watching this for the millionth time

anonymous asked:

I don't know if there's a format you'd prefer or something by could I request #23 with Klance for the sentence prompts? Please and thank you! X3

(originally going to be fluffy but, today’s Earth Day and I wanted some langst so, i present to you, Angsty-Lance-Mourning-His-Family’s-Loss-And-How-He-Misses-Earth.  Thank you.)

(listen to this song)

Keith didn’t want anything to do with anyone today.  It was going to be a very chill day where he would train, then swim, and then sleep till he was dead.  It seemed like a great plan.

Until Lance.

Keith and Lance’s rooms were right next to each other on the ship and to be honest, the walls were a lot thinner than Keith would’ve asked for.  Keith could hear when Lance snored in the night, when he was watching Moana for the millionth time, when he was looking at memes, or when he was rambling to himself.

Keith heard a lot of stuff from Lance’s room.  He knew that Lance couldn’t help but have self-esteem issues but, Keith didn’t care.  Not at first.  But, recently, Keith realised there was only one time that Lance ever shut up and left his room quiet.  That was when he was upset or crying.

Lance was a silent crier, everyone knew that.  So, when his room got quiet, Keith knew something was up.  Today, it was different.  It was so quiet in Lance’s room, it was haunting.

The red paladin decided to check it out, what’s the worst that could happen?  He knocked on Lance’s door quietly, listening inside carefully.  Soft sobs and the sound of…  A movie?  He opened the door and glanced inside to see a lump on his bed, shaking and sobbing, a small ray of light coming from behind the blanket.  

In the darkness, Keith closed the door and tiptoed over to the shuddering blob.  A gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder and the blue paladin sniffed loudly, pausing a video clip he was watching on his phone.


Lance didn’t turn over.  “What’s up, buddy,” he replied, voice choked and broken.  “Need anything?”  It broke Keith’s heart.

He sat on the edge of the bed beside Lance, tugging at the blanket while also rolling Lance over.

The blue paladin laid in the bed, looking up at Keith.  In the darkness, Keith could tell his eyes were bloodshot, tears still streaming down his cheeks, his voice ragged and shallow.  Lance let out a shaky sigh and tried to turn back around.  “Leave me alone, Keith.”

What the Cuban didn’t expect was Keith to pull Lance into a sitting position and just hug him.  Now, Keith was never good at all this comforting stuff, he never needed to use it but, when the time came to be, he somehow always knew what to do.

Lance sobbed and hugged Keith back and eventually, Keith ended up curled up under the blanket with Lance, arms around him, Lance showing him some home videos he had.

“Today’s Earth Day,” he explained.  “Every year since my sister was born, my family would plant a tree in our backyard.”  He pointed out thirty trees in the back yard of his house.  They continued to watch Lance as a small seven year old, running and laughing, four of his teeth missing from his toothy grin.

One video showed Lance a girl, who kissed his cheek.  They were only little but, Lance kissed her cheek back.  “Imma marry you, Kenzie,” Lance exclaimed.

“Who was that,” Keith questioned, feeling a bit of jealousy pooling in his gut.  Lance laughed and tugged Keith closer.

“Only my cousin, cariño.”

“Oh… your cousin…”  Keith flushed in embarrassment but also the fact that Lance’s side was pressed against his and they were basically cuddling.

“Tell me about Earth,” Keith said later after all the videos.  They just laid in the bed and watched the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling.  “Like, where you lived?  Did you guys have grass?  Or go to the ocean?”

Lance nodded and smiled a sad smile.  “We had a nice big lawn that was really green, it was really pretty and soft.  My dad always brought us to the ocean and we swam for hours until we were basically sand and salt.”


“I’ll show you one day…”  Another silent pause.  “Thank you, Keith.  For everything.”  Lance kissed Keith’s temple and suddenly, the red paladin wasn’t embarrassed.  In fact, he just cuddled up closer.


Guess who watched Saloonatics for the twenty-millionth time?

My hand slipped

EDIT: I apologize for the misspelling of “descansco” (I wrote “descano”) in the 5th drawing! I was so tired when I drew these and careless mistakes were made. It’s too late to fix on the actual drawing, but I’ll do my best to fix my mistake here in the captions.

 Sorry, guys, and thank you for calling attention to my error! :P

no offense but i really need more rp partners who are my friends like..  dont get me wrong i love all ships nd stuff but its always better when you’re friends with the person anD I want a friend who i can join rps with and have multiple ships with and be clingy w/ and try out new rp things with (for instance fl/rp or indies) and !! i just want a rp partner i can send memes (actual memes , not ask memes but ask memes are great too) to and just become close w/ and have the best greatest ships and i’m rambling but i want a tumblr friend who i can spam w/ stuff about our muses ( or smth ) or just spam w/ anything !! like !! i just want friends where we can play lame games 2gether and watch movies and have a hella emotional and cute plot at the same time i and i want ships where i can send ask memes !! and make moodboards nd cute playlists and other stuff and we can have tons of cute ships and- ,,, wow okay , i got carried away so my grammar in this post is bad but .. come b my friend or ,, just plot idc

littlenerdbigheart117  asked:

Hey Robin, I was just watching the PAX Anti video (for the millionth time) and I can't tell, right when the video of Jack cuts out and there's a glitchy montage, are they all videos Jack's made AFTER "Say Goodbye"? I can see that as like Anti showing that its been HIM doing all the videos since Halloween and I just LOVE IT!!!! YOU'RE AWESOME MAN!!!!! THANK YOU FOR SHARING YOUR AMAZING SKILLS!!!!!!!


Guilty Kiss

( The reader teases Peter a little too much, and things get out of hand. )

A/N: My love for Peter Parker ( and Tom Holland ) knows no bounds. And I’m still sobbing over Tom Holland. TBH if I had a boyfriend like Peter, I would tease him every moment I get. Except that I’m usually the flustered shy one. Requests are open, BTW, so send them in!  

Taglist: @mainspidey | @x-wing-starwriter | @tomsleftbrow | @tryn25 

“Where is my evac, Clint?” Your voice is tinged with irritation as you switch on your comm-link. Breathe, (Y/n). Don’t yell. “Clint? Please tell me that you aren’t sleeping on the job.”

Your heels click against the tiled floor of a long, narrow passage. You’ve disabled the two guards stationed at the entrance of the archives before they could raise the alarm but there’s no telling how long it would take before someone competent realizes what’s going on.

“I’m here, I’m here. Sheesh, can’t a guy step out to get a cup of coffee for one second –”

Somewhere in the distance, an alarm erupts, screeching through the airways. Dang it. The patrol must have found the bodies.

“Not when I’m in blind in a Hydra facility. So help me, Clint –”

“Alright, alright, no need to get huffy with me. Besides, Spidey’s got your back.”

A smile flits across your face at the mention of Peter. The awkward, adorable boy is easy to be with, and is even easier to love, and you like him. A lot. You’re sure that Clint can hear the smile in your voice when you say, “He’s securing the perimeter. So no.”

“I’m in Wing C. I think.” Ripping the emergency map off the wall, you consider the corridors and say, “Yeah, definitely Wing C. Files are with me.”

“Nice job, kid. Get to the roof, and I’ll pick the two of you up from there.”

The affectionate nickname sends a wave of warmth crashing over you, and your smile widens. “Sure. See you in ten.”

“Peter, you there?” Turning off your comm-link, you pull your phone out of your pocket, dialling his number by heart. You hope he’ll pick up. “It’s me.”

He does. Peter’s voice sounds as though he’s holding his phone at arm’s length. He’s put you on speaker too; you can hear muffled screams and thumps on Peter’s end, but none of them sound like him. In fact, it sounds as though he’s having fun.

“Spider 1 to Agent 1. Copy. Over.”

You make a mental note to never, ever let Peter watch anymore James Bond movies. His “spy lingo” is downright atrocious.

And for the millionth time since the two of you had started dating, you start to laugh. “You have seriously been watching too many spy movies. Is the perimeter secure?”

“Hey, you watched them all with me! Over.”

He’s avoiding the question, you realize, and your smile falters the tiniest bit. “Peter?”

“Um.” His voice is sheepish as it floats over the speakers. “Um, yeah, it’s secure. More or less. Over.”

“What’s less?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose and bracing for bad news.

“Less as in one of the guards may have called for backup before I could stop him. So prepare for incoming. Over.”

“Thanks, Spider 1,” You drawl out sarcastically, your voice rising above a symphony of rapidly approaching footsteps. As yet unnoticed, you duck behind a now abandoned security desk, keeping your voice hushed. “Now could you please get over to Wing C? Our ride’s waiting.”

“Copy that. Spider 1, out. Over.”

There’s a loud commotion. A group of men whisk past you. Six go down the hall you’d come from, and one mutters, “We aren’t paid enough for this.” Some enter the elevators. They’re all dressed haphazardly, as if they’ve been roused from sleep and had had to hurry. There must be a facility close by. Like army barracks, maybe. You’d have to be careful to avoid it.

You gaze longingly at the doors to the stairwell leading to the roof.

Two men stay behind and assume their positions, forcing you to inch your way around the desk to continue to hide your presence. You sit for a moment, trying to decide on your next move.

There’s only one thing to do, really.

Crawling to the end of the desk, you peek out around the edge, noting the exact positions of the guards. Yanking your ICER ( ‘Incapacitating Cartridge Emitting Raygun’ ) out of your thigh sheath, you cock your weapon and fire. Sticky pellets containing 50,000 volts find their way into bare skin. Their bodies perform involuntary twitching dances; they’re unconscious by the time they hit the ground.

Your heels click as you stride forwards, picking your way over motionless arms and legs. The door to the stairwell flies open, a black-clad figure appears in the doorway. Oh, well. Too late to hide now. Shrugging, you walk closer, but no one else comes to stop you. Fixing a pleasant smile onto cherry red lips, you ready your ICER.

“Hey, baby,” The mook leers, eyes lingering far too long on your chest and legs for your liking. “Did you come here to play?”

Gross. Your smile slips. You’ve just taken out two of his underlings, and that’s the best he can come up with? Forget the ICER; you’re going to enjoy beating this guy up. You aren’t going to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you tuck your ICER back into your thigh sheath and shift into a defensive position.

“That’s funny, babe. Where did you learn that? On TV?”

Okay. One response. A stinging anticipation winds through you as you stalk forwards. “Why don’t you come over here and find out?”

When he makes his next move – a punch that practically oozes contempt and confidence – you’re ready. You duck, avoiding impact, and he swipes air. You deliver a vicious kick, buckling his knees. As he goes down with a yelp of pain, you elbow him in the back of the head. Yeah. Forget honour. You’ll go with dirty.

He attempts to rise. You waste no time in leaping onto him, planting yourself on his neck and pinning his shoulders to the floor. As far as most deaths go, this one isn’t all together unpleasant; at least this creep is being suffocated by the thighs of a girl, which is more than he deserves.

“My name is not babe. I’m (F/n) (L/n), and I am this close to crushing your misogynistic skull with my thighs.”

His face is turning a funny shade of puce. You let him suffer for a few more seconds before you pull out your ICER and stun him.

“Holy shit.”

Peter’s soft, awe-filled whisper catches you completely off guard. From your place atop of the Hydra mook, his face still crushed between your thighs, you offer Peter a wicked grin, which makes his heart stutter in his chest. He gulps audibly, a gesture which does not go unnoticed by you.

Relax, Peter,” You purr, looking up at him from under thickly dusted lashes. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to see you crush him with your thighs,” Peter manages, his gaze ping-ponging from the mook unconscious on the floor to your unconventional seat, your face radiant and flushed and pretty. “I don’t know why I rushed over.”

“Because you love me?” Batting your eyelashes, you smile a sweet, sweet smile, looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. “And your life would have a noted lack of (Y/n) if I wasn’t around?”

Much to your surprise, Peter actually nods. You can’t see his face under his mask, but you know Peter’s smiling over the blush that paints his cheeks. Huffing out a laugh, you release the male from your clutches, straightening your skirt and thigh highs. Unlike Agent Romanoff, who prefers skin-tight spandex during combat, you’re particularly fond of skirts, which allow for ease of movement.

That, and it’s easier to take down people when they’re busy ogling your bare legs.

Peter’s trying not to stare. The operative word being ‘trying’. He’s manfully covered the eye-holes of his mask, but his fingers are splayed too widely for them to truly be effective at blocking your figure out.

You keep a neutral, pleasant smile on your lips as you stand, the one that Peter hates because he can’t tell what you’re hiding. An idea is forming in your head, the gears in your mind turning. You feel a bit mean for what you’re about to do, but the desire to see Peter squirm wins out.

Slowly, deliberately, you hitch your skirt up so that it settles high up on your hips, revealing the wide gap of skin between your stockings and your skirt. Your tongue darts out to swipe across glossy lips as you walk over to Peter, swaying your hips strictly more than necessary.

You’re rewarded with a strangled squeak. He’s given up his charade of “a little peeking”, and is unabashedly staring at every shimmy and shake of your hips. You’re sure Peter knows exactly what you’re playing at, but he doesn’t have it in him to tell you to stop, it seems.

Peter’s stammered protests are swallowed up when you push up his mask to press a kiss to his lips. It starts slow at first, but soon speeds up into something wild. His hands settle on your hips while yours try to tug his shirt off – only to remember that he’s in spandex, not cotton. You groan in frustration, Peter hastily untangles himself from you and hastily backs away.

(Y/n)!” Peter sounds scandalized as he tries to protest again, his voice dazed and accusatory all at the same time – although he doesn’t sound all that mad that you’d technically seduced him into an impromptu make-out session in a Hydra base. “We’re still – We can’t!”

“I know, I know,” You say on a laugh, giving him a last, quick peck on the mouth before Peter tugs his mask back into place, hiding cheeks tinted pink. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t resist.”

Dropping your voice into a conspiratorial whisper, “I’ll take care of your, ah, problem later at home, okay?”

You dance off down the hallway with a laugh, your skirt still hitched up high, swishing around your thighs as you go. Peter groans from behind you, and you wave cheerily at him over your shoulder.

You can’t wait to get back home.

  • What she says: I'm fine.
  • What she means: if Dennis leaves how will the gang play chardee macdennis? Will it be renamed chardee macfrank? Who will be on Dee's team? How far into the game will they realize it's not the same and give up? Or will Mac and Charlie win for the first time ever but Mac feels absolutely nothing because what's the point of winning without Dennis? He'd rather lose and watch Dennis smile that genuinely happy smile as he crushes their pieces for the millionth time.

And Danny’s fighting tears and anxious and excited–and, of course, he’s worried about how his monkey will react; about him getting married for a second time, about it all; meanwhile, Gracie is fidgety and nervous as she watches her dad and Steve, not sure where this convo is going as it begins. A lump forms in her throat, but her stomach doesn’t drop. Because Danno is making his crumbly sensitive dad expressions that make her heart swell and Steve’s looking at him like he’s everything and saying the words until it’s Danno that drops the final line. We’re getting married.

There’s nothing that could keep her thrilled shriek and exclamations back as Grace launches herself at them, clumsily grasping both in a hug at the same time before she zeros in on Danny, works on soothing him. At that point, oh, he’s definitely crying a bit, primarily from happiness and love, yet also a measure of relief. (And he wonders to himself, for the millionth time, what the hell was there to be worried about. She loves them. She knows they love each other. She wants them to be happy. And look–there are no “but”s of any kind. *Zilch.*

Steve receives extra tight hugs from each, though only after he watches the father and daughter clutching each other, one crying Williams setting off the other, attempting to stave off the stinging in his own eyes as Grace admonishes Danny - her voice quavering - for being scared. (Steve’s smile absolutely doesn’t wibble.) Not with her, with them, with this anyways–and ohmygodholyshit–YOUGUYSAREGETTINGMARRIED!

Language. Steven, tissues, please. And Steve might have very well foreseen the waterworks, because he doesn’t get up, instead pulling out a packet of tissues from his back pocket, earning a red-eyed squint from his future husband, slyly wiping one of his eyes with his sleeve when he thinks the duo aren’t looking.

My Sweetheart

REQUEST: ohh my god i fell in love with your last imagine where harry proposes! i just wanted to ask if you could write a very fluffy imagine with cuddles on couch while watching movies or idk, just soo much fluff?? i love youu

REQUEST: Hi! I am just a fan of your fics, I have read every single one of them and I am craving for more. Can you pretty please write a fluffy fluffmaster with a cuddly Harry? Thanks, and love youuu!

Combined these two. Inspiration struck tonight. Hope you enjoy. :) xo

When you opened your eyes that morning, you were shocked to find that Harry was still in bed with you.

For the past week or so he’d been so busy that he had to wake up at the most ungodly hour of the morning. Every time his alarm would go off way too early, and each time he would shut it off with a groan only to roll over and slip his arms around your body, hugging you to his chest and tangling his legs with yours so he could cling to you like a koala. You grumbled and groaned and pretended to be more asleep than you were, but you secretly enjoyed that the first thing he did was to reach for you. Eventually he would get up and get his day started, always leaving a kiss on your lips before slipping out the front door.

You and Harry had been dating for several months now; it had gotten to the point where you spent most nights (and days) at his place. You had your own drawer and everything. The both of you had gotten used to life together, and you missed him dearly when he was away, so the past week had been hard on the both of you. But you knew that he was doing something that was important to him, and you could never ask him to give that up in any capacity.

That morning when you woke up it was 10:00 a.m., and he was still there. It immediately brought a feeling of warmth to your heart, and you couldn’t help but get your hopes up and look forward to having him for the entire day. It felt like it had been so long since you’d truly spent time together, other than small chit chat and a kiss here and there. You missed him. 

Keep reading

EXO: Being Late To A Date and When He Arrives He Sees Someone Bothering You

(Fluff, fluff, and more fluff. Teeny tiny mention of what was somewhat violence.)

(I kind of assumed you wanted it to be they were meeting with their significant other *reader* and I hope I was right. Don’t be afraid to correct me (((: )



You sat on the swing solemnly, checking your phone for what seemed like the thousandth time in the last hour. Xiumin was supposed to meet you at the park an hour ago, and failed to show or even shoot you a text to tell you he would be running quite late. You had quickly chose to wait, knowing Xiumin wouldn’t just bail. It had gotten pretty dark out and it would be a lie to say you weren’t frustrated with him, completely tempted to blow up his phone until he decided to answer you.

A sigh of exasperation left your lips as you glanced up, seeing a guy in front of you; not the guy you were waiting for, but a guy nonetheless.

Keep reading

His Shirt

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader
Words:  1273

This is just a fluffy wedding night one shot that I wanted to write. 
Warning: There is mention of le smut, but it’s not really there, there.

A/N: If you want tagged in anything let me know.

          You were laughing as you watched your husband dancing with his buddies at your wedding. You couldn’t believe this day had finally come. You were now married to your best friend. You were the luckiest woman alive.

           Chris looked over and caught your eyes, immediately making his way over to where you were watching him, “Come on, Beautiful,” he held his hand out to you.

           “You’re dancing with the guys,” you said.

           “I want to dance with my wife,” he insisted, pulling you to your feet.

           “I love that,” you smiled as he pulled you into his arms, against his solid chest.

           “That you’re my wife?” he grinned, kissing you.

           You nodded, “I can’t believe today actually happened.”

           “Well, believe it, Baby,” he smiled, twirling the two of you around, “Today is the first day of the rest of our lives.”

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Preference: You Can't Sleep

Ashton: Hearing footsteps softly coming towards the kitchen, you sigh. You hadn’t meant to wake him up, really. A very sleepy looking Ashton leans against the kitchen doorframe, frowning when he sees you. “Can’t sleep again?” He asks, yawning a little. “Go back to bed, I’ll be okay.” He shakes his head. “Baby, you need to see a doctor or something. This is like, the fourth night you’ve had trouble sleeping.” He pauses, then his eyes widen. “Is it… is it me?” He asks. “What? No, Ash, it’s not you. I just can’t fall asleep.” You assure him, walking over. He pulls you into a light hug, resting his forehead against your own. “Then what? Tell me, so I can help.” You sigh. “There’s honestly nothing wrong.” You say. Ashton walks over and starts to make coffee. “What are you doing?” You ask. “If you can’t sleep, I’ll stay awake with you until you can.” You smile a little. “Ashton, go back to bed. You’re tired.” Ashton frowns again. “Yeah, but I can’t sleep if you’re not there. The bed gets cold.” He says. You walk over and wrap your arms around him. “How about we just go cuddle?” He thinks about this for a moment, then shakes his head. “How about we go watch movies and cuddle until you fall asleep?” You sigh, feeling blessed to have such a man in your life. “I’m sorry, I know this is getting annoying.” Ashton takes his face in your hands. “Baby, no! It’s not annoying. It’s just more time I get to spend with you.” He murmurs, kissing your nose. “Yeah, but less time you get to sleep.” Ashton shrugs, pulling you into the living room while asking, “who needs sleep, anyway?”

Calum: You roll over for what seems like the millionth time. Calum sighs, sitting up. “Babe, what’s wrong?” He asks. You sit up and turn on the bedside lamp. “I don’t know. I just can’t sleep.” He frowns, moving some hair away from your face. “Want me to sing to you?” He asks. You nod, curling into his side as he sings a soft tune. “Anything?” He asks when the song is over. You groan and shake your head. “You should go back to sleep. You need it.” You tell him, biting your lip. “I’m not going to sleep when my girl isn’t.” He says stubbornly, but a yawn slips out. You smirk and he chuckles. “Okay, I’m tired. So what?” You roll your eyes. “So, I’m not going to be like Michael and force you to stay awake. Sleep, babe.” You say, reaching over to turn out the light. “Is there anything that’s bothering you? Maybe you just need to talk about it.” Calum says, pulling you into a spooning position. “No, not that I can think of. You’re home, the boys are home. Everything is perfect.” Calum runs his fingertips over your stomach lightly, making you shiver. “What about the hate? Have you been reading it lately?” You shake your head. “Not since the last time you told me not to.” Calum frowns, not being able to figure out what’s wrong with the love of his life. Then it hits him. “Babe?” He asks. “Yes, Cal?” You reply. “When is the last time we… you know?” He asks, chuckling. You roll over onto your back. “It’s been awhile, I guess. Why?” You ask, watching as he gets up and walks to the end of the bed. He grabs your ankles and pulls you until your cute plaid pajama shorts meet his eyes up close. “Calum, what are you doing? The boys are downstairs sleeping. They could hear us.” You protest, but he yanks off your shorts and underwear. “I don’t give a fuck who hears. I’m taking the edge off so my baby girl can sleep. I’m going to fuck you so good until you’re too tired to fuck anymore.”

Luke: Staying in multiple hotel rooms had its benefits, but it also had its problems. Problem number one being that eventually, they all just began to feel like home. So when you and Luke actually did come home from tour, sleeping in your own bed was very difficult for you. Even with Luke by your side every night, the bed just didn’t feel like home anymore. And this night was no different. You get out of bed and walk to the bathroom, hoping you won’t wake Luke up. You splash water on your face, and when you look up, Luke is standing behind you. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.” You mumble, turning to face him. “You know, splashing water on your face is just going to make falling asleep harder.” Luke tells you. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. This bed used to be my everything, second to you. And now I can’t even sleep on it.” You complain, crossing the short distance between the two of you and hugging him. “Princess, nothing’s wrong with you. You’ve just been staying in so many hotels that you forgot what your own bed feels like. C'mon, I’ll help you.” Luke pulls you back into bed and pulls you into his side, holding you close. “You know what I really want right now?” You ask. “What’s that, princess?” You look up at him. “That bed on that hotel room we stayed at in Italy. The one that had the purple pillows? Oh, I loved that bed.” You say softly. “That bed had some pretty nice things happen on it.” Luke mutters, smirking as he remembers the night involving whipped cream and strawberries. You giggle. He rubs your back lightly until you fall asleep, but that doesn’t happen for another few hours. The next day, when you come back from visiting friends, the bed from the hotel room in Italy is in your bedroom.

Michael: While Michael has been known to have some insomnia, you did not. You could sleep all day, every day. Or at least, you used to be able to sleep all day, every day. For some reason, that all changed one night. You just couldn’t fall asleep. You tried sleeping in bed and on the living room couch, but nothing helped. And unfortunately, Michael had cured his insomnia when the band went on a break. Well, that’s not unfortunate. That’s a great thing. But for you, it was unfortunate because that meant while he was asleep, you were wide awake. The roles had been reversed. You look over at your sleeping boyfriend, hearing his light snores fill the silence of your bedroom. You bite your lip and tap his cheek lightly. “Mike, wake up.” After repeating this a few times, the bleached blonde’s eyes flutter open. “What? What’s the matter, kitten?” He asks urgently. “Nothing. I just… I can’t fall asleep.” He props himself up with his hand. “Wanna talk about anything that bothered you today?” He asks. “See, that’s the thing. It isn’t just tonight. I haven’t been sleeping for weeks.” You confess. “Kitten, why didn’t you tell me?” He reaches over and strokes your cheek gently. “You were sleeping great. I didn’t want to ruin that.” Michael frowns. “You wouldn’t have ruined it. But you should have told me, I could’ve helped sooner.” He says. You nod. He sings to you softly for a few hours until your asleep. The next morning, Michael goes to the store and buys everything that’s related to helping a person sleep better just for you.

|| Attention, Attention ||

{summary: just a lazy night spent with you and your needy boyfriend.}

dedicated to @rvnclawss for giving me the bolded quote as a prompt [♥]

here’s something short and sweet for the bae peter p. later i’m gonna immerse myself in these new books that i bought from my bookstore ;w; i’m so excited to start reading it [♥]

warnings: none

permanent tags: @psychicwitchphilosopher , @pharaohkiller , @moonlight53

peter parker only: @wavy-ley , @buckysendoftheline , @1022bridgetp , @potterjamesharry

warnings: none

**please don’t plagiarize/repost this story. reblogs are fine


After a long day spent at school, you were glad that you were finally able to unwind with a new book as you surrounded yourself with your pillows and blankets. Propping yourself up against the headboard, you open your book to its first page and immerse yourself with the beginning of your story.

Keep reading

Thunderstorms: End

You expect to see him during the next storm. You’re surprised that you’ve beat him out there this time, you brought your own bundle of blankets and a couple pillows. You’re exhausted, you usually loved watching the storms but tonight you just wanted to sleep. Being out on missions usually knocked you out and you’d been surprised to have been woken from the storm.
Maybe it was just because you wanted to see Loki.
You lay down with a huff and after curling into a small ball, face toward the window, you hear his soft footfalls.
“I didn’t think you’d wake tonight little one.”
“Me either.” You say looking up at him from your spot on the floor. He shoves his hair out of his face and for the millionth time you long to run your fingers through it. You sit up as he sits down and as you look at him you bite your lip.
“What is it little one?” He asks quirking an eyebrow at you.
“Can, can I braid your hair?” You stammer looking away from him as you ask.
“Your hair, can I braid it?”
“Yes.” You look up sharply at his reply to see him smirking.
“Yes.” You practically drag him down to the ground next to you causing a surprised laugh to pass his lips. “I’ve been dying to braid your hair.” You tell him, gently pulling his hair into three chunks. You weave them together making one small dark braid. You tie it off with a hair binder that’s far too big for the amount of hair that he has.
“Was it as satisfying as you thought it would be?” He asks his fingers gliding over his now braided hair.
“It was.” You tell him before flopping back down onto your pillow.
“Are you planning on sleeping out here little one?”
“Wouldn’t the couch be more comfortable?”
“Probably.” His hand trails along your arm before he rests it on your shoulder. “Loki?”
“Why do we only talk when it storms?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s fix that okay?” You mumble your eyes closed.
“Okay.” You hear him agree softly as you drift off to sleep.
“Oh my god they’re so cute.” You hear Natasha whisper.
“Did you know they were together?” You hear Clint ask, he’s not quiet.
“Fuck off Barton.” You grumble causing Natasha to chuckle. You sit up and she shoves a cup into your hand. Loki groans softly as he too sits up.
“I should have moved us to the couch little one.” He groans.
“Oooh, little one?” Clint teases and the look Loki shoots him could kill, no ice powers necessary.
“Again, fuck off Barton.” Both he and Natasha laugh and he kisses her cheek before heading toward the kitchen. Loki sits up then and stretches his fingers sliding over the braid in his hair before he smiles at you softly.
“Did you braid his hair?” Nat asks in surprise.
“I did.” She looks surprised then gives a little half shrug and follows Clint out of the room.
“Did you sleep alright little one?”
“I did. You?”
“Oh yes.” He says with a grin, “And look, there’s no storm and we’re talking.”
“Miracles do happen.” You day and he laughs before nodding.
“They certainly do.”

Bad Timing

Summary: April Fools is the day of household wars. Pranks and jokes are played, except for when a little someone comes along. (Unedited because I’m trash)

Word Count: 664, drabble length

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of child birth, swearing, pranks, I think that’s it

A/N: I’m trying to keep up with the schedule but I can’t! I need to prove it to myself that I can keep writing schedules. There is another one coming out today for last week’s absence. My apologies for last week, I am terrible at this stuff.

Originally posted by everyhtingslove

Originally posted by e-dna-e-mod-e

Today marked your 32nd week pregnant, the final weeks of carrying your precious child. Today was also the team’s favorite day, April Fools. Though they had made a promise to not hurt you or the baby, so you would be left alone through the day.

However, you did get to witness the shenanigans of them all. The first one was rude and quite frankly down right scary. Bucky faked being in the Winter Solider

mode, makeup and all.

That resulted in you being forced into a Hulk Proof room until Bucky finally revealed that it was a prank.  After you came out of the room, you promptly punched your fiancé in the shoulder.

As the day continued, the day got even more funny. Thor placed his hammer in the fridge handles, keeping it shut for an hour or so. Nat and Steve hid behind everything and scared the living daylights out of everyone.

Sam teamed up with Wanda and Vision putting temporary hair dye in shampoo, spiking the milk with rum, locking the doors to bedrooms. The best prank had to be when Pepper gathered everyone for dinner and blurted out that she was pregnant.

The prank was, she wasn’t lying. Wanda and Vision both confirmed it right then and there. The look on Tony’s face was priceless. Dinner was when everyone called truce and swore on whatever they saw fit that they wouldn’t pull a prank.

The dinner was simple, chicken and steamed vegetables. Small chatting quickly filled the room as everyone devoured the meal. It was filled with ‘how’d you do this prank’ or ‘was it you who did this’.

You glanced around the table. Steve was subject to a glittery purple mess of hair, Tony and Pepper were talking about baby names, Wanda and Vision were quietly planning out their next prank. Everything was perfect.

After dinner, the day’s war waged on. Chicken bullion cubes in the shower heads, changed WiFi password, and caramel covered onions disguised as apples.

It was perfect for you to watch as the team fought each other. It was nice to see everyone blow off pent up steam in a semi friendly manner. As the night danced into the tower, the amount of pranks dwindled to nothing.

The team had relaxed in the theater room, watching some random movie Sam and Steve wanted to watch. You sat with the love of your life while he rubbed your swollen belly.

“You know, in just a few weeks, we’re going to have a munchkin in our arms.” Bucky whishpers softly.

“I want it to happen sooner. I want to meet our little girl.” You sigh, dragging your hand across your belly for the millionth time.

“How do you know it’s a girl?” You had decided that you wanted to find out the gender when they were born, so neither of you knew what was in there.

“I don’t know, I just feel it in my bones. Evangeline Lucille Barnes is in there and I know it.” You kiss his cheek as Bucky sighs. “I’ll be back.”

You get up and walk as fast as you can to the bathroom. There was something off, you knew it. It was only until the first contraction hit. You were going into labor.

You screamed for Bucky, pain taking over your senses. Stumbling out of the bathroom, you were met with Steve and Bucky catching you as you fell.

The concerned look on everyone’s face came after it stopped. You could stand with help. “The baby is coming,” that was all that could pass through your lips before the second contraction hit.

After sixteen hours of labor, you gave birth to an almost dead son. He was eight weeks early, weighing in at 4 pounds and 6 ounces. After he was presented to you, he was rushed to the NICU.

Bucky sat next to you, holding your hand. “We have to do the birth certificate, Y/N.”

“Sebastian Evan Barnes.”

“It’s wonderful, doll.”