I'm not sure if you write for descendants any more I'm in desperate need of Carlos devil x reader 🥺👉👈 if you could write a Carlos with a baker I'd give you a real big thanks
Wait. This is actually so cute. I miss writing ):
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ARE WE FUCKING KIDDING
I don't care who you are you don't just burry your head in your "best friend's" chest while he tenderly holds you.
EXACTLY! And then showing Ben and Mal (A COUPLE) afterwards while Uma and Harry are together? Couples looking at other couples. 🥺
I CAN’T BELIEVE I JUST MADE THIS AT 1 AM. ENJOY!
Audio: Jay Versace
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MY TEARS UGH
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China Anne McClain as Uma in Descendants 3
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Update
So, Descendants 3 is out tomorrow! I’m super excited!
…But it does remind me of something. There’s another third instalment related to the Descendants franchise that I’ve been forgetting.
Well, until now.
Part 3 of Harry Hook x Tinkerbell’s Daughter will be posted tomorrow.
Heeeeck yeah!
Who do you think will give a funnier speech at Mal and Ben’s wedding; Uma or Hades?
This is a haaaard question, oh my god. In all honesty, I think that Hades could give a funnier speech only because he might possess that kind of Dad humor? We see this especially towards the end of D3 when Hades and Ben stare at each other and he gives him that “I’ll kill you if you hurt my daughter” look. It would be nice and funny to see Hades stumble around trying to give a speech to Ben and his daughter at their wedding. :)
Ask me more questions!
LOOK HOW AMAZING MY GIRLS LOOK OH NY GOOOD NIGHT FALLS REALLY GAVE US THAT CONTENT !
Questions
Send me questions or tell me your thoughts about D3!! I wanna hear them! :)
Cameron Boyce
This morning I woke up to find out that Cameron Boyce had passed away in his sleep. Cameron was an amazing and talented actor who had his entire life ahead of him. Throughout the years, Cameron has changed the lives of many and has made an immense impact on us all. I wish nothing but love for his family and I hope that he’s resting peacefully. Cameron will forever be missed and remain in our memories.
May 28th, 1999 - July 6th, 2019
It is I? I’m kinda back from my break, but with a Marvel Edit?? Weird, I know! Anyways, please enjoy this lovely edit I made of THE most powerful Avenger.
Imagine Dragons / I’m So Sorry
Wanda Maximoff
*I do not own clips/audio*
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Anonymous asked:
it was just recently father’s day where i’m from and I went to see a presentation my little brother’s class did for the dads, and I just imagine angel baby has a school performance for father’s day, but she wants to make it extra special for harry so she writes a little something, obviously not much cause she’s too little, and he gets all emotional over her
okay seriously Im on the verge of tears
“Look,” he giggles, “s’me!”
He’s been traipsing up and down the same hallway for 10 minutes, alert and very observant. His eyes were narrowed into slits as he analyzed each picture, looking for a familiar name. And it took up until now, his third roundabout in the pre school hallway, to find it. And it’s hung up just above the teeny little water fountain which, of course, he takes notice of. Thinks it’s so cute how small it is, and he asks you if angel baby ever uses it, as if you sit in school with her every day to give him an answer.
His heart is already so full, and a full fledged smile has crept up onto his face, as he leans in a little more to really appreciate angel baby’s work of art. It’s a lot of scribbles, but she’s only four, so he wasn’t expecting anything resembling a Picasso. But it still makes his chest ache, as he realizes that the two poorly drawn stick figures are him and angel baby. And they’re holding hands, while she’s drawn on a sloppy lopsided smirk and a messy head of hair for what he assumes to be his stick figure.
“S’not what we’re here for, baby.” You chuckle, tugging him by the wrist into the classroom.
It’s like he’s never been in a pre school before. He’s wandering around the room with wide eyes, taking in all the spirited colors, all the finger paintings hung by clothespins on string across the room. He sees all the other parents sat in little chairs, with pictures of their little ones taped to the back. He’s practically swooning when his eyes land on angel baby’s picture, those chubby cheeks he adores so much all perky with that toothy smile, eyes crinkled and bright. He’s badgering you about reminding him to take the picture with him before he leaves.
He’s been really looking forward to this. She’d been ranting and raving about it for so long, gushing over how hard she worked on this little project, how much he was gonna love it. And she had already made father’s day so special for him, just with the quick kiss to the cheek she’d bestowed on him earlier this morning. But he was eager to see this fathers day surprise she was so giddy about, and to be honest, so were you.
He’s the only one whooping and cheering when angel baby and her classmates come strolling in, all lined up quite neatly. You’re nudging him in the arm, silently begging for him to stop, because some of the parents are snarling at you over their shoulders. But he couldn’t stop, he wouldn’t, especially when she flashed him that cheeky little smile before shyly waving at him.
“This kid’s bloody awful.” He groans, voice hushed, his lips in proximity to your ear.
“Harry,” you whisper, “he’s four.”
And he merely shrugs, shaking his head before throwing his leg lazily over the other. You know he’s only saying it because he thinks that there’s nobody who could ever be quite as good as his angel. And he’s annoyed because she obviously should’ve been picked to go first, that’s just what he thinks. She’s standing there so patiently, politely, holding onto her piece of paper as she waits her turn. He nearly cheers for her now, in the middle of this little boys poem, for being so kind and paying attention so well, and she really isn’t doing anything. You nearly have to force him to sit on his hands.
He’s groaning in relief when the little boy on the mic finishes up, because he knows angel baby is next and he’s practically on the edge of his seat at this point. He nearly squeals in excitement when her classroom teacher speaks her name into the tiny little microphone, the whooping and yelling soon following. She’s obviously growing a little shy, body cowering away from the crowd, her sheet of paper wavering in her hand. And it’s making him want to cry, he hates seeing her nervous like this, and he almost does lurch from his seat. But you grab him by his wrist, asking him to just fucking relax.
“I wrote this for my daddy,” she mumbles into the mic, and he’s practically melting, “he’s right there.”
He doesn’t care that everyone has turned in their seats to look at them, craning their necks every which way to steal a glance. He’s completely zeroed in on his daughter, as she starts reciting a few lines of a poem she wrote all on her own (of course, with some guidance from the teacher). He’s got his hand intertwined with yours as he listens, and his heart is swelling up so much it feels like it’s teetering on the edge of completely bursting.
It’s a small gesture really, and it’s hardly a poem because it doesn’t really rhyme quite right, but God he could care less. He’s getting all choked up, and he doesn’t care to cry in a room filled with people he doesn’t know, but he’s not sure he can help it. Listening to her voice, so cute and small and dainty, as she goes on about how much she loves him, it’s making him feel appreciated and loved in an indescribable way.
I love my daddy because he is kind
I love my daddy because he gives me goodnight kisses
I love my daddy because he is perfect
The words are imprinting themselves into his brain, permanently etching themselves there forever. He’s sure that this will forever be one of his fondest memories, that there will never be much that could top this moment right here. And at this point, as she wraps up her ‘poem’ and smiles in gratitude for the applause, he’s standing up, and you let him. He could care less that there’s a tear brimming his eye, okay, maybe a few tears. He’s too busy clapping proudly, blowing kisses to his precious little creature.
THIS WAS SO FUCKING CUTR MY HEART HURTS
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Anonymous asked:
Okay I’ve been thinking about this A LOT! One where Harry tells BFF Y/N about him dating Camille but you’re in love with him and he doesn’t know. And what if like Y/N is famous too and Harry decided to surprise her at one of his shows BUT BRINGS CAMILLE and she covers ‘Girl Crush’ and right when she introduces it she sees Harry and she’s just kinda like “fuck it” and sings it anyways and he understands as she’s like staring him down that she loves him ugh. I need to know what would happen next
ooo famous Y/N this is new territory for me. I like it. This is actually so damn long I’m sorry but not too sorry bc it’s so fucking good. hope you LOVE it! Xx
He doesn’t normally do the whole surprise thing. He doesn’t show up announced, he likes to grace you with the courtesy of calling, or send a text, to make sure you’re not caught up in something and can maneuver him into your schedule.
But he’s looming around the corner of the corridor, bringing his finger to his lips each time one of your team members spots him. He had to pull one of them aside, and ask which one was your dressing room, because he didn’t want to knock on all the doors like a fucking idiot. So now he’s sneakily making his way to the very end of the hall, politely waving at the few people who shoot him a bewildered look, as they try to figure out why Harry Styles is awkwardly jogging down the hallway.
FUVK
coresfour reblogged
i. favors.
in which harry needs a little tlc.
…
She laid between his legs on the couch, chest to chest, her fingers delicately tracing the curves and lines of his face, his head turned to focus on whatever crap reality show he’d stopped on in his channel surfing.
She hummed, her index finger stopping in the hollowed space beneath his jutting cheekbone.
“You know I love you, right?”
He turned his gaze towards her, one eyebrow raised. “Why?”
Her eyes ran over the expanse of his expression. “Skin’s looking a little dull, bub.”
He rolled his eyes, turning back to the TV with a huff. “Oh, thanks.”
She hooked a finger on his jaw, turning him back to her. “No, come on.” She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, smiling. “Lemme help you fix it.”
He looked up where she was hovering over him. “How do you plan on doin’ that?”
She pushed herself up from his chest, leaning on the knee she’d slotted between his legs and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t go anywhere.”
He turned onto his side once she was up, pulling the blanket that had been covering them both up to his neck. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it.”
She padded across the room, behind the couch, and into the kitchen, reaching into the fridge for a green tube and walking back over to the couch with it, rolling it in her hands to warm it up a little. She tapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, roll over.”
He flipped onto his back, exhaling, and rested his hands on his belly. She set the tube on the table and shook her head. “Move those.”
He furrowed his brow, putting his hands behind his head. “You’re bossy.”
She rolled her eyes, smiling at him before tossing a leg over his hips to straddle them. “I didn’t want to sit on them, you dummy.”
“Why not? Usually like sittin’ on my fingers.”
He stuck out his tongue and she smacked his chest, crossing her arms. “Don’t be an ass, I’m trying to do you a favor.”
He just smiled at her, watching her lean over and grab the tube, clicking open the cap and squeezing some of the green paste onto her fingers.
“What’s that?” he asked, watching her smooth it between her fingers.
She smiled at him softly. “An avocado mask. It’s hydrating.”
“Ok- AH!” He pulled back from her when she pressed the paste to his face, leaving a green splotch on his cheek. “That’s bloody cold!”
“Yeah, dummy, it was in the fridge. Stop being a baby.”
His face scrunched up when she gently began spreading a thin layer of green goop on his face, starting on his cheeks, moving to his chin, his forehead, his temples, and then kissing the tip of his nose before slowly working it there too. She ran a hand through his curls, pulling them away from his now-wet forehead and smiling down at her hard work.
“Look at you. Harry Styles, in his pajamas on the couch, watching reality TV with a face mask on. No one would ever believe it.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off.
“Ah! You can’t talk, you’ll start cracking.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head, but stayed silent. She ran her hand through his hair again, looking at him fondly, and then reached over to the table to grab her phone, sliding over to the camera and sitting up on her knees, pulling back to get the full image. He reached up and tried to grab it from her, whining.
“Hey! No, no, no, you don’t get to keep me from my blackmail! You’ve got, like, a billion terrible photos of me, let me just have this one. You don’t even look bad,” she scolded, shaking off his light grip on her wrist.
(She didn’t need it for blackmail. She only wanted to keep it, to remember this little moment, but teasing him was always fun.)
“Not fair, you always look good,” he said through nearly closed lips.
She shushed him, taking a couple shots of his pouting face, giggling. “No harm no foul. Unless you piss me off. One text and I’ll send these to Grimmy and then the whole world will have them.”
He reached up, shoving her shoulder and she grabbed his hand, kissing the palm. “I kinda like this whole ‘you being quiet’ thing.”
“How much longer?”
She shrugged, shifting so her leg was between his again, laying her head on his chest, pressing a light kiss to his collarbone. “Ten minutes, I guess. Now hush.”
So they stayed, her halfway listening to the TV, halfway to his heartbeat.
(It was moments like these that it hit her in the gut just how lucky she was, to have someone like him. A boy willing to let her use him as a body pillow and let her put a face mask on him and watch their crappy TV shows together. How lucky she was to have reached the peak of domesticity, of happiness. He was warm, and sweet, and she really, really loved him.)
The credits were rolling on the latest episode of their show when she sat up, stretching out her back before looking at his green face and pressing a kiss to his neck. “I’m just going to get something to clean you up, I’ll be right back.”
She went back around to the kitchen, taking a washcloth from one of their drawers and turning the sink to warm, getting the cloth wet before going back over to him and retaking her place over his hips.
He smiled gently at her as she brought the cloth to his chin, revealing his slightly reddened skin underneath. She gently rubbed at his face, bringing away more and more green, and, when she got to the upper part of his face, softly told him, “Close your eyes, lovey.”
She wiped at his forehead, his nose, and then he was clean, and looking up at her with raised brows, smirking. “Better?”
She brushed the curls back onto their rightful place on his forehead, smiling before leaning down to kiss him, his skin smelling like soap and whatever fruity smells they put into the goop he’d just had on him. “Much. Just one more thing.”
“Leavin’ again?” he said, fingertips trailing over her torso as she got up. “Thought we were gettin’ pretty comfortable out here.”
“I’ll be right back.”
She went down the hall, leaning into the laundry room to toss the wet, sticky cloth into the hamper for the bleach load and then found her way into their bathroom, grabbing one of the tubs from her side of the counter and then turning, going back out to where he was on the couch, his eyes following her back to her spot on top of him.
(Something about the intimacy of it all made her crave just that extra inch of closeness, and something about the way his eyes lingered told her he felt the same.)
She twisted open the tub, getting a bit of the white cream on her fingertips and smearing it onto his face before wiping her hand on her pants, twisting the jar closed, and setting it on the coffee table. “There.” She kissed him again. “All better.”
“‘M I pretty now?”
She rolled her eyes, her hands resting on his chest. “You were extremely pretty before and you know it.”
His brow and the corner of his mouth lifted at the same time, a sort of toothy grin coming over his face. “‘Extremely?’ That’s a bit excessive, love.”
He couldn’t seem to keep his hands in one spot, drifting from her waist to her hips to her ass fluidly.
“Not nearly enough, actually.”
(His hands were warm and soft and so familiar, and this was all she wanted for the rest of her life, and she really hoped he was inclined to agree.)
“Thank you for helpin’ me. Keepin’ me gorgeous.”
Her response was muffled, considering her mouth was now attached to his neck. “Not a problem, H.”
“Got anything you need my help with?”
She pulled back to look at him, his smile gone smug.
“I can think of a few things.”
THIS IS SO SOFT I LOVE IT DIKDNITS SO FUCKING CUTE IMAGINE DURING FACE MASKS WITH H MY FUCKING HEART IS GONE