this is what we get when they share the stage for five minutes

quotes from the music department

*Repeatedly sings part of the music in scat*

“Ben swore to Jesus that if he didn’t help me at the concert he’d do thirty push-ups in front of the entire band, and I’m just as excited for this as you guys are.”

“If it were easy, football players would be doing this”

“We were 4.75 points off of the next band, and I’ll make certain this number will haunt you until next season.”

“Tomorrow’s gonna be a rough week.”

“I’ll just get a golf cart to follow the band in the parade. Maybe one day I’ll play a halftime show in a golf cart, all by myself.”

“No, Danny, you’re not starting a group chat for jazz.”

“Someone made me a 22&½-inch stick to measure steps. Don’t make me use it.”

“Trumpets, raise your right hand, and move it over to the person next to you. You’ll be fingering the notes on their trumpet.” *leans over to woodwinds* “this is gonna be really funny”

“We don’t have Thursday night rehearsal this week, so live the lives you have outside of band. So basically, catch up on homework.”

“Here it is– wait no, that’s 32 pages, that’s not right.”

“Before we step off on Saturday, you need to focus and say the following prayer”

“All the freshmen are on break, none of them are here!” *section leader raises hand* “Adeline’s here” “She’s the only one ADELINE WHY DONT YOU TAKE BREAKS IN THE STANDS”

“I hope this is loud enough, because this is as loud as its gonna get” *glares at the saxophone that forgot the speaker* “He forgot the speaker, my own flesh and blood.”

“As usual, the bassist knows the articulation and rhythms to the saxophone parts better than the saxophones do.”

*beatboxes to metronome*

“I want you to go home, do homework, practice, do more homework, have a milkshake, and practice some more.”

“If you want to annoy the heck out of a musician, play a cadence but leave out the last chord and wait like 20 minutes”

“this passage is called ‘Glendy Burk.’ I went to high school with her, actually.”

“you aren’t feeling well? Drugs?”

“while I was in the middle of complimenting you, you made a mistake”

“that saxophone line was jazzy as hell”

“you just have to play angrier”

“what’s the point if they’re all accented?”

“you squeaked in tune”

“can you take that d?”

“you can play my final pitch”

“imagine brass knuckles, but on a tambourine”

“I had to blow on my tongue”

“Bethany, you’re my number one!”

“the entire band is pianissimo, so play really loud. mezzo piano.”

“go through the head”

“BAD tambourine!!!”

“112 is the American tempo”

“the audience started clapping during the caesura. I didn’t know whether to continue on or leave the stage.”

“Matthew, while you were gone, Ed and I determined that you’re a freeloader”

“you came in early” “I don’t remember”

“did you just compare terrible bass parts to a terrorist attack?”

“Christ, Elizabeth, you’re such a violinist”

“All of our violas are at another rehearsal today, so we’ll begin today’s rehearsal with a prayer as that is the only thing that can save us.”

“We don’t have a spare bass bow to use while Ed’s is being rehaired, so you two are just gonna have to share. Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Ah, yes, but what baroque style are we talkin’ here”

“It was at that point she handed the first chair violin a viola part. He proceeded to hand it back to her.”

“I went home and cradled that music. I never get original bass parts.”

“She turned the page in her score and forgot to continue conducting. Honestly, I would’ve been less surprised had she thrown her baton into the cello section”

“There are two basses in pit this year, so we’re an actual section, so he can’t just shove us in the corner this year HIGH FIVE”

“Does she really know how to buy a bow? She should make it a field trip so you get the right one.” *swings hands in air super wide* “it has to AGREE and BLEND with the instrument DO YOU SEE”

“When the orchestra director doesn’t know what to do she just asks the second chair. If he’s gone, she waits until a day he attends rehearsal to ask him.”

“Don’t be afraid to play out. Except during rests. Then you should be very afraid.”

“is it ok if I start to cry a little right now?”

“I had anaemia as a kid, and my schoolteacher’s name sounded like ‘anaemia’, so naturally, I hated her”

“she took the pen out of my hand and said, ‘no, Richard, use pencil.’ I was so mad”

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that there are fewer bassists today and higher rates of suicide, gang violence, school shootings…”

“channel your inner Whitney Houston”

“play quietly, like you’re about to wake a baby. except you’re the baby, because you didn’t practice”

“I have another metronome app now. I collect them.”

“if someone calls my bass a cello one more time I’m gonna lose it”

“at the gig, a drunk guy came up to me, pointed to my harp, and called it a sideways piano”

“I want the space between these notes to be so big you can fit a little drawing of a house, a sun, a tree, and little dog in there.”

“90º angle notes”

“I want the sixteenth notes so sharp they could kill a man”

“turn the soundbox on”

“do you have a fancy phone? the answer is yes, yes you do.”

“I listened to the narration a few times before realising it was in German”

“I’ve got, like, four copies of that piece. the conductor keeps forgetting that I already have it and makes me a new copy.”

“soon I’ll have AIDS. Hearing aids, I mean. I’m old, is what I’m saying”

“more birdlike, turn on roundabout faster”

“kissing from the left is different from kissing from the right. not that I would know. asking for a friend.”

Say It (Jungkook/Reader)

Originally posted by sugutie

Genre: Smut - Inspired by a fic written by Admin JP + Say It by Tory Lanez.

Words: 7.2K+

Author: Admin Kaycie

Summary: Honesty was a trait you had always prided yourself in being strong in possession of, something your friends and fans all admired you for; so the day you announced you did not like Jeon Jungkook, they knew your words were true.

Tags: Dance room rendezvous, slow and sensual sex against the dance studio mirror wall, etc. 

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here are a bunch of AMAZING fics I’ve enjoyed and loved reading throughout the month of august. I recommend that you read these great fics in september, if you haven’t already!! also check out the HL Summer Fic Exchange!

(all fics with a star are my favorites and if there are two stars then it was a favorite favorite)

1. How Far We’ve Come 32k

“This is Harry Styles,” Chiron offers.

He’s beautiful. His eyes are a stunning green, the color of new foliage. The new kid’s limbs are long and lanky—he looks extremely uncomfortable and uncoordinated. Louis internally smirks to himself, guessing the kid probably won’t be too skilled with a sword, or a bow, or anything sharp, most likely. His hair falls to his shoulders in sets of loose, brown curls. The color is rich and luscious, resembling soil so much that it looks like flowers could sprout from his hairline at any moment. But Louis’ eyes are stuck on his soft looking lips, pink as flower petals and slightly parted as his eyes scan the horizon of the camp.

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Harry.”

2. It’ll All Come Up Roses 4k *

Louis was leaning against the railing of the bridge, looking down at the water completely lost in thought when he heard someone approach the bridge from the side that he came from. Glancing up, he noticed Harry walking towards him, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, and seemingly lost in thought. Louis shifted his weight onto his other foot and stood up properly, watching quietly as Harry walked past him. Louis opened his mouth. He wanted to say something to Harry to break the silence, or at least to get him to notice him standing there against the bridge railing - but the words got stuck in Louis’ throat, and he snapped his mouth shut, going back to staring down at the water mindlessly instead. All the while, trying hopelessly to figure out what the fuck he’s doing with his life. Harry kept walking, and soon Louis was once again left alone to his thoughts.

Or the one where Louis really doesn’t hate his neighbor who keeps waking him up at the crack of dawn. Ft magic, Liam, Niall, and Zayn barely being mentioned, Harry and his fucking motorcycle, a date and a kiss.

3. Freeze This Moment in a Frame and Stay Like This 5k

Harry (not so) secretly crushes on the cute footie player and fills pages with sketches of him.

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High☆Speed Free! Starting Days Event Report

The High☆Speed Free! Starting Days event was held at the Ryogoku Kokukigan Sumo Wrestling arena, the exact same location where the Free! Eternal Summer event two years ago was held. The biggest announcements of the event were the three planned Free! continuation movies:

1) Free! Timeless Medley ~絆 Bonds~
This will be a compilation of scenes from Free! Eternal Summer as well as new scenes relating to Makoto, Haruka, Rei, and Nagisa

2) Free! Timeless Medley ~約束 Promises~
This will be a compilation of scenes from Free! Eternal Summer as well as new scenes relating to Sousuke and Rin’s promise to him

3) Free! Take Your Marks
This will be a completely new full-length feature film following Haruka after he graduates from High School

For those interested in what happened during the Afternoon event, here’s a detailed report, so enjoy~

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Billboard: Niall Horan Braces for Stardom Outside One Direction, With Advice From Justin Bieber & The Eagles

When Niall Horan decided to move from London to Los Angeles in early 2016, it’s no surprise that he chose a house in Laurel Canyon, the epicenter of ’60s folk-rock culture. Horan was the one ­toting a guitar in One Direction, the British boy-band juggernaut that was just then going on a hiatus, and he’s got the soul of a singer-songwriter: He’s charismatic, witty and sensitive, but also easygoing and no-nonsense. Viewed alongside his bandmates – born rock star Harry Styles, “sensible one” Liam Payne, “funny one” Louis Tomlinson, moody R&B prince Zayn Malik – Horan, 23, is sort of like the middle brother: the most ­approachably handsome, the second-most popular across social media (29 million Twitter followers; 19 million on Instagram) and the most likely to lust after a gig at the historic Los Angeles rock club The Troubadour. “Playing for, like, 500 people. What more do you want?” says Horan. “I’ve had some good moments with screaming ­teenagers, but I like when the room is completely dead. It’s a ­different kind of respect. People are actually listening.”

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One Direction split was painful... but it was Harry wanted, says Louis Tomlinson
WHEN ONE DIRECTION began an extended hiatus at the end of 2015, much was made of the friendships and alliances within the world’s biggest band. LOUIS TOMLINSON was the natural leader of 1D and keen…

WHEN ONE DIRECTION began an extended hiatus at the end of 2015, much was made of the friendships and alliances within the world’s biggest band.

LOUIS TOMLINSON was the natural leader of 1D and keen for the group to continue their chart-conquering progress.

But his former BFF HARRY STYLES was ready to go on an indefinite break, leading to understandable tensions within the group. In part two of his revealing world-exclusive interview, Louis is brutally honest about that difficult period, shining a light for the first time on how the decision to split was made.

He says: “It was an uncomfortable time more than anything. We’ve always had a level of respect for each other in these meetings and we always said that 100 per cent honesty and openness is so important if you’re going to get on as a band. 

It made those situations a little bit difficult because I felt like I really was building up confidence in myself and in my place within the band and as a songwriter in the band.I could feel that potentially it was going to be a break. What was difficult was trying to understand how long that might be. So that process was kind of a little uncomfortable. 

You’re asking guys who have grown up being best friends to make selfish decisions, which they should do, based on themselves.“But it doesn’t change the fact that it was difficult for me to accept at first.”

However, 18 months on, with the launch of a promising solo career, Louis’ opinion has changed.

He says: “If you asked me now if I think it’s the wrong decision, I don’t think it was. I think the market and the fans and everyone had had so much of One Direction that regardless of any individual ventures, the market could do with a two-, three- or however long break away from us.”

Louis — who yesterday released his new single Back To You with rising star BEBE REXHA,— is honest that he is not as close to Harry as NIALL HORAN or LIAM PAYNE.

He says: “There’s no politics or anything. Inevitably in a band, you’re going to get some people who get on really well and some people who get on quite well. I have forever had a very, very high level of respect for Harry. He’s great in this situation, he’s great on stage, he’s a great musician and artist. It’s just one of those things that happens naturally in a band.”

Louis and Harry’s friendship was also dogged by a ridiculous five-year conspiracy by a group of determined fans known as Larries. 

They believe that the pair are in a romantic relationship that was covered up by 1D management, SIMON COWELL and even me (I promise you I’d have been delighted to report that Harry and Louis were an item if that were the case).

Sadly, Louis admits the pressure from Larry conspiracy theorists was a factor in their friendship struggling, especially given the serious relationship he has with girlfriend Eleanor Calder. 

He says: “I’ve never actually been asked about it directly. It’s a funny thing. It kind of happened naturally for me and Harry because a certain amount of the fans drew up this conspiracy. 

When it first came around I was with Eleanor, and it actually felt a little bit disrespectful to Eleanor, who is my girlfriend now. I’m so protective over things like that, about the people I love. 

So it created this atmosphere between the two of us where everyone was looking into everything we did. It took away the vibe you get off anyone. It made everything, I think on both fences, a little bit more unapproachable. I think it shows that it was never anything real, if I can use that word.”

In recent months I’ve asked Liam, Niall and Harry whether 1D could re-form without Harry or with former bandmate ZAYN MALIK.

Louis is clearly surprised by the question and takes a long time to think before replying: “When Zayn left, it still felt like One Direction, but we still didn’t feel like the whole. So then to even take maybe Harry out as well — it’s something that I can’t ever imagine, really. I feel like it’s got to be for the fans, and not for the three that want to get back together.”.

Louis is clearly keen for the band to get back together, but he understands that Harry — currently promoting his big-screen debut in the film Dunkirk — has not yet made a decision.

He says: “Harry is actually an inspiring person to watch as a businessman, as a musician. He doesn’t really lose, Harry. He’s a very, very hard worker and his potential is massive in so many different fields.

So I don’t know the answer, but if I’m Harry . . . I don’t know yet. Honestly, I just think it’s too difficult to say, especially with someone like Harry, who’s got so much potential. It’s just kind of a confusing place for him to be as an individual, to be like, ‘OK, what is next?’ ”

1D fans are asking exactly the same thing . . .

THE end of 1D was hard on all the boys – and now Louis has revealed how upsetting it was after their final concert in Sheffield.

He said: “I’ve got this video from the last show. There’s a minute of me and Niall hugging, just kind of sobbing like, ‘This is f***ing crazy.’

”Louis was always close to Niall, but being apart hasn’t dampened their friendship. 

He added: “Niall’s the best. We just get so excited about each other’s s**t.” Cute.


Holding on to Si

HE was discovered on The X Factor, and it was on that stage that One Direction gave their final performance in December 2015. 

But Louis has admitted he felt frustrated last summer when he wasn’t given a judging role following lengthy discussions about replacing NICK GRIMSHAW.

He said: “It was something that I would have liked to have done. But it’s business. That’s how it works. It was kind of surprising to see me essentially being replaced by LOUIS WALSH.”

But the Just Hold On singer held no grudge against show boss SIMON COWELL. He is the only 1D member to sign with Cowell’s Syco label after the pop guru masterminded the group’s success.

Louis said: “Simon has always been willing to listen. It was a no-brainer to me.”

It has certainly worked well so far.


FROM London to LA, Louis has lived around the globe since 1D began. But he still cherishes his home town Doncaster, where he shot the video for his new single.

He said: “I love it. I feel like I owe people from Doncaster. But I just get this feeling . . . I want to push Doncaster on everyone.”

Louis, whose baby son Freddie Reign lives in LA with his ex Briana Jungwirth, added: “LA’s very different to Doncaster. The people are chalk and cheese. I obviously cherish my time with my son and it’s fantastic for work and the weather is great, but I do cherish my time back home.”


LIAM PAYNE and CHERYL are one of the most loved-up ­couples in pop, but even Louis didn’t quite believe they were together at first.

Asked if he thought his bandmate was joking when he confided in him about his relationship, Louis said: “I’m not going to lie, I wasn’t 100 per cent. I’m not saying I didn’t buy it – of course I did. It was just a little bit surprising for me at first.”

He knew about the couple’s secret romance in February last year at the Brit Awards but kept his lips sealed.

Louis continued: “I remember being outside and sharing a cigarette with them and him being excited and trying to play it cool. But I’m really happy for him. I think it’s important that Liam has someone around him who’s going to really look after him. I don’t know Cheryl too well. I’ve always thought she’s lovely, so hopefully she looks after our Liam.”


thedefenderrs  asked:

“Listen, we have very thin walls and I heard you crying in the shower, are you okay?” au Pleaseeeeee!!

I know it’s like 5:30 am but I hope you like it! (also on ao3!)

Derek wasn’t usually a nosy neighbor. Quite the opposite, in fact.

He was an introvert at heart. He had been ever since he was a little kid.

It was just another facet of his personality, one that his sisters and absolutely adored poking fun at. It was a great source of entertainment amongst a pack of werewolves that valued camaraderie and community above all else.

That wasn’t to say Derek didn’t cherish those values just as much as the rest of his pack. In fact, he appreciated them more than anyone else solely because he was so selective about the company he kept.

In high school, he had only had two friends, Boyd and Erica, who managed to accommodate his reticence and dry humor enough to want to actively hang out with him. Beyond them, he didn’t have many friends, or acquaintances period.

Sure, he had been popular enough thanks to the positions he held on the basketball and baseball teams — being captain wasn’t something to turn one’s nose up at — but that popularity was limited outside of games.

He had never been invited to the parties celebrating the wins that he was mostly responsible. He had always been both grateful for and annoyed by that fact: on one hand he hated parties with a passion but on the other hand, it was nice to be invited.

While he almost single-handedly carried both teams he played on, he had always been, and always would be, a nerd at heart. He would take a quiet afternoon spent reading and sipping tea over a raucous night partying any day.

That being said, it was no wonder why he became an English teacher.

After graduating from Stanford, he managed to secure a highly sought after position at the high school in his hometown. Apparently, the previous holder of the position was a darach, reminding him of just how crazy the little town of Beacon Hills was.

After a few months of living with his parents while he settled into his new job, Derek found himself an apartment in town. It was closer to the school than the Hale House which meant a shorter commute which in turn meant he could sleep in for just a little longer.

In his seven years living in his apartment he had seen several neighbors come and go, nearly half a dozen or so. And all of them had their little quirks.

First, there had been Mrs. Peterson with her seven cats and fifteen grandchildren. She had been bright and sunny, always bringing Derek cookies and pies and other baked goods.

She used to play oldies at all hours of the night. She claimed it was the only way she could stay asleep for more than a few hours at a time.

She eventually moved out of the building in order to live with one of her grandchildren in Florida. Her seven cats went with her.

Mr. Twain was his next neighbor, a balding middle aged man who was going through a messy divorce. He smoked enough pot to mellow out an alpha on the full moon, the smell seeping into Derek’s apartment.

After meeting a nice woman with two kids, Mr. Twain got married and moved out of his apartment. Unfortunately, the stench of cheap pot lingered long after he had left.

His next neighbor was Riley Morris, a single mother of three who worked two jobs. Her dog, a little ankle biting Yorkie, rarely shut up.

Derek wasn’t proud of it, but he had resorted to flashing his eyes at the little yapper just to get it to shut the hell up so he could grade papers.

She moved out after getting a promotion that allowed her to quit her second job and move into a small house. Derek never once missed the incessant barking of her damned Yorkie.

Next came Taylor Rhodes, a recent college graduate reveling in all of the luxuries of life. From a downright ridiculous amount of sex to illegal drugs, she embraced all aspects of hedonism.

Of course, that was eventually her downfall. She was arrested only five months after moving in.

The other neighbors weren’t exactly worth mentioning, a bickering couple bogged down by asinine gender roles followed by an old teammate of Derek’s that was addicted to Netflix and rarely showered.

Then there was his new neighbor. Stiles.

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klance wedding headcanons

alright so a bunch of you asked for some klance wedding headcanons in response to the shallura wedding post and ho boy i am here to deliver 

(shoutout to @leg-defender again for idea bouncing with me!)

  • first off, the wedding is Big. because Lance’s family is HUGE and they gotta be involved in e v e r y t h i n g. they’re basically orchestrating the whole shebang along with the rest of the voltron crew. 
    • Lance’s family does a shitton of research on Korean weddings because they want to include traditions from Keith’s culture as well as Lance’s. 
      • An entire twenty-four hour day is spent with the whole team on computers, at libraries, calling old Korean friends and sending Shiro out to be the honorary diplomat. by the end of the day they could probably run their own program on the history channel.
  • Hunk, Lance’s mother, grandmother, and anyone else with even a fingernail of cooking talent are all on the Food Squad together because let’s be honest there is a lot of food to be made. 
    • nobody knows what kind of food Keith likes and they can’t ask Lance because it’s supposed to be a surprise so they have to send Pidge out for reconnaissance
      • Pidge has no idea how to navigate the situation and ends up trying to ask Keith what his favorite restaurant is in hopes of getting somewhere
      • his favorite restaurant is the Pizza Hut down the street
      • Pidge gives up and just tells everyone he likes traditional Korean food (which he does)
  • The “Bachelor Party” is just the whole original voltron crew having a fun night out of the town
    • they go to an arcade
    • Keith beats Lance in just about every game they play
    • minus the first person shooters and dance dance revolution
    • nobody beats Lance at dance dance revolution
    • nobody.
  • Hunk is pretty much Lance’s Maid of Honor, Shiro is Keith’s
    • Almost every single one of Lance’s siblings is a Bridesmaid/Groomsman
    • Keith doesn’t really have a lot of people to be his Groomsmen so Lance’s siblings take the position for his side too
    • They literally fight over who gets to be a Groomsman for Keith they all want to do it so bad
      • it makes Keith cry bc he never thought he’d be part of a big family like this and it just makes him Really Fucking Happy
  • Keith is kind of a fashion disaster and doesn’t know how to pick out what to wear so Lance’s five sisters immediately adopt him.
    • they spend the whole day shopping together
    • Lance has never seen someone get along with all of his sisters so well in his entire life
      • it’s actually a little freaky how well
      • Lance is Afraid
  • For the wedding Keith has his nails painted blue and Lance has his painted red
    • Lance’s little cousins do it for them so it’s kind of sloppy but it’s insanely fucking cute
  • Allura and Lance’s mom are the Decorating Dream Team
    • the whole venue looks like it just came off of a goddamn pintest board 
    • in the best way possible
    • Allura has added some more questionable decorations but what can you do
    • “Are those… goldfish bowls?” “Yes.” “Ok.”
  • Coran along with Lance’s like 98 year old great-grandmother are the ones who marry them
    • yes both of them
    • they both demanded to have the position so they had to share it
    • at first they didn’t get along so well but now they are best buddies for some odd reason
    • no one knows why they get along but they do so nobody’s complaining 
  • Lance starts bawling like three words into his vows
    • he can’t help it Ok it’s a Very Emotional Moment
    • the whole thing is rly sweet though because Keith just smiles Super Fucking Wide and wipes away his tears. Everyone’s heart in a 300 mile radius melts. If you weren’t crying before you sure as hell are now.
  • They kiss for Way Too Long during the ceremony. Pidge has to not-so-subtly kick Lance in the ankle and remind them not to suffocate eachother.
    • Lance is so getting Pidge later for that.
    • he never actually gets Pidge later for that.
  • The reception is really just One Huge Fun Dance Party 
    • basically everyone is drunk but in the best way possible
    • there is karaoke 
      • Lance forces Keith to come on stage with him and sing
      • except Lance chooses a song in Spanish and Keith has n o i d e a what he’s doing
      • the only part of the song Keith gets is this really slow line when he looks Lance right in the eyes and says “Besame, te amo”
      • it’s a one-hit-KO 
      • Lance is #gone
      • he forgets how to speak spanish altogether and just starts sputtering random words that translate to things like “my entire bathtub is green” and the spanish rendition of the happy birthday song
  • They all unanimously decide to eat the cake before dinner.
    • They wish they had an excuse for breaking out the cake before dinner but they don’t. The just really want to see the cake Hunk has been bragging about making for weeks.
    • the cake is so beautiful Lance starts crying again
    • honestly nobody can really blame him is is one hell of a cake
  • Shiro’s toast speech is like 10 minutes of roasting Keith and Lance for all the dumb shit they’ve done over the years
    • “I remember when you two had a contest to see who could eat more cheese logs–”
    • “Or the time when you both hung upside down so long you passed out and we had to take you to the ER—”
    • “And there was The Poison Ivy Incident last March–”
    • “Oh don’t even get me started on the Slip ‘N Slide race—”
      • “Shiro… Please…. Let Us Live………”
  • alas 20 minutes into the actual dinner a Huge food fight breaks out
    • It. Is. Chaos.
    • Everybody participates. Nobody is spared. 
    • Food is e v e r y w h e r e but honestly who cares they’re having a blast.
    • There is a running debate to this day over how it started
      • “Keith started it! With the potatoes!”
      • “I did not, it was all Lance and his stupid carrots!”
      • “Allura is the one who launched the peas,”
      • “Excuse me?! Shiro dumped the fruit punch”
      • “Only after Hunk threw the rice cakes!”
      • “Oh no don’t you drag me in to this–”
  • In conclusion, it’s absolute Chaos but it’s the most fun, exciting, Lance-and-Keith-like wedding anybody’s been to in like a million years and nobody leaves without a smile on their face and one hell of a story to tell.

anonymous asked:

I love the Victuuri fluff prompts you post!! The baking vlogger Victor one in particular made my heart all warm and fuzzy (*˘︶˘*).。.:*♡

aaaaaaaa omg thank you! <3

here’s a little something, then: 

The idea came up when they were done with the season and brainstorming different ways of enjoying each other’s company in their first off-season together in St. Petersburg. It didn’t matter who’d thought of it first, what mattered was that, at some point, they’d both agreed it would be a sweet idea and that they’d have a lot of fun doing it.

After a couple of days of research, they record a cooking video. Yuuri offers to record (still somewhat camera shy, Victor knows, but he dismisses that saying he’s had enough experience helping Phichit record videos) and Victor, with Makkachin’s well-behaved support, are the stars of the show. 

Their video goes viral in a matter of minutes. It’s impressive. 

It starts off very simple: a shot with a happy Makkachin lolling her tongue and a cute little mug cake on the counter with a simple handwritten title overlaid on it. Then, it transitions to a very cozy and domestic Victor Nikiforov, who waves at the camera with a bright smile. Makkachin, at his side, wags her tail.

“Hi! I’m Victor Nikiforov and today I’ll share my personal, homemade mug cake recipe! It’s very simple and quick to make, an ideal snack for a rainy afternoon like today when you want to relax at home and watch some movies,” he winks playfully at the camera. “After I’m done baking, my recipe is going to be judged by the best mug cake connoisseur who is going to give it a score based on taste, appearance and…" 

He waggles his eyebrows comically as the camera zooms in his face - perhaps a bit too close when only Victor’s eyes are in the shot. He hesitates, his dramatic expression breaking when Yuuri bursts out laughing off camera, and it abruptly cuts. 

Victor is smiling on the next shot as if he’s been laughing for the past five minutes, and his clear effort to keep it together is adorable.

“Alright, as I was saying, my mug cake is going to be judged on taste, appearance and overall presentation - ‘is it a mug cake?’ is the question we’re trying to answer here today. With me, I have Makkachin - say hi, Makka!” Makkachin wags her tail vigorously. “She’s going to give me moral support - something of dire importance when you’re baking mug cake. Let’s get the ingredients!”

On a quick little montage, all items are displayed on the pristine kitchen counter. Those with keen eyes can tell that Yuuri is the mastermind behind that staged shot, all ingredients neatly placed and ready to be mixed. Again, overlaid handwritten instructions with cute little arrows point out how many portions are going to be needed.

“I came up with this recipe when I was living with Yakov and Lilia,” he says, and it’s clear he’s not speaking to the audience because he keeps looking at his fiancé off-camera as he beats an egg in the mug. “They were very strict about my diet when I was off-season, and I’d crave sweet things so I ended up making a small-sized cake using the least utensils possible.”

“And what are you doing now?” Yuuri’s sweet voice says off-camera, zooming in on Victor, who looks at him in confusion.

“The mug cake,” he states the obvious, pouring milk into the mug. Yuuri chuckles.

“You have to tell us! You have to talk to the camera, Vitya!”

“Oh!” He laughs. “Right, yes, so… Uh… After you’re done beating the egg you’re going to add oil and milk and mix it well - you know, that wet ingredients and dry ingredients rule. Is it a rule?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri hums.

“Well, OK. I’m using the same spoon to pour and mix the ingredients because… It’s always the same spoon. And I don’t want to wash a lot of dishes.”

“Sustainable cooking.”

“Exactly,” Victor chuckles as he adds chocolate powder and mixes carefully, all under Makkachin’s curious gaze. “So now we start adding the dry ingredients, but you have to be careful-” the camera switches to his face and zooms comically again, and the shot is all Victor’s eyes, sometimes only his mouth “-because you don’t want the flour to, uh, make bubbles. Bubbles?”

“Yeah, it gets…” Yuuri is very clearly trying not to laugh. “You have to mix it well, got it.”

“Exactly, you don’t want to find flour bombs in your mug cake,” the shot is in Victor’s hands as he adds sugar. “So we’re going to mix these first and leave flour and yeast last. Yuuri?”

“I’m recording.”

“All of me?”

All you can see is Victor’s hand on the screen, with his golden ring shining poetically.


The next shot is serious again, with Victor adding spoonfuls of flour with a tense expression.

“Oh, no.”

“What’s wrong, babe?”

Victor hesitates, with a spoon in one hand and sack of flour in the other, staring at the mug.

“I think I put too much flour.”

“Oh, no!”

“What do I do?” He bursts out laughing. “Oh, no!! I screwed up! It was supposed to be three spoons and I put four full ones? Help me, Yuuri!!” Victor whines, looking at the camera with supplicant eyes as he slowly swirls the ingredients in the mug.

“I can’t, I’m the cameraman,” he says with a chuckle.

“Makkachin!! Help me!!”

“You’re getting flour all over your shirt,” Yuuri laughs, and Victor pauses to look at the mess he’s made.

“Aw, no…”

A quick montage comes up with a close-up shot of Victor mixing the flour in the mug then adding some yeast. The tragedy, it seems, was limited to Victor’s drama, because the mixed ingredients look pretty good.

When it transitions to Victor again, the camera is positioned closer, and it’s clear Victor cannot look away from his gorgeous cameraman.

“Now that Makkachin has saved the day - thanks, Makka! - we are going to put it in the microwave for three minutes. And be careful, it’s going to be super hot when it’s done, so wait a few minutes until it’s cooled down before eating.”

Another quick montage of the mug spinning in the microwave, Victor cleaning up the counter and Makkachin being a good girl plays to the sound of a light, cheery music. Then, the microwave beeps and Victor picks the mug carefully and sets it on the counter.

Back to its original placement, the camera now frames Victor, Yuuri and Makkachin, all looking excited about the mug cake. 

Looking at the camera, Victor announces:

“So now I have here, with me, an authority in mug cakes,” Yuuri hides his smile behind his hand as he gazes at Victor. “A man who has traveled around the world looking for the perfect mug cake recipe and who is going to judge my homemade mug cake with the highest of standards. Isn’t that right, Yuuri?”

Yuuri, blushing, nods and tries to appear serious.

“Should I mouth-feed you the bite?” Victor asks in all seriousness. And Yuuri, apparently forgetting about the camera, smiles and nods at him.

“What am I judging you on?" 

"Oh,” Victor pauses with the fork in his hand. “You have to give me a score based on taste, appearance and is it a mug cake?


“So, please, have a look,” he gestures at the mug and Yuuri steps closer, inhaling a deep breath and humming in approval.

“It smells amazing. And it looks a bit…” Yuuri shakes his head, “I think I can see some flour you didn’t manage to mix.”

“Damn it.”

“But I’m intrigued. Let’s taste it!”

And, in what could possibly be the most romantic scene in all video, Victor takes a forkful of chocolate cake and feeds it to Yuuri, his other hand automatically reaching to caress his cheek. Yuuri gazes back into his eyes, fluttering his eyes shut as he tastes the bite and nods, eyes closed. Victor watches him expectantly, his hand seemingly forgotten on Yuuri’s cheek and grazing the pad of his thumb like it’s a natural instinct. 

“It’s very good.”

Victor sighs with relief, laughing with Yuuri at his own reaction.

“It tastes sweet, but not too sweet, you know?”

“Exactly! I had to fool Yakov somehow - sorry, Yakov.”

“I really like it, this is delicious,” Yuuri pokes him for another bite.

“OK, but the final question…”

“… Is it a mug cake?”

Victor nods, expectantly. And taking his time, Yuuri grabs another bite and chews on it, pondering, raising an eyebrow just to tease Victor. 

“It is a mug cake.”

Victor cheers, asking Makkachin for a high-five and giving Yuuri a gentle kiss on his cheek, wrapping him in a hug as Yuuri chuckles.

“Final score?” He asks, excited.

“I’d give this mug cake a gold medal.”

“Wow! Yuuri!” Victor beams, wrapping his arms tighter around Yuuri. “Alright, and what should we do next?”

Tapping his chin with his finger (a classic Nikiforov quirk), Yuuri takes a moment to think about it.


“Cookies!” Victor echoes, excited. “Do you know how to bake cookies?”

“I do!”

“Perfect! For my next video, we will have a very special guest,” he winks at the camera. “Thanks for watching!”

Flood my Mornings: Allegro con fuoco

@caitbalfes said: I still have a need for some drunk Frasers, so if anyone wants to write that for me, it doesn’t have to be long or anything, that’d be very appreciated. It’s not Christmas yet, nor is it my birthday, nor have I really done anything at all to deserve it … but … *swallows pride* *gets down on knees* … please?

  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
  • Previous installment: Fight 

Bostonian friends, plz forgive me for taking liberties. I do know that factually, Symphony Hall doesn’t have boxes, damn them *per se,* but…. well… 

ALL THE THANKS to @drunklander for the venue idea!!! (A Fenway Frolic will follow someday, I promise)


September, 1951 

GOD, it’s good to be drunk again.” 

I’d said that FAR too loudly, given that we were in a great bloody swell of finely-dressed folk queuing to enter the auditorium, but funnily enough, I was too drunk to be bothered about it. 

It was our first real night out alone since Ian was born, and we were enjoying it for all it was worth. We’d shared a sumptuous meal and a large bottle of wine and ordered a whisky or two apiece while waiting for the house doors to open for the Dvořák suite that was being performed. Standing now in line waiting to get our handbills, I was positively plastered and couldn’t have been happier about it, to be honest. 

“D’you like it?” I demanded of my tuxedoed husband, somehow feeling it necessary that he be on my same plane of looniness. “Th’drunk?” 

“Oh, aye,” he grinned. “Tis always great fun to see ye in drink, Sassenach.”

Wot??” I rounded on him, indignant. “You’re not drunk?” 

“I’m a Scot, remember? I’m never drunk.” 

This utter lie was reinforced at once as he ran into an umbrella stand. We both fizzed with giggles as he struggled not to fall, drawing the eyes of many a more decorous symphony-goer ahead of us in line. I made faces at them when they’d turned their backs (well, almost-turned, as it turned out) causing Jamie to hastily usher me—though shaking with laughter himself—into another queue and up toward our seats. 

“These can’t be ours??” I said, flabbergasted, for he’d brought me to a private mezzanine box angled toward the stage, decked out with comfortable armchairs. 

“Course they can! Only the best for my lady,” he said, kissing my cheek exuberantly. “That and Tom’s brother has tickets for the whole season and happened to offer these up.” 

“But it’s so—so—” I wobbled around the box in my high-heeled shoes, trailing my fingers across the luxurious curtains. “shwanky…no….swhank…. bloodyhell. POSH.” 

“Well, and so are you, a nighean,” he said, gesturing to my getup. “Like a million bucks.” This last was delivered with such a spot-on American accent, I burst out laughing, making him say it again and again.  

I did look fairly smashing, I admitted, especially for being only five-or-so weeks post-delivery. I hadn’t worn anything so elegant since our wedding, but when Jamie had announced grandly a few days before that we were going ‘to the symphony,’  I’d been shocked enough that I’d taken myself to the shops and risen to the occasion. It was a tea-length gown, black lace over a cream lining, belted at the waist and baring my shoulders daringly, accentuated still more by elbow-length black gloves. I humbly estimated a cool million-and-a-half for good measure. 

Jamie pulled me down into the seat beside his. “Come on, lass,” he said, slurring only a bit. “S’starting.” 

So it was. The lights were dimming and the people below scurrying to their seats. 

I plopped down and twined my fingers with Jamie’s, leaning my head on his shoulder and letting things be a delicious, swimmy blur for an indeterminate period of time as the opening movement progressed. 

“Remind me ‘gain why it is YOU wanted to come to see music?” I asked in his ear over the sleepy oboe interlude, having to concentrate hard on each syllable. 

“Mm?” He jerked, popping his eyes open. “Wha’s that?” 

“You are drunk, too!” I crowed in whispered delight, poking him in the chest. 

“Only a BIT,” he muttered with dignity, straightening. “And we’re here because a night out was just the thing, and I thought ye might like it. And if it sounds like little more than a verra large beehive to my own ear, so be it.” 

“I do like it,” I whispered back, beaming, the whisky making me very emotional about it, in fact. “New World Symphony is one of my favorites. I get chills whenever the brass start up with the—oh—um—oh, you know, the bit where they go duhhh-dut-dut-DUHH-dt-dahhh! DUHHH-duhhh-da-dt-DUHHH!! Y’know?” 

He snorted and fondly shushed me. “No, I dinna ken, but I’ll keep my ears tuned for the dut-duhs, all the same.

The piece was dreamy and epic, utterly sweet, then shifting to great terrifying roars and back again, just like I remembered. About twenty more minutes in, though, my alcohol haze lifted just enough for my mind to begin to wander pleasantly. 

Along with my hands.   

Jamie’s groan was loud enough that I had to fling the hand upward to cover his mouth. “ShhhhhhhhHHHHHHHh!” I hissed. “You’ll disturb—THE MUSIC.” 

“Suzznuck,” came the protest from my gloved hand before I consented to remove it. “What in God’s name do ye—oh—C H R I S T!”  

I hadn’t removed said hand without purpose, now, had I?

He was hard in my hand—very, though he was doing quite a masterful job of acting casual from the navel upward, training his eyes intently on the stage, but his breathing was another matter entirely. “Oh… God….” he gasped, legs trembling as I rubbed and teased and pulled through his trousers. “Sassenach,” he whispered urgently, “ye must st—Jesus—stop that…else—" He hissed as he felt me move away. “Where in the name of—?” 

I’d stood up, quite suddenly, and moved to the side of the box furthest from the stage, sheltered from any onlookers by the obliging angle of the curtains. I put my back against the wall …. and beckoned.

Lost your mind? he mouthed, looking absolutely dumbstruck. He motioned emphatically about. All these people?? 

No one can see, I mouthed back. Come here. 

A glare. Sit. down. 

I shook my head definitively, languidly pulling off my gloves, the whisky making me reckless. I slowly—oh so deliciously slowly—moved my hand downward, inching toward the hem of my gown. His eyes went wide, and I thought he was going to scold some more, but he only watched. 

We’d done our best not to submit to complete celibacy as I’d healed from the birth, enjoying ourselves as best we could in stolen moments with hands and mouths. Even those non-penetrative forms of enjoyment had come with painful twinges and jarrings for me, though, and so we’d erred on the side of caution. Setting aside those attempts, it had been nearly six weeks since we’d last made love properly—and we both were more than hungry for it. 

Though his posture was still proper, I could see the furtive movements of his hand as he watched mine pulling up the hem of my dress, inch by inch, and sliding between my thighs. A groan passed through his barely-parted lips as I found my mark and mouthed,  COME. HERE.

Blazing need in his eyes, smoldering and growing under the whisky’s power. A flicker of doubt and concern as he asked, *….Can* we? 

We bloody well could, finally, and not a day too soon. I didn’t say this aloud, only gave him a look and—with a raising of one knee— a view that answered the question in no uncertain terms. 

He stood suddenly, keeping his eyes on the stage as he buttoned his tux coat casually. He turned and headed for the box door as though in need of the loo. Just as he reached the handle, getting out of the sightlines of the audience, he turned on a dime. An instant later, he was pressing me against the wall, hard, his mouth on mine. 


Jamie was a man of great control, when called for. He delighted in tenderness and gentle service, and yet, in times like this, when he could unleash, not least of all after such a long deprivation—Jesus H. Roosevelt CHRIST. 

His hand pushed mine away, and my knee came up again in reflex around his hip as I moaned—quietly, quietly— for what I wanted, and then he had two fingers inside of me and—

Ye feel so good, mo nighean donn,” he growled with soft violence, his fingers stroking points inside and out at the same time making me gasp and moan see stars. I bucked against his touch, seeking more, demanding more, and he gave it. “Christ, to feel ye again—” His free hand moved hungrily over me, lips, shoulders, back, buttocks, arms, hair. The thrill of necessary silence—not to mention the sheer insanity of what we were doing in this revered landmark—had me moving like a wild thing, silently keening, panting like I’d been running for miles. But oh, God—YES—

I gasped as I felt the tremors start, and I sunk my lips into his neck to keep from crying out as the glorious sensations ripped through me. His fingers were still stroking me within and without, his arm around my back tightening, hand gripping the back of my bared thigh, hard enough to bruise. 

As the stars cleared and normal breath returned, I blinked, looked over Jamie’s shoulder…. then started giggling into his lapel. “Not ‘no one.’” 

“What?” he demanded in an annoyed hiss, breathing heavily. 

The oboist—has a mag—nificent—view.” 

He swore under his breath and jumped back, clearly about to beat a hasty retreat toward propriety, but I would have none of that, and was already dragging him downward into the greater fray.

He opened his mouth to protest but I was faster. “On your back,” I said, low and commanding. “Right now.” 

That growl of lust

I was in no mood to tease, in no mood for anything except to have him, and as soon as he was bared, I did, that first rush of contact making us both gasp and groan. SIX. BLOODY. WEEKS.  

My chest bent low over his so as not to be seen, I ground against him, using that extra contact to my advantage, taking twice for myself everything I gave, though I suspect I was giving him quite a lot. It hadn’t been mere banter, earlier—he did love to see me drunk, to watch my inhibition fall away, leaving only the pleasure-hungry beast within. He was watching me now, intently, his own drunken beast out in force, too. Without a single bloody sound, we were ravaging one another. Though I loved him with all my being, would cradle and gentle him forever, this wasn’t making love; this was fucking, hedonistic and violent, and I gloried in it. 

In this drunken state of blazing euphoria, the pounding music seemed to come from within me, driving me to greater speeds—con fuoco, indeed—giving me that feeling of unbridled victory as I chased that wave, higher, higher, my toes curling and my skin igniting as—


And so drunk was I on myself and the spasms ripping through me that I opened my eyes, met Jamie’s with fiendish delight, and finished him, nearly coming again myself to feel his release and his ecstatic groan vibrating through me with such intensity— 

It truly was too bad that said groan coincided with the very final chord of the symphony. I had to fling myself forward and clamp hands over his mouth as the world’s tiniest pianissimo fermata—incidentally held by only two or three players— faded slooooooowly out into silence. 

I could feel the thump of Jamie’s heartbeat in my body. 




And then, AT LAST, blessed applause. 

“Well,” I sighed heavily at normal volume above the raucous ovation, leaning down and nipping Jamie’s slack lip mercilessly. “Sounds like they enjoyed the show too, mm?” 


Presley series! Find other parts Here!

You had been nauseous.

That’s when you first thought of the possibility, but it still wasn’t time for you to have your period, so you didn’t think much about it. 

But when your time came and went and you still hadn’t, that’s when you got a test.

You weren’t sure if you should tell Shawn you were taking a test. Would he be disappointed if it said no. Or, would he be disappointed if it said yes. 

This was scary, the last time you went through this you were alone, and you didn’t want that to happen again. It was hard enough the first time, but now with Presley, it was almost impossible.

So you took the test without him. 

With shaky hands you peed on the stick, capping the end when you finished. You ‘bout dropped the damn thing when you set it on the counter, your hands were shaking so much.

You proceeded to get up and wash your hands after flushing. You thought the two minutes the first time you ever took a test was long, this time it felt like it was taking years for a fucking minute to pass.

The the timer beeped. 

You gulped, and rubbed your face as you walked to the counter. You slowly took the stick and made yourself look at the answer. 

Holy shit.

You are pregnant.

It’s been a week since you found out. Shawn has just gotten home from a small trip to LA. He’s recording what he’s calling your album. 

Everything is about you. The songs, the purpose, the muse. Everything.

You had gone over every way you could tell him in your head. You could do some cute, tumblr worthy reveal but that’s not your relationship with Shawn. 

It’s more of a personal, between just you too. 

So that’s how your gonna do it, when your alone. 

“Hey wife.” He grins walking in the bedroom, Presley on his hip. He sets his bag down and walks to you. You smile, and it’s hitting you hard. 

You’re having his baby.

“Hey.” You say, trying not to get tearful.

Damn hormones.

He leans down and kisses you. You lean up on your toes to reach him better and pull away remembering that he’s holding Presley. 

“Did you do something new?” He asks staring at you.


“I don’t know, you are just glowing.” He says, smile playing on his lips. 

“Presley, can you go get your jamas on?” You ask, looking over at her. 

Really you just wanted to get her out of the room so you could tell Shawn. He’s been home less than 10 minutes and you already can’t keep it from him.

“And brush your teeth and I’ll meet you for your bedtime story.” Shawn agrees, setting he down. She runs off to her room, closing her door. 

Shawn starts to walk to his bag but you catch his hand. He looks over at you confused as you pull him to the bathroom.

“What?” He asks as you sit him in the toilet lid. 

“I need to show you something.” You say, opening the top drawer and pulling out the positive pregnancy test. You hand it to him and wait to see his reaction.

“What is this?” He asks looking from you to him. He looks so confused but then it’s like it hits him. “Wait.” He looks up at your smiling face. He looks back at the test and then you again. “The two lines means positive right?” 

“Yeah Shawn, it’s positive.”

“Holy shit.”

You laugh and say, “That’s what I said.”

“You are really pregnant?”

“Yeah.” You rub your still flat tummy. He smiles wide, his large hand finding your stomach. 

“Come here.” He says pulling you to him by your hips. You stand in front of him, belly to his face. He smiles as you caress his face. “Hey Munchkin.” His hands rub your belly. “It’s your Dad.” You feel yourself tear up. “I love you so much, and I’m gonna be here for you whatever you need. Just do me a favor okay, just be nice to your mom while your in there.” He peers up at you. His face falters when he sees you crying, making him rise and take you into his strong arms.

“I’m okay, it’s just my hormones.”

“Oh okay, but these are good tears right?”

“The best.” You giggle. 

“So Presley, you know when I asked if you wanted a brother or a sister?” You ask one night, deciding on a whim that it’s time to tell her. Shawn looks up from his phone and she looks up from her drawing.

“Yeah.” She says nodding.

“What would you think if you were going to get one?”


“No.” You laugh. “In about 7 months.” 

“Can it be a sister?” 

“Maybe, but it might be a brother.” You say.

“Where does it come from?” She asks confused.

“It’s in Mommy’s tummy.” Shawn answers.

“Did you eat it?” She’s really confused now. You and Shawn both laugh at her question.

“No, I didn’t eat it. We have so much love in our family that we made a baby, and it’s in Mommy’s tummy and will come out when it’s big enough to be here with us.”

“Oh, so not for a while.” 

“Yeah.” You both nod.  

Shawn’s away for a meeting in New York, he’s also on a Talk Show and then Jimmy Fallon.

iMessage from Husband: Baby check up please.

iMessage to Husband: What does that mean?

iMessage from Husband: Send me proof my baby and babygirl are all good. 

iMessage to Husband: All good Love.

iMessage from Husband: God I love you, keep my Munchkin safe.

iMessage to Husband: Your Munchkin is safe, promise. 

You don’t hear from him after that, knowing he was on Fallon tonight you knew he was busy. You stay up late to watch him and get a notification from Instagram. 

shawnmendes has posted a picture

You open the app and wait for the picture to load, you gasp when you see what he’s posted. 

@ shawnmendes: October 4th 2021

You’re eyes go wide, he just told the world you were pregnant. 

You go to call him but then he walks out on stage on Fallon. His phone goes to voicemail, and your eyes narrow on him on the screen in front of him. 

“Hey man!” Fallon starts. 

They talk about his music, and new music videos. You’ve tried to call Andrew, Geoff and Brian ready to rip someones head off, but no one is answering their phone. 

“So I’m hearing that you shared an interesting picture before you came out here.”

“I did.” He nods. The picture shows in the background and he blushes as he looks back at it.

“Care to explain.” 

“I mean, what is there to explain.”

“Are you and your wife pregnant?” 

“I mean, what do you think?” He chuckles.

“How’s the wife taking the excitement.” 

“I’m sure she’s pissed at me, she didn’t know I was posting that.”

“Oh, yeah I’m sure your phone is blowing up.”

“It is.” He nods. 


“Extremely. This is number two for us, but so exciting.”

Holy shit he’s about to spill about Presley too.


“Um” He’s caught himself, realized what he just did. “Yeah, we’ve got a little one.”

“Since when?”

“Five years ago.” He laughs uncomfortably, knows he’s dead once he’s off that stage.

“Wow, I think that deserves a commercial break.”

The second a commercial comes on you are calling again.

“Hey.” He answers, he’s wary.

“Shawn? What the fuck, you just told about Presley and Munchkin.”

“I know, Munchkin was planned, she was not.”

“What the fuck?”

“Hey don’t use that language around my Munchkin.”

“Shawn, I am not in a joking mood right now. You didn’t even discuss this with me.”

“I know and I’m sorry but I couldn’t wait anymore, I had to post.”

“I hate you sometimes.”

“How are you?”

“A little pissed off and craving a burger.”

“A burger?”

“Yeah and fries and a chocolate milkshake.” 

“Hey I have to go back on, but I’ll talk to you after?”

“Yeah, don’t spill anymore personal secrets.”

“Promise” He says before the line goes dead.

You are drifting off to sleep on the couch, Shawn’s interview over, A knock sounds on the door and you jump awake. You walk to the door, grabbing Shawn’s flannel and pulling it on over your tank top. You look out the window and see Matt standing on your porch.

“Matt?” You ask opening the door for him.

“Hi.” He smiles, sleep thick in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been sent with food.” He says holding a brown bag that smells of fries. “Also a milkshake.”

“Did he really send you to get me food?”

“Yeah, said it was part of an apology.”

“Awe.” You sigh.

“Here.” He hands you the food. 

“Do you want like coffee or something for the road?”

“Nah, thanks tho.”

“Thanks Matt, you didn’t have too.”

“He loves you, and I know he spilled the beans without telling you but don’t be too mad. He’s just excited. He literally ran around the whole arena after your first appointment, showing the picture to everyone.”

“He did?” 

“He’s just so excited, and when he’s excited he can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“I know.”

“Alright, I’m gonna go. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks Matt.” You wave as he walks down the driveway to his car.

iMessage to Husband: Thanks for the burger, fries and milkshake. I love you Baby. Love that you’re my Munchkins Dad.

“Hey Baby.” Shawn smiles as you walk out of the bathroom.

“Morning.” You smile at him. He grins back, loving your energy.

“Wait stop, I want a picture. You look so good there.” He says taking his phone out. He snaps a few pictures, telling you how hot you look and how much he loves you.

“Did you get your picture?” 

“Yeah come take a look.”

“Damn my wife is beautiful.” He smiles as he looks at the picture. 

“Shh.” You blush pushing his face to the side. He grins and kisses you, hands on your stomach. 

“My munchkin is getting so big.” He whispers looking down at his hands that hold your stomach.

“I know, he can’t get much bigger. I’ll be a whale.”

“Shh.” He hushes you. “You won’t be a whale, you’ll be my smoking hot wife that’s carrying my Munchkin.”

“You know, we found out it was a boy and we decided on a name, you can call him Raul now.”

“But he’s my Munchkin, been calling him that since day one.”

“I know.”

“So yeah, I’ve got my Raul, but Raul is my Munchkin.”

“I hope he looks like you.” 


He was nominated for a Grammy. 

Although no one wanted to talk about his music, they just wanted to talk about you and Raul. 

They were dying to find out a sex, and a name. You both had decided that that was personal and that you wanted to keep that to yourself, you’re family didn’t even know. Not even Presley. 

“You look incredible.” He whispers in your ear, whiskey on his breath.

“Thanks Babe, you’re killing me in that shirt” 

“I know I am, but you’re wearing that dress, so?” He grins. 

“Shawn.” You whine quietly, catching his gaze that had moved back to the awards. “I want you.”


“I want you.” 


You couldn’t help it. With your hormones and him in his white button up and fluffy curls. You were needy and horny and needed him.


“I mean, I’m not gonna say no to that. Where?”


“Get the fuck up.” He growls in your ear. 

The locks behind you and it gets a little steamy during your time in the bathroom. He’s smiling at you like a mad man when he buttons his shirt back up. You’re fixing yourself in the mirror, making sure you’re good to go. 

“Stop smiling like you just got lucky.” You tease as he can’t stop smirking.

“But I did just get lucky.” He says kissing your cheek. You giggle and have him zip up your dress again. 

“Take a picture with me.” You say catching his hand as he tries to leave.

“We literally just had sex and now you want a picture.”

“Pregnancy update.” You shrug. “We’ll hide your ‘just fucked’ face.” You say grabbing your phone. He laughs at your comment and stands next you, grabbing his whiskey. You snap a few pictures and then head back out to your seats. 

He didn’t win, but he’s honored he was nominated. He makes a post anyway, as she falls asleep against his shoulder on the couch. He got her heels off and she begged to cuddle before bed, and he couldn’t say no as she pleaded with her puppy dog look. 

@ shawnmendes: Who needs a Grammy when you have a Trophy Wife.

Time for your maternity pictures. 

Shawn is recording so he couldn’t make it, but Presley could. She promised to step in and take pictures with her Mom since he couldn’t be there.

They were almost finished when you asked to take one on your phone to send to Shawn.

iMessage to Husband: She did great filling in today. Munchkin looked good.

iMessage from Husband: God I am so lucky, my family is the most beautiful one out there, swear to god. 

@ shawnmendes: October 2nd 2021, Raul Issac Mendes. 

We thank you for the love and support. Mom and Son are perfect. My Munchkin made it two days before he was due, had a speedy delivery and came in at 8 pounds 20 inches. So glad my Munchkin is here. I couldn’t be happier to have this family. 

For my little girl, I hope you know that I love you to the moon and back. That I’ll always be here for you and I’ll always believe in you. 

For my Wife, I hope you know that I love you, forever and always. You gave me a family that I can’t ever repay you for, but I hope that my being there and support can be start to. I love you more everyday and you are so beautiful, that I love looking at you.

And now, for my Boy. You are so loved, and gonna be so spoiled. I love and am gonna protect you. You’re my boy and I can’t wait to watch you grow.

 We may be even in the house with two boys and two girls, but our girls come first and they will be protected at all times. I just have an extra set of hands now

Secrets, Songs and Bad Habits

In which the reader and Jughead develop a strange dynamic.

A/N: My second fic and it’s awful, I thought practice made perfect? Apparently not but it doesn’t matter because I’m posting it anyways.

Warnings: Language, kissing and smoking (don’t do it kids it’s bad for you)

You were the new girl in town, the new addition to the river vixens and with an ass that made the entire football team want you and sass that made jaws drop. Jughead was the dark, brooding loner kid with more baggage than an airport and sarcasm that got him a one-way ticket to a black eye. Your paths could never intertwine, it was the rule and yet somehow you had both found yourselves wondering around the derelict building-site that was now The Twilight Drive-in. You casually leant against the scaffolding, a cigarette between your fingers and thick smoke escaping from your plump parted lips, unaware that somebody else was lurking around too.  

“That’ll kill you y’know,” a husky male voice came from behind you but you didn’t turn your head, simply rolled your eyes and continued to smoke leisurely.

“Wow, really? I had no idea, thanks random stranger now that you’ve told me that I’ll quit immediately,” you replied with sickly sweet sarcasm. The mysterious voice let out a low chuckle and the body to which it belonged stepped in front on you, illuminated by the lit end of the cigarette now between your lips. The boy stuck out his hand and introduced himself as “Jughead Pendleton Jones the Third” to which you scoffed but shook his hand nevertheless. You vaguely recognised him from the school hallways and from your English class.

“Do you have a name?” he asked.

“No,” you answered peering up at his tall frame but he just narrowed his eyes and glared back at you expectantly. “(Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Well (Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N) what are you doing here at two o’clock in the morning? Other than filling your lungs with tar that is.”

“I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d come and explore this part of town,” you strode up to him and folded your arms across your chest in annoyance, tilting your head at an impossible angle so that you could glare back at him.

“I hope you’re aware that there is a killer on the loose, this is a rough part of town princess and that sarcasm can’t save you from a bullet,” he said in a hushed tone.

“I’m aware of that but I can take care of myself thanks!” you spat.

“I seriously doubt that.”


“You’re like three feet tall.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes again but couldn’t help your lips from curling into a small smirk. And then you realised the hypocrisy of the lean, beanie-clad boy before you.

“Hey, what are you doing here at two o’clock in the morning? For all I know you’re the killer in question,” you asked furrowing your brows and poking him in the chest with a perfectly manicured nail.

It was his turn to smirk and he told you that you were right, he could be the killer but he promised you that he wasn’t. you held out your pinkie and told him to pinkie promise that he wasn’t and he simply linked his pinkie with yours in response. You smiled widely.

“So Jughead Pendleton Jones the Third,” you mimicked his voice when you said his name and you could have sworn that he almost smiled, “what’s with the crown beanie and the whole angsty look?”

“I won’t be judged on my appearance by the girl in an oversized hoodie, no pants and…ugg boots.” He retorted with a breathy laugh.

“Hey these are my pyjamas, not my everyday attire. If you see me in school, I’ll be wearing heels and skirts and crop tops thank you very much!” you shrieked and flipped your hair. You continued to bicker and chat with him until you had reached the end of your smoke. You threw the butt on the ground and stepped on it before turning to leave. As you walked away from him you briefly turned your head to mutter a quick “see ya” only to see him jogging to catch up with you.

“Stalking me now Jones?”

“Like I said (Y/L/N) there’s a killer on the loose, I can’t let an unarmed dwarf wander the streets all by herself, now can I?”

You huffed but allowed him to walk beside you to your suburban home. Once you reached your driveway, you beckoned Jughead to follow you around to the side of your house. Confused, he followed you.

“Give me a leg-up?” you asked him, doe eyes silently pleading. He simply rolled his eyes but kneeled down and clasped his hands together nevertheless. You quietly squealed in delight and stepped onto his hands, hoisting yourself up onto the flat roof of your garage. From there you tiptoed over to your window and slid up your window. Just before clambering inside you turned back to your new friend.

“Thanks, see you around Jughead,” and with that you climbed through the opening and closed the window.

Jughead watched as you clambered into your bed and snuggled down. He began to walk away with a smile on his face paired with the strong feeling that you would not in fact see him around. You were from a different world, a world with a best friend named Cheryl Blossom and Reggie Mantle and the like hot on your heels.

The following day at school, as you were talking to Reggie, you noticed Jughead stood by the lockers talking to a ginger haired jock and two of your fellow Vixens; one with short dark hair and the other with a tight blonde ponytail. You caught his eye and shot him a wave to which he swallowed dryly and shook his head slightly. You furrowed your brows and turned back to Reggie, confused and annoyed that he seemed like he didn’t want to know you. That is why you were so surprised when that night, as you climbed out of your window and off of your roof, you were met with a nonchalantly awaiting Jughead.  

“Oh, so you won’t acknowledge me at school but you think its okay to turn up at my house in the middle of the night?” you were royally miffed.

“Yeah…no princess, I will accompany you to and from the drive-in so that you don’t get murdered. If I didn’t I would be a total ass. But other than that we don’t know each other, people like you and people like me don’t fraternise in the real world.”

“So this, right now isn’t the real world Jughead?”


“Okay then…did you just come here to argue with me or are you going to walk me.”

He didn’t answer, he just started to walk and you followed. Over the next few weeks this continues. Every night at two o’clock you would meet Jughead outside your house and you would walk. Sometimes to the drive-in and sometimes just around town, exploring. He would talk and you would smoke and then you would go home. You liked his company, his wit and his sarcasm and he loved your fiery nature and flirtatious gestures, he adored the way that you were always completely confident in yourself. Despite this, at school, he would ignore you and you would reluctantly do the same. Neither of you realised that you both stole secretive glances at each other.

It was five minutes until the vixens were due to perform with The Pussycats and Josie’s voice had completely gone. In its place was a scratchy whisper, courtesy of a throat infection. Cheryl was freaking out. Who was going to sing? How would we perform without a singer to sing our song? How will Valerie and the drummer do it without a lead singer? Then the redheaded girl snapped her head to face you, the memory of you drunkenly singing at one of her infamous soirees suddenly invading her thoughts.

“(Y/N) you have to go up there!”

“…and say what exactly Cher?”

“Not say, sing, you know the song, we’ve been practicing it for the routines.”

“I can’t what about Josie, what about the routine?”

“Can you not sing and dance?”

“…yeah  okay…but what about Josie….”you were cut off by the pussycat herself.

“Oh hunny you’d be doing me a favour, I don’t wanna be known as the leader of a group that lets people down now can I?”

“Okay fine, I’ll do it but if I flop then don’t blame me, I’m not a singer.”

Cheryl beamed and ushered you onto the stage at the edge of the football field, following closely behind. She scurried over to the mayor, whispering something in her ear and pointing over to Josie who was desperately slurping at a bottle of foul-smelling cough syrup. The mayor nodded, sighed and then plastered a smile on her face before stepping towards the microphone and addressing the swarms of people in the stands.

“Riverdale, a town of pep has never been a more accurate term for our wonderful town,” as she spoke the marching band paraded and Cheryl had joined the rest of the Vixens that had assembled, pom-poms at the ready. She turned around to give you an encouraging smile and then turned back to face the crowd with a pout. “I am proud introduce our very own River Vixens who will be performing with Valerie Brown, Melody Valentine and newcomer (Y/N) (Y/L/N) who will be filling in for my lovely daughter.”

After sharing some confused glances, the audience cheered and you plastered false confidence on your face before picking up the mic. The music began and you took in a deep breath preparing for your impending embarrassment.

I’ve been here all night

I’ve been here all day

And boy, got me walkin’ side to side

I’m talkin’ to ya

See you standing over there with your body

You pointed your finger to the audience and wiggled it seductively before circling your hips and dropping to the ground, springing back up.

Feeling like I wanna rock with your body

And we don’t gotta think ‘bout nothin’

I’m comin’ at ya

You spotted Jughead in the crowd, he gazing at you intently and you flushed under his stare, biting your lip and tearing away so that you could continue undistracted.

'Cause I know you got a bad reputation

Doesn’t matter, 'cause you give me temptation

And we don’t gotta think 'bout nothin’

These friends keep talkin’ way too much

Say I should give you up

Can’t hear them no, 'cause I

I’ve been here all night

I’ve been here all day

And boy, got me walkin’ side to side

I’ve been here all night

I’ve been here all day

And boy, got me walkin’ side to side

Been tryna hide it

Baby what’s it gonna hurt if they don’t know?

Makin’ everybody think that we solo

Just as long as you know you got me

And boy I got ya

'Cause tonight I’m making deals with the devil

And I know it’s gonna get me in trouble

Just as long as you know you got me


These friends keep talkin’ way too much

Say I should give you up

Can’t hear them no, 'cause


I’ve been here all night

I’ve been here all day

And boy, got me walkin’ side to side

I’ve been here all night

I’ve been here all day

And boy, got me walkin’ side to side

You finished breathless and attempted to courtesy in your skimpy cheer uniform before hopping down the steps beside the stage. You ran towards Cheryl and the Bulldogs that had now run onto the field. She hugged you and squealed her praise. You spotted Jughead over her shoulder but chose to ignore him, that is what he wanted after all. As you made your way through the boys you were wolf-whistled and sloppily hugged until you felt your feet leave the ground. You squealed in confusion and shock until your captor turned you around in his arms and you were met with the face of Reggie.

“You’re one hell of a performer Dollface,” he yelled spinning you around and holding you tightly as you shrieked and laughed. You leant down and pulled him into a tight hug and kissed his cheek.

“Thanks Reg, now it’s your turn, go get ‘em tiger!” he hugged you once more before planting your feet on the ground, squeezing your ass cheekily and jogging off to start the game as you were left giggling at his boyish antics.

It was then that you felt the all-too-familiar craving for a cigarette so you meandered your way behind the bleachers. You fumbled with your pocket, trying to prise out your packet and lighter and not concentrating on where you were going. You bumped into something tall and dark. You looked up to find that the thing was in fact a Jughead. A very pissed off looking Jughead.

“Shit sorry Juggie!” you squealed through a giggle, still in the midst of the rush from perfroming, He just huffed out an exasperated sigh and turned to walk off. “Jug?”

No response.

“Jughead?” he continued to storm away from you. “Jughead Jones the Third don’t fucking ignore me, where are you going?”

“Sorry I forgot I had to check in with the singing dwarf” he muttered bitterly, whirling around to face your direction. Your brows furrowed and (Y/E/C) orbs widened at him in shock and confusion, clearly waiting for an answer. “Reggie, (Y/N) are you serious, why are you even talking to him let alone allowing him to touch you?”

You were silent for a moment as your anger towards the boy bubbled inside you before spilling over and scalding everything in its path. You couldn’t believe that Jughead was trying to control you like this, he wouldn’t speak to you in school so why did he get to dictate how you behaved around your friends.

“Are you fucking kidding me Jones?” you shrieked, lunging towards him and shoving your tiny palms against his slender chest. “You don’t want to know me at school and yet now you think it’s cool for you to criticise my choice in friends?”

“Hmm gee princess I thought you were smarter than that.”

“What are you talking about asshole?”

“Well I think your friend Reggie has a little more than friendship on his mind.”

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you Jones.” You retorted, scoffing. You stood on your tiptoes and peered up at him, faces mere inches apart. He leaned impossibly closer so that your noses brushed and you could feel his hot breath on your skin. With that you pulled out a cigarette and lit it, blowing the smoke into his face and striding away defiantly leaving him stood bewildered, guilty and alone.

It was two in the morning and you were lying on your bed clad in your underwear and a large hoodie when you an incessant knocking on your curtain-covered window could be heard. Curiously you strode over and yanked open the blinds to be met with the face of a sheepish beanie-wearing boy. You rolled your eyes and exasperatedly unlatched your window and pushed it up with a huff.

“Grovelling isn’t going to work Jug just piss off,”you hissed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“(Y/N)…please…” you huffed in annoyance but made no effort to dismiss him. “Can I please come in before I fall?”


“Okay…can you come down then?”

“I don’t have any shoes.”

“I’ll carry you.”


He smirked triumphantly but immediately returned sheepish when he saw you pouting in annoyance. He clambered down and waited with open arms on the grass beside your house as you lowered yourself into his grasp. He turned you around so that your legs wrapped around his waist and he could rest your back against the wall. You huffed at the position but made no effort to move as the grass was damp and muddy.

“I’m sorry,” Jughead whispered. “I was jealous and stupid and I’m sorry. I mean, you infuriate me and you’re so fucking sexy that it’s really distracting…. up there on that stage you were incredible…and even your bad habits drive me crazy… I can’t write anything because all i can think about is your lips on mine instead of the end of a cigarette. I can’t concentrate around you and It’s driving me insane because I need you but I can’t have you.”

You bit your lip at his babbled, whispered confession, realising exactly what he meant. He liked you. You saw his eyes flit from your lips and then back and you felt butterflies in the pit of your stomach. You leaned in and brushed your nose against his, looking up at him with doe eyes and batting your thick lashes. His chest heaved against  you with each laboured breath and you brought your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through the raven hair at the nape, eliciting goosebumps on his olive skin. You became aware of the feeling of his large hands that were holding your bare thighs, fuelling the heat that was spreading over your body.

“Juggie.” you leaned in so that your lips were almost touching and he could feel your whisper tickling his cupids bow.


“I’m here, nobody else and I want you, nobody else, I have since we first met. You’re such a sarcastic ass sometimes and you’re angsty and brooding but you have the biggest heart and I love that about you. You literally met me, a virtual stranger and took it upon yourself to see that I made it safely to and from my house every night. That’s completely mental. Nobody else would do that for me, Jug.” 

“Wow Princess, you made me sound like a real catch, no wonder you’re totally in love with me.” he answered cockily, a lopsided smirk gracing his delicate features.

“Don’t flatter yourself Jones, need I remind you who it was that came here to grovel?” you replied, raising an eyebrow and mimicking his smirk then you bit your lip once more and beckoned him closer with your eyes and crashed your lips to his. He kissed back, tentatively at first until you ground your hips into his making it abundantly clear that you needed more. He gripped your thighs tighter and moaned into your mouth which allowed you to slip in your tongue. He pulled you flush against him, needing to hold you as close as possible before reluctantly pulling away.

“What about everyone else, what about school, Reggie?” he asked breathlessly, becoming serious once more so you kissed him again, tongue sliding between his lips slowly and sensually.

“They’re not here Juggie, it’s just you and me.”

Strip Club

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Author: @ninja-stiles

Words: 2427

Prompt #1: Why are we at a strip club? by anonymous

Author’s Note: This was fun to write, and I’ve been told that I need to make a part two or a mini series! Thanks to @were-cheetah-stiles for proofreading this for me, she’s great guys!

Originally posted by sarcasticallystilinski

Keep reading

SELFISH (Part 3.5) - Stiles Stilinski smut

Summary: With your business trip finally upon you, you drag a reluctant Liam to the Bahamas. Five days with your largest business rivals, cheating ex-boyfriend and Stiles - what could possibly go wrong? (Probably a lot of things).

Word count: Amazingly, 7.6k. Blame the smut. Always blame the smut.

Warnings: we’re getting kinky. This chapter deals with elements of BDSM including *unravels scroll* daddy kink, bondage, blindfold, orgasm denial. Also Theo dancing. 

A/N: I know some people aren’t a fan of daddy kink, so pls delight in the fact that you can skip over it! It holds little relevance to the plot other than emphasising their relationship and providing y’all w some filth. It’s very obvious where the smut begins.

However, if you do, MAKE SURE YOU READ THE END OF THIS PART! The last section of this chapter is absolutely crucial for the rest of the fic. 

Song of the part: Acquainted - The Weeknd


Originally posted by dazzadazzledazz

oh? is that drama I smell?

Keep reading

Rushed Confessions - Requested

Tom Holland x Reader

Words: 1,905

Requested by: anonymous

“Can you do a tom holland x reader where the reader is sam and harry’s age and the three of them are really close but tom has always lowkey liked her and when he comes home or whatever he just like word vomits to her about liking her and just fluff?”

I absolutely loved this request, I may have tweaked it just a tiny bit, I hope you don’t mind. Also, apologies if it took so long! Thank you so much for sending it in, and I hope you like it! As always, REQUESTS ARE OPEN.


“Sam, mate, you’re supposed to catch it with your hands, not your face.”

“Shut up, Tom.”

“Sam! Sam! I’m open!”

Another day, another round of squabbles from the Holland brothers. The sound of their feet scuffling along the ground filled your ears along with a few (more than a few) colourful words coming from their mouths. The lads were playing basketball, if you could call it that. It actually looked more like they were just throwing the ball around then tackling each other afterwards.

“I’m not quite sure if that’s how basketball works.” You remarked from your spot on the Hollands’ backyard deck, there was no fucking way in hell that you were joining in with those cavemen.

“It’s not.” replied Paddy from next to you

“Padster, how come you aren’t joining in?” you asked

Paddy rolled up his shirt sleeve to reveal a rather nasty looking bruise. You let out a gasp that he promptly rolled his eyes at.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’s just a bruise, doesn’t even hurt.”

Harry let out a yelp as Sam and Tom tackled him to the ground. Paddy ran over to them, concerned for his older brother. You didn’t move though, you just rolled your eyes. He’d shake it off, like he always does.

Most your days were spent like this, being an honourary part of the Holland family, you basically lived with them. Sam, Harry, Tom, and you had christened yourselves “The Fab Four” since you were children, the fact that Tom was three years older than the rest of you never posed an issue (since he’s basically a child).

“Thanks for the concern, Y/N.” Harry said sarcastically as he passed you, going into the house to get some ice for his arm

“You’re so welcome, my child.”

“Shut up, we’re the same age!” he hollered from inside

You chuckled, quite pleased with yourself. Your phone beeped in your hands, you looked down to check it.

With Harry inside, the game had ceased. Sam had lifted Paddy above his head so he could reach the hoop.

“And here comes Paddy Holland with the winning shot!” Tom said in his special sports announcer voice

Paddy dunked the ball and both his brothers cheered. You chuckled to yourself but didn’t look up, too engrossed in your phone, well, until it was snatched from your hands.

“Rude!” you yelled, whipping around to face your enemy. All five feet and eight inches of Thomas Stanley Holland stood before you, he was smiling, your phone held high above his head.

“Using my height to your advantage, I see.”

Tom shrugged. “Well, love, I’ve got to. Sam and Harry make me look like a joke.”

Your attempts to jump for your phone were futile but since you weren’t one to back down easily, especially when it came to the brothers, you bent your knees and sprung upward forcefully. And although it was valiant effort, Tom caught you by your waist before you could even grab your phone.

Gravity pushed you down, inevitably taking Tom down with you. Your bodies crashed down onto the floor but Tom made sure to lay you on top of him so he could absorb the majority of the impact. The wind rushed out of your lungs as your back hit Tom’s chest, you heard him grunt from under you.

Sam and Paddy watched you two with interest, they shared a knowing look but said nothing, carrying on with their game.

“Tom! You fucking idiot!” you exclaimed, struggling to roll off of him since he was holding onto you tightly

He let out a big laugh, squeezing you. Tom has always loved you, he’s never told you right out, but as they say, actions speak louder than words. And in Tom’s case? They were screaming.

“Tom, come on, let go!” you elbowed him, making him loosen his grip on you

The both of you sat up, catching your breath. Your eyes met briefly, and you burst out laughing uncontrollably.

Paddy nudged Sam, “Look at them. Do you think Tom likes Y/N?”

“I’ll be damned if he didn’t.” Sam replied, noticing the way Tom looked at you.

Dom and Nikki invited you to stay for dinner which wasn’t an unusual occurrence. You all sat around the dining table, eating, laughing, swapping stories, and basically being a picture perfect family.

“I can’t stress enough how nice it is to have another lass in the house, Y/N. I’m so glad you’re around more often, love.” Nikki smiled at you from next to Dom

“I’ll be around even more, if you’d like.” you joked, earning laughs from everyone

“We’d love that, wouldn’t we, Tess?” Tom scratched the Blue staffy that has been sitting by his feet the entire dinner, scarfing down scraps happily

“Tom would love that.” Harry muttered as he sipped from his glass, a bruise was forming on his arm from their earlier game. Tom froze upon hearing his brother’s remark. What did this little fucker know?

Your spoon was suspended halfway to your mouth, you looked to Harry with a confused look on your face. The lighthearted chatter continued around you.

“We,” Sam punctuated, looking briefly at Tom “would all love that, Y/N. We could be the Three Musketeers while Tom is away.”

Tom inwardly sighed in relief. He gave Sam a thankful look, then simultaneously frowned at Harry.

“You could still be the Fab Four. I could stand-in for Tom.” Paddy said hopefully and oh-so adorably. You gave him an affectionate look and nodded.

“Of course you can stand-in for Tom. He’s a butt anyway for leaving us here.” you stuck your tongue out at the oldest Holland boy, which he returned. The parents snickered at all your antics, feeling accomplished for having created such a beautiful family.

“Who’s going to stand-in for Harry, then?” Dom asked

“Harry’s irreplaceable.” you stated nonchalantly, eating the last of your roast dinner

Dom stood up from his seat and called for everyone’s attention. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please? I’d better, or else you’re all grounded, except you, Y/N.”

You pumped your fist in the air triumphantly as everyone laughed.

“I just want to toast to Tom.” Dom continued, “As I always tell you, your life is changing. We all pray you never forget where you’ve come from, son. You’re doing us proud, representing Team Holland on the world stage and completely eclipsing my career. Safe travels, my boy!”

“Hear, hear!” Harry exclaimed as everyone raised their glasses


“Need help?” you strode into the kitchen, dinner having just ended. Tom was already doing the dishes, just like he always did.

“Oh shit, hey.” he hastily shut off the tap and turned to you

You leaned against the counter, gazing at Tom thoughtfully. He gazed back at you, trying to remember the way you looked.

“I thought you’d left already.” Tom said softly, leaning against sink, crossing his arms.

“Without saying good bye to my favourite Holland?” you replied, giving him a sly smile

He couldn’t stop the blush that spread across his cheeks. “And here I thought Harry was your favourite Holland, what with him being irreplaceable and all.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, well, well. I didn’t think my little comment would get under your skin so much.”

He ran his still soapy hands through his hair, not noticing the suds that stuck to his hair.

“You’re always getting under my skin, Y/N.” he chuckled nervously as you moved closer to him

“It’s a talent. Hold still a minute, Tom.” His heart nearly stopped as you reached up to brush the soap suds from his hair. His eyes involuntarily fluttered shut, savouring your touch.

“Y/N,” Tom breathed out once he felt your hand caress his cheek

“I-I’m sorry.” you stuttered out in reply, wringing your hands nervously. Had you crossed a line?

You began inching closer towards the doorway. Tom finally snapped out of his stupor and noticed your retreating form, he grabbed your hand. “No, Y/N, wait. I-I need to tell you something.”

A mixture of confusion and anticipation flooded your veins. He took a deep, cleansing breath that he expected would give him the composure he needed to say what he wanted to say, but instead:


Real smooth, Tom, real smooth.

Both of you stood in stunned silence, allowing Tom’s rushed confession permeate the still air. The rest of the Hollands were eavesdropping on you from the opposite side of the walls.

“You.. You what?” you managed to get out

Tom just wanted to pull his hair out, how he wished he had some of that Spider-man confidence right about now. He took another deep breath, and looked you right in the eyes.

“I love you. I have loved you for a long time now but I never said anything because I thought you’d think it was weird.”

There it was. He’d finally laid it all out for you. Now was your chance, you could finally release all of your pent up feelings for Tom, you could finally tell him how much he actually meant to you without the fear of being rejected or the fear of ruining the amazing friendship you two had built.

“Eight years,” you mumbled, just loud enough for Tom to hear “Eight years, I’ve been keeping this from you, from all of you.”

His heart was racing. Could it be? Was he luckier than he thought?

“What are you saying, Y/N?”

You shook your hair out in mild frustration. “Tom. I’ve loved you since I was ten.”

And with that, Tom took you in his arms in a bone crushing hug. He then lifted you in the air and spun you around like you didn’t weigh a thing. A mix of elation and adrenaline was coursing through Tom’s veins, you didn’t have to say anything else, the kiss Tom pressed to your lips did all the talking for you.

Now comfortably seated on the couch, you and Tom snuggled together. His hand drew patterns on your back while the other held yours tightly. It was already rather late, the realization that Tom was leaving tomorrow hit you rather hard.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he whispered to you “And I was wondering, Ms. Y/L/N, if you would like to accompany me for a few weeks?”

You looked up at his handsome face, trying to gauge if he was actually serious. “You want me to come with you?”

“Of course, Y/N.” he replied sincerely, placing a gentle kiss on your lips

“I’d love to.. But, maybe you should ask my folks first?”

Tom laughed. “I will. Don’t worry, they love me. They won’t say no.”

“I admire your confidence, Thomas.”

“Not as much as I admire you… So, you’ve been in love with me since you were ten?” he wiggled his eyebrows at you with the smuggest look on his face

“Shove off, Tom.”

He got on top of you and began peppering your face with kisses. “Oh, come on, Y/N! You know you looooove me.”

And you did. You really, really did. The best part was, he loved you too.

The Styles’ tutu.

Concept: Harry and Y/N attending their toddler’s dance recital.



“Sweetheart, are you ready?” Harry asked, entering the room, a smile making his way on his face as his eyes fell on you.

“Yeah, there.” You said, staring at your reflection in the mirror as you clipped your earrings. You fixed your dress before turning around to find your husband leaning on the doorframe with a smirk on his face. You giggled, “What now?”

Harry’s teeth caught his bottom lip as he closed his eyes and let his head rest on the doorframe, the smirk still on his face. He looked at you as he approached you, hands brushing down your arms before holding your hands in his. “You look absolutely wonderful.”

Despite being married for 5 years and having been in a relationship since your early teenage years, butterflies still erupted in your stomach as well as a blush creeping to your face. “You look handsome as well, Mr. Styles.”

He chuckled, dipping his head to press his lips against yours in a loving kiss. “Ready?”

“Yeah, is Ella ready?” You asked and Harry nodded in response,

“She’s practicing downstairs.”

After that, you and Harry walked downstairs, catching the attention of your 4 years old Ella who was in a beige ballet costume. “Mummy!” She ran towards you, hugging your legs. “Are you excited?! Daddy told me he’s excited!”

You bent down, hugging her close to you. “I am, baby. And I’m so proud of you.” You grinned, your heart swelling at the grin she had as she played with your hair.

“Shall we go so we’re not late?” Harry asked, smiling down at the both of you. You nodded and stood up, Ella taking a hold of your and Harry’s hand as she stood in the middle.

You walked outside your house after Harry had remembered to get Ella’s batman backpack which had snacks just in case, water and a casual dress.

You strapped Ella in the backseat after making sure that you hadn’t forgotten her converse to be put in the car and got yourself in the passenger seat with your seatbelt on before Harry had placed himself in the driver’s seat and drove off. Harry put low soft music as you and him listened to Ella ramble about the night ahead.

“And daddy! I’m going to be on a stage just like!” She said excitedly, a gasp following before she released a low excited squeal.

You squeezed Harry’s hand which you held on your lap, looking at him as he smiled. You know how much he takes pride in Ella and how supportive he is of her so her telling him that she was excited about doing something he does was enough to make him grin so wide. “Yeah? You like the stage just like daddy, El, don’t you?”

“Give me more, give me more.” You mimicked him quietly, watching as he let out a low laugh, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I love the stage, daddy. It makes me happy.”

“I’m glad it does, sweetheart. Daddy and mummy love it when you’re happy.” Harry said, eyes on the road with a soft smile on his face.

You turned in your seat to look at Ella and made a funny face at her which got her to giggle before she returned the face with one which looked too adorable. You both giggled before you settled back in your seat.

Harry glanced at you for a second, his face showing admiration before he raised your interwind hands, kissing your wedding ring and knuckles.


You and Harry greeted Ella’s ballet instructor as Ella held your hands, her face showing worry.

“Let’s go, Ella?” Jane, her instructor, spoke gently and cheerfully.

Ella’s grip tightened around your hands, making you and Harry share a look as your daughter remained in her place between you.

Jane noticed, looking at you and Harry before nodding, “I’ll give you a minute.” She smiled before walking off.

“Come here,” Harry said before bending and carrying Elle in his arms, perching her against his torso. You approached them, a soothing hand on her back. “What is it, darling? You were excited on the way here.”

“I’m,” She frowned, fighting back her tears but her glossy eyes soon let a tear drop, “I’m nervous.”

You frowned, looking at Harry whose face showed concern about his crying, nervous daughter in his arms. You dug in your bag for tissue, using it to wipe her tears. “Elle,” You cooed, rubbing her back.

She sniffled, looking down. Harry looked at her, “Remember when daddy got on stage and sang with uncle NiNi, Lili and Lou?” He asked her and she nodded. “The first time I did, I was so nervous. I was shaking and a mess. But do you know what happened?”

She sniffled and shook her head, raising her head, her eyes which were a replica of Harry’s staring at his own.

“I got on there and it was the most wonderful feeling ever.”

Ella calmed down, absorbing Harry’s words. “That one time I messed up on stage, your mummy was there for me backstage, gave me a kiss and a big hug and I was happy again. We’ll be watching you, darling. Near and close to you.”

You smiled softly at your husband before looking at Ella and rubbed her back soothingly. “Better?”

She nodded, a small smile making its way to her face. “Better.”

Harry let her down and both of you knelt down, engulfing her in a group hug.

“You’re going to be incredible on stage, honey. Daddy and I believe in you and you should do that, too.” You smiled, rubbing her back.

Harry nodded, placing a kiss on her cheek. “We love you.”

“I love you.” She replied back, kissing your and Harry’s cheeks before running off towards her other friends and instructor.

You stood up alongside Harry, his arm wrapping around your waist as you both walked towards your seats among other parents and families.

You let out a low, short squeal, “I’m nervous.”

Harry laughed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and giving you a squeeze, “Me, too.”

The dance began, lights dimmed and twinkling music playing, grabbing everyone’s attention and silencing everyone. Your hands were laced with each other near your heart, looking at the stage with all your concentration.

Ella came on stage and stood in her designated place before her eyes fell on you and Harry, giving an excited wave. You both giggled, waving back at her and Harry blew her a kiss.

She danced alongside her mates, perfecting every move and paying attention to every pose she made as if she was the real instructor behind all of this.

“Is that your daughter?” Someone beside you tapped on your shoulder, asking quietly.

You looked towards the woman beside you and smiled as she pointed at Ella. You nodded, “Yes, that’s my daughter.”

“She’s very good, seems to really love dancing.” The woman complimented with a warm smile before sitting back in her seat beside you. You gave her a smile and mouthed “Thank you” before your eyes were on the stage again.

“Looks like El is following her daddy’s footsteps into fame.” You said, still looking at your daughter who was twirling her friend.

Harry’s hand held the camera he had brought, filming Ella with a smile on his face as you watched her glance your way with a grin.

“She’s so good.” Harry whispered and you nodded, glancing at your grinning husband for a moment.

Music faded and soon, all the toddlers were standing in a line for their final curtesy. Everyone was on their feet, giving the children round of cheerful applause.

You and Harry clapped as if your favorite sports team has won. “That’s my daughter!” Harry screamed which caused Ella to laugh loudly with a squeal before she ran backstage. You and Harry quickly rushed through the crowd, giggling as you both held hands and ran towards the backstage. As soon you arrived, Ella was running towards you with a grin.

“Did you see me?! I did everything right! I didn’t fall!” She hugged the both of you.

“You were wonderful!” Harry told her, brushing her hair out of her face. “Know what? Mummy cried because of how good you were.” He told her, feigning wariness as he looked at you then back at her.

You let out a small laugh, feeling your eyes get tearful again. “Don’t think I didn’t see you getting tearful yourself, Styles.”

He smiled, shaking his head as there was no way for him to deny. “We’re so proud of you, love.”

“I’m happy the twirl we practiced payed off well.” You told her, raising your hand up for a high five.

Ella nodded excitedly and high fived you. “Thank you, mummy!”

“You practice without me?” Harry asked with a gasp, “You know I have a tutu of my own.”

“Your tutu is purple, we have matching white, don’t we, El?” You asked your daughter who nodded, giggling at her daddy.

“It’s okay, daddy. Next time, you can join me and mummy.” She patted his head genuinely, rubbing her other hand on his face — an action she had seen Harry do to you when you were said (although he would run his fingers delicately on yours and not rub his hand on your face but nevertheless, it was another cute of of Ella’s).

“Yeah? You’ll do that?” Harry smiled, bringing her closer to him and attacking her face with pampering pecks of kisses.

She giggled, fidgeting in his arms, “Yes, daddy, yes! Stop!” She laughed.

You laughed at the both of them before opening your camera on your phone, “Let’s take a photo.”

You stood up, looking around you before spotting a man with headphones and mic, along with a name tag that read his name and ‘TECHNICIAN’ written under it. “Hello, excuse me, could you take a photo of us?” You asked him politely with a smile to which he nodded at with a smile of his own and opening his palm.

“Of course! Would love to do that for a happy family like yours. Bless you.” He talked as you, Harry and Ella posed with Ella in the middle while the both of you knelt on the ground, hands around her and smiling towards the camera.

Harry smiled, thanking the man and taking your phone to see the photo. “It looks great.”

He showed you and Ella.

“Such a happy family, huh?” You smiled, carrying Ella in your arms.

Harry approached you, pressing a kiss against sleepy Ella’s forehead and wrapped his arms around you, a genuine and satisfied smile on his face. “The happiest.”

anonymous asked:

Andreil 2

2. “You’re too young to hate the world.”

Neil wasn’t particularly keen on doing talk shows, even though he wasn’t in hiding anymore, and even though Riko was no longer in the picture to make unexpected appearances and ruin everything. There are just some things that one never quite grows accustomed to, and putting on a friendly facade for the media is one of the things Neil knows he will never, ever get the hang of.

The whole lineup of the Foxes had been invited to TV shows all over the country to be interviewed after their historic defeat of the Ravens, and while Wymack got them out of most of them, there were some offers that he couldn’t back out of. Which is why on one particular Wednesday, the Foxes piled onto the bus to head to an afternoon interview with one of the most popular afternoon talk-show hosts in the Exy world.

“Now listen up you rascals,” Wymack hollered from the front of the bus once they had started moving, “don’t you even think about fucking around on this interview. If we want to boost our public image and show that we’re honorable athletes and competitors, be on your best behavior. Dan, you do most of the talking if you can help it. Kevin and Matt, you two back her up. Neil, I swear to god, if you even look like you’re going to be snide I will have you off that stage in three seconds flat.”

Neil, seated in the very back with Andrew at his side, nodded. He thought he could manage to keep quiet for a 20-minute segment, especially if there were eight other people up there with him.

He was wrong.

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Sundays with Spideypool #4

Check out Sundays with Spideypool here!


For @well-youknowhowitis prompt:

Wade is around the avengers for some reason (maybe Peter got hurt or sick and he lives at the tower or something) and like the avengers are SHOCKED by how much Deadpool actually knows about Spidey. Maybe they’re like trying to help Peter and DP is like “no you’re doing that wrong that’s not how it likes it move-” and just kinda totally takes over (bonus if they aren’t dating yet)

This is a little different from your prompt, I hope you still like it!

(I made this Andrew Garfield as Spidey because of Deadpools interest in him)


“So I was thinking–” Tony tapped at his lip thoughtfully. “I was thinking black here.” He made a sweeping motion with his hand and the hologram in front of him changed colors. “And maybe a darker red? Some bolder lines down the side, maybe.”

“Oh I like that idea.” Natasha nodded and Clint grunted in agreement. “He isn’t a kid anymore, and all of our uniforms have gotten this darker look to them.”

“It will certainly look less like he is wearing pajamas.” Steve added. “I think he will enjoy blending in more with the team instead of looking so obviously like he doesn’t belong.” He kissed Tony lightly on the cheek. “It’s great you are trying to design a new suit for him, babe.”

“Yeah well.” Tony was still staring at the hologram, snacking on chips absentmindedly. “He tore his other one, and I have been meaning to design something sturdier but–”

“That’s wrong, don’t do that.” a voice cut in from the doorway and Clint looked up from his sandwich in annoyance.

“Deadpool. Who invited you?”

“The big Iron Man himself.” Wade sauntered through the door to the lab, covered head to toe in full Deadpool uniform, complete with his katanas on his back. “So maybe cool it, Robin Hood.”

“Tony.” Clint sent Tony an imploring look, but Tony just shrugged.

“I did invite him, guys. If I’m designing new gear for the team, he deserves some too.”

“You have more patience than me.” Steve muttered and kissed Tony one more time before retreating back a few feet to give Deadpool some more room.  He didn’t trust the man at all, but Tony did for some reason, and even more surprising, apparently Peter had taken quite a shine to the mercenary.

Steve did not approve of that at all, and if Peter would have been under eighteen he would have absolutely put his foot down about it. He and Tony weren’t technically Peter’s parents, but the kid had lived at the tower since he was seventeen, and even though everyone knew Peter was joking when he called them Pop and Dad… well Steve still took it to heart.

And the thought of his boy wanting to hang around Wade Wilson was enough to make him see red.

But Tony told him to play nice, so that’s what he did– by folding his arms and glaring daggers in the back of Wade’s head.

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2017′s “It” Understands the Key to Good Horror

If you follow me for my reviews, then you know that I tend to specialize in animated films, usually family affairs. It often shocks people, then, that I’m actually a fan of horror too. There is something particularly enthralling about a good horror film. The problem is, it’s hard to find good horror! However, once the teaser dropped for the new It, my fancy was immediately tickled.

I watched the mini-series in junior high, and growing up I realized that it had a lot of problems. For sure, Tim Curry as Pennywise stuck in my memory, but on the whole it fell flat. In an age of remakes that most find unnecessary, It actually needed a remake to help fix the problems it had. Now that director Andy Muschietti has had his turn with the story, let’s see how he did.

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Dreams & Fears

Type: One-shot

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Warnings: Swearing and death 

“Come on boy!” You patted the spot beside you and Dodger jumped onto the couch and snuggled up against you.  You took a sip of your drink before turning on the TV.  

“And we’ll be right back after this commercial with the one, the only, Captain America!” Ellen exclaimed before the commercials started to play.

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