Turtletaylor98 - To Marry George🎉 Or Run Away With Peter🕸?

PLEASSE PLEASE OHMIGOD-

IM CRYING?!?!?!

This..... Would be delicious

Okay wow 😍😍😍

helloooo angelface!! could i request a reader x george where george loves playing with her hair and she acts like it annoys her but really she likes it a lot but george only realises it doesnt bother her when maybe smth happens and shes upset and asks him to do it? idk if that made any sense but xx

studying // george weasley

masterlist!

a/n: ugh i love comforting george it makes me so soft. thank u for requesting!

summary: Exams are stressing you out, but George always seems to be there to help you relax.

(1.6k)

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Exams were rapidly approaching and your workload was getting a bit too heavy for you to carry.

You sat at the Great Hall, using the massive table space to study. You had so many papers, and none of the table in your common room could hold them all without some getting lost in a shuffle. You had a plate of food discarded to your right. You had woken up early, granted you had barely slept at all, and devoured your food, only so you could move onto your studies quicker. 

George stumbled into breakfast, his overgrown and disheveled hair falling into his eyes. He pushed it back, yawning. He crossed his arms, pulling the sleeves of his sweater over his hands and trying to trap some of his body heat. The weather outside was getting nicer, but it seemed like the stone castle walls were clinging to the cold weather.

He made his way over to you, furrowing his brows with a sympathetic look as his eyes began to blur just with a glance at your course load. He picked up a textbook that rested on the outskirts of the mountain you had created around you, and flipping through the pages, he immediately felt overwhelmed for you. He put down the textbook, and looked over to you. Your face was about five inches away from the paper you poured yourself into, and you bit your lip harshly.

He moved to stand behind you, gently tugging your shoulders back and into him. He felt the tenseness in your neck, and as you leaned into him, he felt you relax. You pressed the back of your head into his stomach, and let your quill fall from your hand. He moved his hands from your shoulders and into your hair, gently running his finger through it and raking his short nails over your scalp. You felt yourself dissolving, but not for long.

Your mind was plagued with the Potions essay in front of you, and you retracted from George’s grasp, your hair trailing from his fingers.

George wasn’t surprised, if anything he was surprised he had gotten you to relax for as long as you did (20 seconds). He loved playing with your hair, he loved the grin that you tried to suppress when he did it, and he loved the way your body seemed to fall at his mercy by such a small gesture. You never let him do it for long, feeling embarrassed by the reaction it elicited from you.

“Anything I can help you with?” George asked, but he already knew the answer. The only subject he could even compare to you in was Charms, and you had finished your revisions for that class a few days ago.

“Sadly,” you mumbled, still writing furiously, “I don’t think so. Go ahead and look around though.”

You made a sweeping gesture with your hand, motioning to the papers that lay around you.

“Why’re you down here so early?” George asked, settling into the table and filling his plate.

“I didn’t want to wake my dormmates,” you said, rolling up the Potions essay after you proofread it, “and I couldn’t sleep anyways.”

George moved a hand to your face, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. He smiled at the short lasting peaceful look on your face, but you turned your head away from him and reached across the table for your Arithmancy work.

“You could always sneak up to my dorm,” George said, shoveling some eggs in his mouth, “Fred and Lee don’t go in there to study.”

You chuckled at the idea of Fred, George, and Lee sitting around studying together.

“Maybe. Afraid you won’t be able to see your floor once I put all my papers down, though,” you said, flipping through a textbook and running a quick finger over the words.

“I wasn’t attached to it,” George replied, making you smile again.

You had learned to work through any distractions George presented while you studied, because having him around seemed to make you significantly less stressed. Just his tired and glazed over eyes made you feel comforted. His slow morning movements made you feel homely.

“Any plans for the day?” you asked him, knowing he wasn’t going to be working on his revisions.

“Fred said he had an order dispute he needed my help on,” George said, lifting his arms over his head to stretch. The bottom of his sweater rose, and in the corner of your eye you admired his toned stomach and the tuft of ginger hair that sprouted from his waistband. Your cheeks warmed, but you focused your eyes back to the confusing subject in front of you.

“Do you think you’ll be doing this all day?” George asked, lowering his arms and looking at the side of your face.

“I hope not,” you mumbled, and began to move your fingers through the piles, taking register of the work you had left, “I have a few hours worth of Arithmancy, but I think Hermione offered to help me with some of it, so it shouldn’t take that long. I just finished Potions, and I wanted to go over Transfiguration one last time.”

George sighed heavily, watching the work pile up as you grouped it together.

“Are you going to the library again?” 

“I think Hermione wanted to meet in the common room,” you said, setting your quill down for the rest of breakfast, “I could work in there for the rest of the day.”

“Like I said,” George smirked at you, “my bedroom’s always open.”

You rolled your eyes and bumped your shoulder into his. You rolled up your parchments, organizing them into neat stacks. You stuffed your textbooks into your bag and piled the papers on top. George helped you, rolling the last bits of parchment and handing them to you.

You finally breathed, setting your elbows on the table. You picked a piece of fruit from George’s plate, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“It’s almost over,” he said, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, “then it’s summer, and you can visit The Burrow.”

You nodded, closing your eyes and trying to pull memories from last year at George’s house. You tried to remember Molly’s cooking, the days in the garden with Ginny and Hermione, the nights you snuck into Fred and George’s room and talked all night.

These were just about the only things getting you through exams. 

Studying with Hermione went as well as it could. You had agreed to study with her because she usually had firms grasps on the subjects, but Arithmancy ended up taking longer because you had to explain a lot of it to her. Large bags formed under her eyes, and her already frizzy and uncontrollable hair was even more frizzy and uncontrollable. The time together sort of boosted your ego, really, giving you confidence in your knowledge about the subject. 

You had started Arithmancy when the sun had just risen, and by the time you closed your textbook, the sun was fading and an orange sunset floated through the tall windows of the Gryffindor common room. You paid little attention to Hermione sinking into the couch with her Charms textbook, and moved over to the window. Your Transfiguration textbook tucked under your arm, tabs and writings marked all over it, was long forgotten. Your face lit up in the glow of the sunset, and you imagined you were at the Burrow, watching the sun disappear over a grassy hill.

George came down the stairs, still in his pajamas he had eaten breakfast in, his hair just as messy. He had figured you were done with studying, and came to save you. He looked towards Hermione on the couch, but found you missing. A quick glance around the room and he found you by the window. The orange hue from the receding sun glowed in your face, and he watched you. Your eyes were closed, your chest slowly rising and falling. Your grip on your marked up textbook was so loose, he thought you might drop it. You rocked a little on your feet, and it looked like the slightest bit of wind could knock you over.

He came to your side, and at his hand reaching for your waist, your eyes slowly opened. He smiled down at you, taking the textbook from your hands and placing it on the table behind you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and breathed deep. 

“George?” you said to him in a hushed tone.

“Hm?” he hummed back to you.

“Would you play with my hair?” you asked, feeling no shame about the grin that would spread across your face.

His smile only widened, and he nodded his head enthusiastically. He brought his hands from your waist, setting each on the side of your face. The heels of his hands started near your eyes, and he ran his hands through your hair. Your head tilted back at the motion, and you let it roll with his hands. He grouped your hair like he was going to put it in a ponytail, using both hands, and lifted it from your neck. He twisted it, and then let it fall, watching as some of it landed in your face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his cold lips brushing against your forehead in a loving and chaste kiss.

“I love you, George,” you mumbled, resting your cheek against his strong chest.

He ran a hand soothingly over your head, brushing your hair down. The other pulled you tighter to him.

“I love you too, Y/n.”

Okay just, I’m in love with this.

“Technoybl”

disconnected || p.p

pairing: peter parker | reader

genre: college au | we know each other but we don’t know we know each other aka idiots to lovers | fluff!!

word count: 3k

note: i’m posting on mobile so i will add a ‘read more’ soon!!

— your reputation as a Technological Grandma™ precedes you, yet you’ve learned to live with it, mostly because it gives you the chance to talk to the sweetest guy working night shifts at the IT club on campus. well, talk to him on the phone. between mystery IT guy and the cute boy with the crooked nose from the bakery, you feel torn, but not for long.

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Reblog this if you don't think Harry Styles is a womanizer. I want to prove that we don't actually believe the media's perception of him and that we love this boy for the truly amazing person that he is.

This is so ridiculous

if you dont reblog you will never meet one direction

smile, darling: tom holland one-shot

a/n | was quite proud of myself for thinkin’ up this 1. also i’d like to get paid for taking pictures of tom please. screw the college degree. lengthy one shots are starting to become my staple huh

- anyway i’ve been feeling really burnt out lately so i’ll probably be taking a little writing break after this ♡

summary | tom holland is completely over paparazzi, tracking and exploiting his every move. that is, until he runs into one that he just can’t help but smile for.

cw | tom x paparazzi!fem!reader. language, alcohol use, a classic meet-cute, angst, relatively vanilla shower sex, fluff for days. 5.6k words.

pov: tom

The blinding flashes of old-fashioned bulb cameras were never a phenomenon easy to get used to.

He’d cast empty smiles, try to drown out the noise of the crowd of reporters as he whisked by. There was never a way for him to get out of the hubbub fast enough.

When he did take the chance to look around the sea of paparazzi, it was blurry nameless faces; people he didn’t know who were only interested in selling him to the media. As if the internet didn’t already have enough pictures of him being a celebrity, being the center of any and all attention, even occasionally trying to be a normal person. But he never got very far with that—it’s simply unnatural for someone to be the focus of a picture when they’re just trying to buy a cup of tea.

Wearing sweats out for a jog became a fashion statement, hugging an old female friend became a scandal. These people were relentless, squeezing every little bit of life out of him to meet a quota. Turning him into an object, a subject, pretty much everything under the sun except human.

One face he picked out from the usual crowd was different, though—younger, prettier, less chaotic. She was happy to be in the back of the swarm of cameras, oftentimes missing the perfect shot because she was just watching—her camera pointed toward the ground. She tried to see life before her through her own eyes and not the pupil of the lens. He noticed her at the events she attended, but never gave her a thought past the millisecond they made eye contact. That is, until they locked eyes for more than a split second; when she singlehandedly saved his sorry ass.

pov: you

You didn’t like your job.

You had gotten into photography to capture the beautiful stillness of nature, to be able to stare at the subject of your photo for hours on end and still get the perfect shot after basking in the reality of it for long enough. But dreams mostly stay dreams, and when you were offered a job as a photographer for a tabloid, you swallowed your pride and accepted. Dreams are wonderful and all, but they can’t pay your rent.

So you resigned yourself to capture the opposite of what you wanted—chaos, crowds of thousands, movie stars moving a mile a minute. You got enough content to keep your position, but you often found yourself trying to take in the essence of the scene before getting the perfect shot, and by then, the celebrity in question was gone. Your life had become a whirlwind, and all you wanted to do was stand still.

So, the day you were stationed outside of the hotel in Atlanta, told by your boss to keep your feet planted on the nondescript side street until you saw anyone of importance walk by, you were thrown off when the star of the movie came out of the doors to the service entrance with flask in hand and bags under his eyes, completely unaware that you were standing there. He flicked a burnt cigarette butt onto the ground and stepped on it, taking a swig from his canister. When he turned his head and saw you, you had your camera pointed directly at him; and to put it lightly, he freaked the fuck out.

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“Race ya!” 🥺🥺🥺

can you do a rogers!daughter x Peter Parker where he confesses his love to her after a battle and the avengers hear on coms

loved this a lot <3 (might do a part two. lemme know if y’all are interested hehe)

｡☆✼★━━ requests are closed ━━★✼☆｡

You’re paired with Wanda and Clint for the latest mission: invading HYDRA for the super-soldier serum. It’s hard work, and you’ve been fighting for a good hour. You’re getting closer to the center, and as you consistently report back to your dad and Tony through the comms, you can’t help but feel like something else is bound to happen. Sure, you’re your father’s kid, and maybe you inherited a few of his enhanced abilities, but you’re wearing down the line and your muscles are starting to ache in that familiar overworked way.

“How’s it going down there?” You hear your dad through your earpiece, and with a final punch to one of the guards, you wheeze out a response.

“Fine, just clearing out the area. Are we clear to enter yet?”

“Almost.”

You hum, turning the corner with your gun up front, just as Natasha had trained you so many times before. “I’m all clear over here.”

“Proceed to the lab. Tell me if anything goes sou-”

You don’t get to hear the end of your dad’s sentence, because somebody sends you a harsh blow to the side of your head, momentarily interfering with your senses. You go stumbling to the floor, muttering a quick “fuck” under your breath.

Turning over, you move to get up, but somebody picks you up by the collar of your suit. Suddenly, you feel cold metal against your temple and you know someone’s pointing a gun at you.

“Make a move and you’re dead meat,” he seethes out. His grip on you is strong, and you blink away harsh tears while attempting to stop your winced expressions of pain. You swallow thickly, and more voices come in through your comms.

“Y/N?” Steve yells, worried. “Y/N are you okay?”

Wanda’s voice runs through your ears, “Steve, someone’s holding her hostage!”

“Who’s down?” Tony butts in.

“Y/N,” Sam fills in. “Scanner shows a gun to her head.”

“Wait, Y/N?” You hear Peter, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. God, what you would give to be with Peter instead of this HYDRA agent. “Is she alright? What’s happening? Where is she?”

“Kid, I need you to not panic,” Tony says, thrusting upwards while he flies over a portion of the building to find Steve. “Y/N’s got a gun to her head and we can’t risk anything right now.”

“Right,” Peter swallows, “Sorry.”

“Does anyone have any ideas?” Wanda inquires before sending another agent flying into the wall.

“I do,” your father barks, vibranium shield coming into contact with a man who has a gun. He pushes the door open, “Attack.” He makes his way through the hallways and corridors, hoping to find any trace of you.

“Steve, you need to be careful. We don’t know what this guy can do.” Sam reports flying alongside Tony while the two of them find Peter webbing a few people to the walls of the building.

“You okay, kid?”

Peter nods at his mentor’s question. “We need to help Y/N.” His voice comes off frantic and worried, and if this were any other occasion, Tony would’ve teased him for being so protective of you.

“Tell me what you’re here for,” the man with a gun and an awfully shaved beard questions you, the gun nudging further into the side of your head.

Your jaw clenches and you swallow again, “I’m not telling you anything.”

The man makes a move to do something, and you know it can’t be good.

Suddenly, the hairs on Peter’s neck stand upright and his Peter Tingle goes off hazardously. He pauses where he is, stopping his movement while he blinks in surprise, senses going into overload. Suddenly, he makes the connection, and in a split second, he’s running so fast Tony can’t even register where he’s going and what he’s doing.

“Kid! Hey!”

Peter bursts through the door, web slinging and snatching the weapon right out the agent’s hand before he can even blink. You gasp in surprise, head shooting in the direction of Spider-man.

Peter blows a hit to the man’s head, successfully knocking him out in one hit. He’s at your side in seconds, questions flying out while you try to adjust to the quick change in situation.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“Peter, I’m fine,” You assure him, bringing his hands away from your face.

He doesn’t get the message though, and his hands fly back up to your face, allowing you to nuzzle into his glove-clad palm. He uses his hands to turn your face, inspecting your eyes and cheeks and jaw for scratches and bruises. He’s muttering under his breath, frantic and paranoid.

“Pete, Pete,” You hold both of his hands, keeping them away from your face. “I’m fine. Are you alright? Why’re you so worried?”

The eyes of his suit widen and he backtracks slightly, but not enough to lose physical contact with you.

“Why am I so worried? You just had a gun to your head, Y/N! You could’ve died!”

“But I didn’t.”

“But you could’ve!” He huffs, neither of you realizing that the entire team can hear you through the comms — and that they are. “That guy could’ve killed you! We could’ve lost you- I could’ve lost you!”

“Peter, it’s part of the job,” You calm him down with a humorless chuckle, slightly wary of where this is going. “This wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. But you saved me,” He tries to dodge your hands but you persist, bringing him close. “You saved me, Peter.”

“But what if I didn’t?”

“You did.”

“But what if I don’t make it next time, huh?! What do I do then?”

You click your tongue, glancing around at the barren room and the man passed out on the floor. You take a step closer to Peter.

“You see that over there?” You point towards the glass container. “That’s the super-soldier serum.” You don’t hear the gasps of the Avengers. “You just saved my life and retrieved them. There’s no ‘what if’ when it comes to your abilities, Peter. You made it.”

He’s quiet for a few beats. “I don’t want to lose you,” He confesses, whispering it while leaning his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

You blink in surprise but his eyes are shut while he stays put against your face. His lips are mere inches from yours, and you can feel the warmth radiating off of him. The two of you are too caught up in the moment to hear everyone else gasping at Peter’s confession.

“Yeah?” You interlock your fingers, your other hand slowly taking the flap of his mask and dragging it up above his lips. His breath fans your face, and your eyelids flutter shut for a moment. “I love you, too.” It comes out as a whisper, and before you know it, Peter’s leaning in and so are you. And for a split second you realize this is your best friend that you’re kissing, but then you realize that it feels so right.

Meanwhile, Tony turns to Steve with wide eyes and Rhodey is mouthing “did you know?” to anyone who can answer. Tony puts his hands up defensively, feigning innocence, and both men turn to look at Steve, who’s beside Bucky and Sam now.

“Well?” Tony whispers?”

“I didn’t know!” Steve defends, grumbling a “not like I’d approve of it anyways.”

“I knew,” Bucky raises his hand.

“Yeah, and me,” Sam agrees and Bucky rolls his eyes with a scoff.

“No you didn’t. She told me.”

“Yeah and she told me, too.”

“Well she told me first.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is! I-”

“Guys!” Wanda cuts them off. She uses her head to motion towards a room, and heads turn in the direction of you and Peter, who are walking out with a briefcase full of the remaining serums.

“We good?” You ask as Peter pulls his mask down over his mouth and nose. Everyone nods and you walk over to your dad’s side.

“You okay, honey?”

“Fine, dad. Let’s just get out of here.”

He nods before looking at Tony. “Circle around the building and report back. Meet you on the quinjet in five.”

Peter smirks behind his mask when he realizes Bucky, Steve and Sam are all going to run their ways back to the jet.

“Race ya!” he yells before grabbing hold of your waist and thwipping up into the air. You scream in delight and Steve watches the two of you leave. Sam laughs at his seemingly protective-dad-mode.