Biggest Plot Hole Ever

i get what dads r talking abt when they say theyre “just resting their eyes” this shit is awesome

I hate Crocs.

fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him

at this point if no Sam cameo in Thunderbolts I am jumping outta the window

sweet

peter parker x reader

summary: two times that peter parker is the sweetest boyfriend

“Y/N!” Peter hisses, knocking his knee into yours under the desk. 

“What?” you whisper, not peeling your attention away from the board as you furiously copy down the notes. 

“I’m bored.” he says sheepishly as you roll your eyes. 

“Why don’t you maybe, focus on the lesson?” you suggest. 

Peter groans dramatically and lays his head on top of his notebook. 

“I know it all already.” he shrugs, leaning over and digging through your pencil case. 

“Well we can’t all be geniuses,” you say as you flip the page and continue scribbling. “Some of us are gonna fail the test on radioactive substances if you don’t shut up and let me write.”

“I’m radioactive,” he rolls his eyes. “I’ll tutor you before the test.”

He settles on a red pen from your pencil case and twirls it between his fingers, clicking it on and off repeatedly. 

“Peter!” you mutter. “That is infuriating.”

“Sorry,” he grins at you, happy to have your attention for a moment, and sighing when you turn away, frowning at an especially lengthy paragraph in the textbook you and Peter were supposed to be sharing. 

He wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls it in front of him, turning your arm palm-up. You ignore him as you read, attempting to understand the subject. You feel a slight tickling sensation of your wrist accompanied by the pressure of Peter’s hands as he hooks his arm around yours to give himself better access to you. 

…emission of alpha particles, or conversion of neutrons to protons or the reverse… 

You sigh, pushing the book away from you with your free hand. It’s impossible to concentrate with the tickling sensation on your wrist.

“Peter,” you hiss one last time. “What are you doing?”

Peter freezes, blinking like a deer in the headlights when you tip your gaze to where he’s working on your wrist. Inked onto the skin just below your palm in red ballpoint pen is a tiny, slightly lopsided heart. Leaning closer, you can make out a little ‘P’ entwined with your own first initial. 

“Aw, Pete,” you whisper, quickly kissing his cheek ever so softly to avoid the glare of the teacher at the front. “It’s so sweet. You’re so sweet.”

Peter scrunches up his nose in response to your compliment, relishing the moment of attention from you he’d craved in a boring class. 

“No,” he begins sweetly. “You’re-” “Parker!” below the teacher. Peter’s ears turned red as the whole class turned to glare at him. “Are you taking notes or are you just distracting Miss Y/L/N?”

Peter shrinks away from you, picking up the red pen and pretending to make notes. 

You giggle, resuming your own work but not before nudging him underneath the table and pulling a face, earning yourself the sweetest grin from him. 

・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

7:25am. Friday. 

The incessant buzzing of your phone pulls you out of your dozing and you groan, picking it up blearily - only answering because you know exactly who’s calling. He calls at this time every school morning. 

“Good morning my love,” he says cheerily. You can hear the faint beeping and honking of early morning traffic from his end of the line, proof that he’s out on his morning patrol like usual. 

Your only reply is a sleepy ‘hhmf’ as you snuggle back into the duvet warding off the chilly New York morning. 

“It’s time to get up, baby.” Peter says right on cue. 

“But I’m so sleepy and cozy,” you protest. “I absolutely cannot get up for school.”

Peter chuckles, preparing himself for the sleepy argument you two have every morning when he calls to make sure you’re getting up. 

“If you don’t get up and come to school, I won’t get to see you today.” he points out and you can almost hear the playful pout on his face as he speaks softly, knowing you’re still half asleep. 

“You can come over after,” you say. “Imagine how chatty and cheerful I’ll be then when I’m fully rested.”

Peter shakes his head, resting on the rooftop of an apartment block. From his point of view he’s just across the street from your apartment and he can see your bedroom window, blinds still drawn to block out the morning rays. 

“If you get up and come to school today, I’ll take you to that do-it-yourself pottery place after. They don’t close until six on a Friday.” he bargains. 

You gasp. 

“Lots of Pots?” you ask. “Can we make mugs for each other again?”

Peter chuckles, already picturing adding the new addition to the collection of multi-colored mugs you’d made for him and May so far. 

“This is all conditional on you getting up, though.” he reminds you. 

“Alright, alright, I’m getting up,” you say as you kick the duvet off and make no move to stand up. 

“No, you’re not,” Peter sighs as your blind doesn’t lift. “Looks like I’m swinging over then,” he says as he pushes himself to his feet. “Be at your window in a second or I’m breaking in and tipping you out of bed.”

Peter calling you after morning patrol to make sure you’re getting up for school had become routine over the few months of your relationship, usually ending up with him coming over and pulling your pajama-clad body out of bed before he himself would get changed into the school clothes of his he kept in your closet and making sure you both got out the door in time. And he loved it. 

・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

please consider reblogging if you enjoyed, it really helps a writer out <3

i miss them (fictional character i think about literally every single day)

NO HE'S BACK 😣

YESSSS I NEEDED THIS— best val's day gift❣️

and harry is a great muse (that precious man) 😣

please you write beautiful, so I have to ask you to make a imagine of harry and the reader where she and he write together sweet nothing like taylor and joe, thanks 🥺

sweet nothing

something lovey dovey for valentine’s day, i love you <3

MY PATREON | MASTERLIST

Your relationship was still a secret to the world.

They knew about you and Harry working together for his album, Harry's House, but they didn't know about the feelings that sparkled between the two of you, the shared kisses and intimate moments. They didn't know about your sweet nothings.

Sitting by the piano, with your writing journal and pen in hand, you reflected about you and Harry, about how last July you escaped from the busy life and the spotlights, and went away to your cottage in Wicklow, where you spend every second together, falling more and more for each other. You thought about how one night as you stargazed, he told you that your eyes reminded him of the tiny fireflies he used to watch growing up, and how you both promised that whenever life got overwhelming you'd always find home in each other.

I spy with my little tired eye Tiny as a firefly A pebble that we picked up last July Down deep inside your pocket We almost forgot it Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes?

The words came to your mind smoothly as you scribbled them down in your journal, during the last few months, you've found out that writing about Harry was the easiest thing in the world.

You were in love, and your songs reflected it.

"Busy there?" his soft voice made you turn you head towards the door, he was leaning against the frame with a relaxed smile and a fond look on his eyes, you couldn't help but melt at the sight, everything about him radiated comfort.

"Just writing songs," you said as you made room for him next to you on the piano's bench, he kissed the side of your face tenderly once he sat next to you before speaking again, "Love songs about me?" his cheeky remark made you let out a breathy laugh, he was right.

"What makes you think you're any good of a muse, Styles?" you decided to tease him, even though he had been your only muse for the last few months, just as you have been his.

"Baby, I'm a great muse! Stevie Nicks said it herself!" his words made you laugh again and you moved your hands to brush away a loose curl from his forehead, taking the opportunity to press your lips to his for a moment. You could never get enough of the other, and you cherished these moments when it was just you and him wrapped up in your little love bubble.

"Remember that poem I wrote on our way home from Wicklow?" you said after a few minutes of silence, with your head against his shoulder, "I do, you never showed it to me tho." his voice was soft and quiet, as if he didn't want to break the tender ambiance around you.

On the way home I wrote a poem You say, "what a mind" This happens all the time

"It is about how I find safe heaven by your side whenever life gets hard" you let yourself be vulnerable, at the end of the day, Harry was the one who taught you that being vulnerable was part of being human.

And Harry could only look at you in pure love and adoration, he felt so lucky that he found someone so honest and real, someone he was willing to protect and take care of.

"You're my safe heaven too, baby. Nothing else matters if I get to come home to you and your sweet nothings" he confessed, every single one of his words touching every fiber of your heart.

You stayed like that for a while, your head against his shoulder and his hand softly caressing your back, scribbling lyrics on your journal and playing soft melodies in the piano. The world outside was full of pushing and shoving, but as long as you got each other you would be alright.

They said the end is comin' Everyone's up to somethin' I find myself runnin' home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're push and shovin' You're in the kitchen hummin' All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

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