuuri lifted the blanket as shifted over for Victor to slide into the bed next to him.

Victor however had other ideas, his arms went around Yuuri’s waist and rested his head on Yuuri’s chest as the other man automatically pulled his arms around Victor and hand splayed between his shoulder blades and one resting on top of his hair to try and hold him closer and never let go.

“I love you,” Victor murmured again, he let out a content sigh and nuzzled the side of his face into Yuuri’s chest before lying still in his arms.

Yuuri must have gone mad. This isn’t real, Victor didn’t say he loved him and he wasn’t snuggling in the same bed with Yuuri.

“Victor?” Yuuri whispered.


“Am I dreaming?” May as well say it out right, said the bud of confidence and invincibility brought on by near hysteria.

Victor huffed in amusement. “I don’t know are you? I sure hope you are, because that’d make me the man of your dreams.”

The darkness made it even easier for Yuuri to visualise the smile on Victor’s lips. He smiled and put the thought away for a rainy day. Yuuri thought about Victor’s lips too much anyways.

LOOK. LOOK AT HIS LITTLE SMILE. This is the end of From Earth to Starbucks when Lassie has finally solved the case (with Shawn’s help) and Shawn is just SO HAPPY that Lassie has gotten his mojo back, and that he helped him, without him even knowing. He’ll get no credit or thanks, not even from Lassie… he’s just abundantly glad that this man he cares about so much will be happy and believe in himself again. He’s just, “Look at my boyfriend, he has his confidence back.” He cares about him so much he just wants to see him be happy. Seeing Lassie happy makes him happy. I’m crying. These freaking nerds. Ruining my life. WHY ARE THEY SO PERFECT THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH. 

anonymous asked:

im sorry sobs but ur headcannons for tododeku is so cute.... Could you make more about todoroki pining after izuku ?? Pleaseee omg

OMGGG NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR TODODEKU ANON !! I’m glad you enjoy !! I’m sorry this took so long to reply to, I had 6 hrs of class among other things to get done today @ @  

oh god, poor Shouto, he’d be pining for so long, sweet child..

 It starts around first year, when he realizes this little fluttering in his chest only happens around Midoriya. He doesn’t have a real word for it; it’s just a quiet excitement, just a little more eagerness to get to school and maybe see him. Maybe.

  •  By the end of first year, and listening to the girls in class chat a couple desks over, that he starts to realize that this is a crush.
  •  By second year, he’s confirmed that this is irrevocably his first love. He probably knew for a while, but he had to confirm. He had to think it through. No more irrational decisions for him.
  •  Midoriya’s one of his closest friends. Actually, between him and Iida, probably his closest. This is also a foreign concept, since having ‘friends’ is also a new thing. Something that’s made his life brighter, right? So he can’t lose it. He keeps these, frankly, irrational feelings quiet, locks them down, puts a lid on the box.
  •  Midoriya’s laugh, his smile, his mumbling stammers, all of it threaten to blow the lid right off. Shouto knows better, he can’t blow this, he can’t lose him. He knows Midoriya’s too nice, and would let him down as gently as possible, but certainly not return his feelings.
  •  It gets harder and harder through second year and into third. Midoriya’s comfortable with him, that much is obvious. He jokingly sticks close to his left side on cold days, laughing lightly when Shouto asks if he wants to hold his heated hand, “But it might be dangerous.” He smiles at that, especially when Midoriya almost agrees.
  •  He’s not very imaginative, but sometimes he tries to picture if Midoriya actually liked him back. That’s partially why he starts calling him Izuku in his head. (ever since @saigennaku said it I CAN’T LET IT GO MMMM)
  •  You want pining? Damn are you gonna get pining. In third hear he gets so, so close to confessing. Midoriya confides him about All Might, about everything, because “You’re one of the people I trust most, Todoroki-kun!” And his heart just swells because he’s so glad Midoriya trusts him and believes in and Izuku, I’m–!
  •  He can’t. And it hurts.
  •  Graduation isn’t as dramatic as one would think. Ochako hugs all of them and Iida’s sniffing back tears through the entire situation. It’s a happy one. Shouto considered confessing then, because if need be, he’d never have to see Midoriya again… but he can’t.
  •  I’ve already written about them sharing a place after high school, and truly, it doesn’t help Shouto’s situation. ‘He’s a healthy young man’ and all that. But keep it secret, keep it safe, right?
  •  The fluttering in his chest is now painfully heavy, and has grown heavier with every following year.
  •  He thinks about every brush of their hands, every shoulder bump. Every time Midoriya bites his lip when he’s thinking, when his hair drips when he comes out of the shower, the little sighs he lets out whenever he finally gets to rest after a particularly intense battle. He thinks about all of it a lot more than he’d ever admit aloud.
  •  Surprisingly, amazingly, endearingly, Midoriya confesses first. Shouto can’t even respond verbally, just sucks in a breath, and in the midst of Midoriya’s ramblings and “If it makes you uncomfortable I’m really, really sorry-“ Shouto sweeps him up in his arms and all of that heaviness in his chest lifts terrifyingly fast. He doesn’t have any experience with this sort of thing, all he knows is that he’s never felt so full of happiness.

I GOTTA GET THIS KID A HAPPY ENDING HONESTLY… There’s so much more I could talk about, like him meeting Deku’s mom or the idol au and all that, but this already got really long and #sad so i’ll leave it at that for today.


you wanted kissing in the rain

Hey there! No posts in a while but i’m back and better than ever! Continuation of this piece from a while back since you all like it so much! Enjoy xx

She’s healing well-she’s healing great, or at least that’s what Madam Pomfrey tells her, it doesn’t feel like it though.

She repeats this to James with a radiant smile, she’s gonna come to his practices, she promises, she might even paint her face for the game. He whoops in delight, eliminating the distance between them in two quick strides.

“That’s great,” he cheers overenthusiastically. She tilts her head upwards to give him a look-yes, he’s that close-and huffs out a laugh.

“It’s bloody cold though, might not.” She jokes, inching her way maybe a little closer to him, he doesn’t seem to mind that much.

There’s a tantalizing pause and then he’s reaching out hesitantly to pull her into a hug. His arms are right round her and she’s breathing in his scent when she realizes in one sharp breath that she feels safe. Even with the war that’s managed to suck out most of the happiness in the castle she feels content breathing him in.

“Can I?’ His voice is a warm breath against her scalp and she’s not sure what he’s asking but she feels herself begin to say yes before she’s even registered the question.


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Movie Night

A soft breeze ruffled tree leaves and grass in the darkness of the hot summer night. The sky was painted black with only the moon, stars and streetlights disrupting the sleep-inducing colour, lighting the empty pathways between houses. The streets were empty of people and all the windows of the houses in the neighbourhood were dark. It was silent.

The rare, but welcome breath of fresh air reached Levi through his window, cooling his overheated skin. He shifted in his bed with a sigh, furrowing his brow as he tried to pinpoint what had woken him up from his – for once – peaceful sleep. It was a quiet night for a change, clear from his uncle’s drunken rumbles or the scream of the TV, and Levi was very grateful for that. Yet even so, he was awake.

Levi grunted in frustration and flipped onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow with determination. He would get some sleep damnit. Just then, his phone vibrated on his nightstand, making him frown.

“Who the hell?” he muttered in confusion, voice rough with sleep. He patted the nightstand, in search for the offending object and lifted himself onto his elbows, squinting at the bright screen. He saw the ‘New message’ icon displaying a small six in the corner, making him sigh and open the window.

[1:14 AM] Eren: are you awake?

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Request -- Okay I recently found your blog and have been addicted! I was just wondering if you had the time if you could right a DeanxReader oneshot where like the reader sings really well and the boys never knew and so one night dean is having night terrors and the reader calms him down and back to sleep by singing to him? Bunches and bunches of fluff pleasseeeee❤️

(Hope you like it! xx)

You yawned as you pulled your sweater tightly around yourself, running a hand over your face before slumping against the table in exhaustion. Rest, which usually came as a welcomed solace to you, was seemingly not coming for a visit tonight; after two hours of trying to slip from reality until the sun started to come up, you had drifted into the bunker’s library to research in an attempt to make yourself absolutely exhausted. Your endeavors had been inevitable to succumb to failure, though, and you hadn’t even been the slightest bit successful; you were just getting more angry than tired over your persistence.

“Looks like it’s back to bed,” you grumbled half-heartedly, closing and putting the documents that you had been reading on top of the stack where they belonged before shutting off the lamp in front of you and erasing the soft yellow glow that it had been emitting onto the bookshelf-lined walls.

A shiver overcame you when your feet touched the cold floor once again, and your steps were steady as you made your way back to your room quickly, but cautiously enough so that you wouldn’t trip over any stairs, or even flat ground. You slowed down when the boys’ rooms were in sight, for there didn’t need to be any unnecessary panic from them if they heard hurried feet outside of their doors. When you passed Sam’s room, you had to hold back your laughter at how loudly he snored; you were surprised that the volume at which he did never managed to wake neither you nor Dean. You went by his room at a leisurely place as well, sighing when you saw the outline of your door a short distance away; you were definitely not looking forward to another few hours of restlessness, different sleeping positions, and throwing your scratchy covers off of you and then back on again, but you were hoping that maybe it would be enough to finally make unconsciousness fall over you.

After blindly searching in the darkness, your fingers ran over the cool brass handle and you opened your door just enough so that you could slip into your room without it creaking. Just as you were about to close it again, though, your head snapped up at a sudden gasp that you knew that you couldn’t have imagined; you certainly weren’t that close to being sleepy. You stepped back into the hallway in curiosity and bewilderment, not minding the frigidness against the bottoms of your feet anymore; the sound of an incoherent yell then abruptly reached your ears, and you broke into a sprint towards the brothers’ rooms, the pounding of your heart the evidence of your anxiousness. Another shout came right at you when you had just made it to Dean’s door; you pressed your ear to it, frowning in concern at what you heard. The older Winchester was mumbling under his breath, but his words were starting to get louder and clearer.

“…No…y-you can’t…don’t! No!”

That’s when you wasted no time in bursting into his room, not caring about if he got irritated with you about it in the morning, because all of your worry was laying in his condition as of now. You ran over to his bedside, gently putting your hands on his shoulders as not to startle him awake; he was trembling slightly, with his expression pulling up and down in agony and his body tensing repeatedly.

“Dean?” you whispered, shaking him lightly; all you got was a pained moan in response, and you also got the same reply the second time your tried. You then clutched him harder, and raised your voice. “Dean!”

He finally shot awake at that, and you managed to pull away before he hit you; his shaking was now blatant, and he was in the process of catching his breath from the nightmare that he had just been having. It was only after several moments that he noticed that you were next to him, and he cast his gaze away from you as if he was ashamed that you had seen him in such a terrible state.

“Y-Y/N,” he stuttered out as you carefully sat down next to him on his bed, looking at him in what little light that you had. What you saw in his expression was usually foreign and unseen inside of it; vulnerability was etched in every feature of his face, fear taking up every tiny detail of his beautiful green eyes; this study of him made your breath catch, for you had never seen him like this before. “…Th-Thanks.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” you questioned softly. It just seemed so horribly wrong, seeing the man that faced whatever life hurled at him day by day almost looking like a child beside you.

He shook his head, the corners of his mouth pulling down. “N-No.” It came as a shock when he moved closer to you, his gaze pleading. “I…I just want…”

You understood what he meant quickly, and wrapped you arms around him without any hesitation at all; he was quaking in your hold, and you told him hushed words of comfort as his small and broken gasps began to fill the air again. Every one tore at your heart, and it was falling into shreds as you wondered what exactly could have caused him to be so susceptible.

This is the springtime of my loving–the second season I am to know,” The notes tumbled out of your mouth effortlessly, and you cradled Dean closer to you as he began to be comforted and mesmerized by your voice. “You are the sunlight in my growing–so little warmth I’ve felt before…”

Dean’s breakdown ceased as you continued to sweetly serenade him to “The Rain Song” by Led Zeppelin, the painful images brought about by sleep dissipating in his mind with every affectionate lyric. The terror in his emerald eyes was replaced with warmth edged with ardor, and gracefulness wove intricate paths in order to chase away the dread still there inside of him; soon, all that was left was more of the same, but with endearment that was just-realized blatantly present as well.

“Wow,” he susurrated in his gravelly voice no longer shadowed with distress, and you broke off in the middle of the song with a tranquil smile on your face. “You are amazing, Y/N.”

You blushed, hiding your face even though you knew that he couldn’t see your pink cheeks as you bit your bottom lip.

“Thanks. I’m just glad that I helped you.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I…I don’t know what got switched inside of me. Stuff like this usually isn’t too bad.”

“We all get to a point where we just have to fall to pieces so that someone put us back together,” you confided in him. “And I’ll be that person for you whenever you need me to be.”

He nodded, a grin appearing on his face.

“And I’ll be the same for you.”

“Deal,” Your laughter was then interrupted by a long yawn, and you realized that you were finally worn out; you were teetering on the edge on asking if you could just stay, because there was a sense of longing inside of you when you realized that you would have to leave him if you went back to your room. “…Well, good night, Dean. I’ll see you in the morning–”

“Wait,” He softly took your hand in his, keeping you from standing up. “You can sleep in here. If you want, I mean. Since you’re really tired, and you might not want to walk back to your room…and plus, I want you here with me.”

He was genuinely smiling at the last part of his sentence, and your grin matched his as you nodded, stretching out next to him and giggling when he switched your roles by gathering you up inside of a protective hold that was perfectly comfortable; there was a question nagging at you, though, and you had to ask it before either of you fell asleep.

“So,” you started with uncertainty, grabbing his attention. “We’re just going to pretend that this never happened in the morning, right?”

Dean was astonished at what you asked him, and instantly shook his head; it was alluding him why you would inquire about something like that, and he definitely wasn’t going to allow you to believe in your words.

No,” he replied fervently, and before you could even register what he was about to do, his lips landed gingerly on yours for a passionate kiss that contained no doubt on either one of your parts; after it ended, he shook his head once more before pulling you to him as closely as possible. “If anything, I don’t want to forget tonight.”

Joy flooded through you with his words, and you snuggled into his comfort.

“I don’t, either.”

Fic: The Instrument of Love

CrissColfer // PG-13 for mentions of sex // (Inspired by a Patrick/Richie scene from Looking» Chris spends his first night at Darren’s place and they figure out what they really are while Chris discovers that apparently the afterglow makes Darren want to jam. 

It isn’t the first time they’d done this. In fact it had become a very unhealthy, and definitely unprofessional obsession between those two but then again, how could something that feels so right be so incredibly wrong?
Whenever they do this, Chris does his best to shut off his ever running mind and the gnawing questions of “What if this doesn’t work out? What if someone would find out about this?” but then again, Darren never fails to make him stop with this nonsense. They’d talked about it a lot in the past – about the what if? without success.

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