but should i poke him back

know it all — p.p.

summary : may parker can’t fathom that you and her nephew aren’t dating yet- she can’t wait forever, you know, and she knows it’s going to happen eventually. when has may ever been wrong?

word count : 3k

author’s note : long time no see?? LOL sophomore year is successfully kicking my ass but i wrote this and it’s semi long so?? 

   May Parker prides herself on a lot of things- namely, her stunning resilience in the face of immense adversity, and the way she just seems to know things. She can’t help it, it’s her not so lame superpower and she uses it on Peter all the time, much to his annoyance. She earns a roll of the eyes whenever she says something out of the blue, so profound Peter can’t help but contemplate its credibility for the hours that follow their interactions. She knows things, she does, and she knows that you and her nephew are as meant to be as her and Ben were- are, she chastises herself sometimes- and she knows it so truly in the deepest recesses of her heart that the fact that you and Peter aren’t together is something that goes right over her head. 

   “Peter, hon, when’s your girl coming over? I miss having other ladies in the house,” she says one day, interrupting the silence that had settled upon the pair  as Peter recited the periodic table of elements so naturally in his head in preparation for a quiz the following day. Peter loses track somewhere between lithium and beryllium or maybe it was phosphorus, he doesn’t know anymore, when he hears May call you that, his girl, and he shakes his head at her wildly. “What? What’d I say?” May points her wooden spoon at him, and Peter’s reminded that she’s Italian for the fifth time that day. 

   “May, she’s not- she’s not my, like, girlfriend,” he stresses each syllable the word carries, practically throwing his pencil across the table when he turns his chair to get a better view of his aunt as she prepares dinner- pasta, again, because she claims it’s the only thing she can’t possibly mess up. “You know that! Y/N’s been my best friend forever.” 

    “You realize you can be best friends with your girlfriend, don’t you?” Peter can sense May’s eyes rolling even though he can’t see her since she’s facing the stove with her back turned. “You two have definitely kissed. You can’t tell me you haven’t.” 

    Peter’s entire face feels hot when she says that, his hands clammy when he presses them together against his cheeks, placing his elbows on the table to prop his head up. “That’s embarrassing, May. Why would you ever ask me that?” He runs his hands through his hair and the gel is so terribly packed on it that the carefully prepared hairstyle comes undone with one swift movement. “We haven’t, in case you’re wondering, which I know you are because you’re nosy.” Peter feels the spoon lightly poke into his back, a playful warning. 

   “Anyways,” May continues loudly, “as I was saying before, your girlfriend should come over for dinner sometime this week. I’m making pasta.” She grins before placing a bowl of penne in front of Peter, his least favorite pasta shape. Peter scowls at the penne but picks up his fork anyway and shoves some in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before giving May a thumbs up. At least she was proud of it. “I won’t make penne if you get her to come over.” 

    She knows she’s got him when she sees the slow, unsure nod start. He sticks his hand out, and May shakes it happily. “Only because of the penne. I want bowties. Please,” he gives his aunt his best, brightest, sweetest smile he can form, much like the ones that come so naturally when he turns his gaze to look at you- but May won’t bring that up just yet. “And don’t make girlfriend jokes in front of her.” His utensil stabs into the pasta as he thinks to himself, ‘cause if you keep it up in front of her, she’ll think I’m a weirdo and I’ll never genuinely get to call Y/N that, ever. Honestly, he’d much rather launch himself headfirst off of the Empire State Building than never get to experience kissing you, holding your hand, being with you in all those sorts of hopelessly romantic ways that he daydreams about regularly. He’s doing it again, slipping into that endless reverie he always seems to find himself lost in. But it’s okay. His mind is a chasm of soft loves and sweet words shared between the two of you. It’s a beautiful, long mess of a dream. 

   “You lost, Pete?” May snaps her fingers in front of his face, bemused. 

    “A little,” he sighs in that dreamy tone she recalls her own self indulging in so fondly in her younger years. His gaze becomes hazy again, like he’s on another plane entirely, but she lets him be. For now. 


    Peter knows he’s dressing up a little too much for just a friend. He’s spraying too much strong cologne and gelling his hair excessively and praying you won’t notice the fact that it’ll be dryer than the leaves in the wintertime, but it’s all too much for someone he insists is his best friend and his best friend alone, nothing more and nothing less, certainly not his girlfriend. Never that, right? Peter frowns at his reflection and tilts his head down, rubbing his head in attempt to remove most of the gel that had been a serious mistake in the first place. You preferred his hair curly, anyway. Not that he cared. Not in the slightest. He puts on the sweater that you once said looked lovely on him and he wears his nice jeans, the ones without that stupid hole near the butt cheek that you can’t really see unless you’re trying

   His cheeks flush when May gives a tiny, satisfied smirk upon seeing his perfectly put together outfit. He acts as if no time at all was spent on his appearance, but she knows him, like she knows everything else, and she knows that he’s been holed up in the bathroom for over twenty minutes now trying to see which shirt matched his eyes best and debating the chances of you realizing that this was the sweater you liked the most on him before he put it on and beamed at himself in the mirror. Maybe it was the color or the stitching or the fabric but he was starting to like this one much more, too. 

   “You look very handsome, sweets,” May says to him, squeezing his shoulder as she brushes past him to place a salad on the table. Peter surveys the salad with a strange look on his face. 

   “Why’d you make a salad? Since when does Y/N eat salad?” He raises his eyebrows at her, before adding with haste, “not that I don’t love your salad, Aunt May, ‘cause I do. I promise.”  

   Aunt May places her hands on her hips, peering at him through the tops of her glasses in a way that makes her look too wise for someone as young as she was. “I’m making a good impression, obviously.” 

   “You’ve known her for like ten years now, the time for good impressions is over, May. You missed your chance.”

   “This is the first time I’m seeing Y/N as your girlfriend, though!” Peter lets out the loudest groan imaginable, running his hands over his cheeks and slapping his forehead with great vexation. 

   “Still not my girlfriend,” he insists on insisting, taking the extra plates out of her busy hands and helping to set the small kitchen table. 

   May smooths back a loose strand of hair from his forehead with a kind, teasing grin on her face. “Doesn’t mean you don’t want her to be, kiddo.” 

   He can’t possibly argue with that sort of logic, especially not when his aunt hits the nail right on the head in that peculiar way she has a habit of doing, so he just smiles and kisses May on the cheek. There’s a knock on the door less than a second later, and the pair scramble for the upper hand before Peter beats her to it and nearly flies to grab the handle of it and yank it open so he can greet you accordingly, slightly out of breath with his hair flopping to one quite nicely and a joyous smile making its way across his mouth when he sees you for the first time that day. May hovers earnestly behind him, hands fluttering over her nephew’s shoulders so she can push past him to wrap you in a hug if need be. Sometimes Peter has the impression that May adores you even more than he does; he wasn’t sure if he should be glad for that, or a bit offended that you seemed to return the blatant favoritism with ardency. 

   There was a brief second where your eyes raked over your best friend’s face with soft admiration, hidden as carefully as you could manage. When you met his appreciative gaze you felt the palms of your hands clam up and so you cast your look back to his aunt and playfully pushed past him to give her a hug. 

   Peter, offense overriding his previously somewhat moonstruck expression, backed away from you when you finally turned toward him with your arms outstretched. “Oh, now I get a hug? Interesting,” he rolls his eyes in a teasing manner, unable and unwilling to conceal his little, loving smile that appeared when you pried his arms off his chest and defiantly wrapped them around yourself as you hugged him. “Didn’t seem so interested in hugging me when you were shoving me away to get to May,” he says, craning his neck to stare at you whilst continuing to drag the embrace out for as long as possible. 

   “You’re still my favorite Parker,” you reply, poking his chest lightly. Then you turn away before you can say anything else that could be considered too revealing of certain, carefully concealed feelings that had the possibility of being detrimental to a beautiful friendship that had manifested over the years into something more, but not quite, not yet. “Sort of,” you put as an afterthought, lest he get any ideas about you feeling… something for him. “Anyways, what’s for dinner, May?” You anticipate pasta, and when May announces the dish with a great flourishing of her hand, you grin. Typical, yes, but nothing if not welcomed. 

  Peter, gentleman that he is, pulls out your chair for you, and you let yourself imagine that he’s doing it as a chivalrous boyfriend and not simply a polite friend. He imagines the same, though. Imagines that he’s on a date with you and he pulls out your chair and smiles kindly and lovingly- and he basks in this image for as long as he can. May calls you over then, and the daydream is shattered. You make your way over to her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. 

   May lowers her voice before speaking, “Y/N, I’m gonna need you to explain something to me,” she starts. You nod, raising your eyebrows at her. “Explain why you and Peter aren’t together yet. Honestly, honey, I just can’t understand it.” She talks with her hands the way Peter does. 

   “Uh- what? I, um, I don’t… understand?” Your voice cracks a little, as if having May practically shove your less than friendly feelings for Peter back in your face wasn’t embarrassing enough. “We’re, um, you know, like, friends.” 

   Her hand waves dismissively, pushing that sentence away. “No, no, see that’s what he said, too! I have to disagree. I know everything, kiddo, and I know that you two are going to make it as a couple, so if that’s what your afraid of, don’t be. Go for it. I see the same thing in him that I see in you right now, and that thing is love. So, I’m going to need you to go make my nephew the happiest kid on Earth and tell him you’re falling in love with him, and you’ll see that he’s going to say the same thing to you. Trust me. Aunt May knows all,” she shrugs in a casual manner, brushing her confidence off, before she steers you around and gently pushes you back toward the tiny dining room table where Peter sits awkwardly fiddling with his thumbs with his lip caught between his teeth. 

   “Hi,” you almost whisper, settling down in your seat across from him. 

   He glances up. “Hey,” he says, smiling again. A reflex, in your presence. He clears his throat, then asks, “So, what’d you and May talk about?” He knows May loves him as if he were her son, which for all intents and purposes he is, but he can’t be sure of her secrecy. He wouldn’t put it past his aunt to let slip “accidentally” that he liked you, loved you, cared for you. 

   You take a sip of your glass of water that Peter must have filled in your absence from the table. You had a tendency to take sips of your drink when in uncomfortable conversations, or conversations you felt nervous in. He notes that. “Oh, um, nothing really… but if were gonna talk about it, I’d wanna do it in, like, private?” You twirl your straw around your drink, mixing the ice in the glass. Peter abruptly stands from his chair. You watch him sling a jacket around his shoulders and throw one of his sweaters at you, which you catch easily. “You wanna go now?” 

   He nods, licking his lips anxiously. “No better time than the present, right?” If you’re going to confront him and crush his heart with a single sentence that stands along the lines of I see you as a friend, he wants it done sooner rather than later. He wants it over with, so he can go back to his suffering in comfortable silence and start an attempt to move past this crush the way he had easily drifted away from his crush on Liz Allan. You fumble with the sweater as you stand. “May, we’re gonna step out for a bit!” Peter announces, opening the front door of his apartment and letting you slip out first. He doesn’t wait for her response before he disappears, too. May watches the two of you leave and feels her heart grow twice its size. 

  You’re standing outside the apartment building ten minutes later in the chilly autumn breeze, thankful for the cologne scented sweater that rests over your body like a warm blanket. Peter’s hands are never cold, and so they linger outside of his pockets as opposed to yours, shoved inside the front pocket of the sweater he’s given you. He reaches for your hands wordlessly and rubs them over his. “You’re always freezing,” he laughs quietly, lacing his fingers through yours with a new burst of confidence that you find endearing as you squeeze his hands. “Hey, wanna know something? You might know it already but, I figure I should tell you myself, if you wanna know.” He swings his hands back and forth, and yours swing along with his. 

   “Yeah, please,” you insist, twisting your head to the side to sweep the windswept hair out of your face. One of Peter’s hands comes up to brush it out of the way, typical and cliche and an overplayed move but none of that matters when the action is being carried out, because it makes your stomach constrict in that funny way and your heart melt into a puddle on the dirty sidewalk. His fingers linger over the softness of your cheek, and he keeps his hand there to see what you’ll say about it. You say nothing, let remain there. “You gonna tell me or not?” 

  “Should I- I could maybe…” he sucks on the bottom of his lip. “Forget it, I don’t know how to speak properly around you like this.” You start to protest, demand he tell you because you won’t be able to stop thinking about this if he doesn’t, but every word dies before it can touch the edge of your lips. Peter has his head lowered down toward you and he’s kissing you, a thought that’s crossed your mind more times than you were able to count but now, it’s happening. Real lips pressed against yours feverishly, shyness forgotten in the heat of the moment. When he pulls away first, it returns and collides with him as if he’s hit a brick wall, and his cheeks burn red. He makes no move to back away, still. “D-Did I step out of line? Was that okay? Do you hate me? ‘Cause if you do we can go back upstairs or you can leave and then on Monday we can pretend that this never happened because you’re still my best friend no matter what even if it’s awkward-” 

   Your hands clasp together around the back of his neck as you yank him down toward you again, and this time you kiss him back. You can feel him smiling so hard it makes it difficult to kiss him, but when you break away to tell him that, he just laughs and smiles harder and keeps kissing you. He doesn’t know how to stop now that’s he had the opportunity. You’re both laughing hysterically and trying to kiss properly and his nose bumps against yours repeatedly, and it’s the most perfect first kiss in the world. 

   He keeps his hand firmly grasped in yours when you go back upstairs to his seventh floor apartment, opens the door for you and everything. May is sitting at the table, turns her head to the both of you and peers at you from the top of her glasses. Peter raises his hand and yours, triumphant. May claps her hands together as he, your boyfriend, declares proudly, “Aunt May, I would like to formally introduce you to my girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N, who I hope will be sticking around?” He looks to you for reassurance, and gets what he needs from the happy kiss you bestow upon the side of his face. 

   “I told you two I know everything!” Is what breaks the joyous silence, and then the laughter starts again; a perfectly lovely family. 

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Tongue (Ethan)

⚤ - CONTAINS SMUT

You laid back on your shared bed with your boyfriend, Ethan, scanning aimlessly through your phone. When you had texted Ethan on your way home from the airport he had told you he was out filming something with Grayson.  Neither of you had seen each other in two weeks since you’d come back from your family vacation. You had originally planned to come home a day later but you wanted to surprise Ethan by choosing to come home a little earlier instead. You waited impatiently, tapping your fingers against your thigh until your heart began to pound in your chest at the sound of the apartment door opening and closing. Heavy footsteps shuffled in followed by two familiar voices.

“Dude I think she’s gonna hate it.” You heard Ethan’s laugh and it automatically made your heart sing even though you were questioning what the hell he’d gotten himself into now. You couldn’t leave Ethan or Grayson alone for more than five minutes before one of them was hurting themselves or doing something they’d likely regret later on.

“Maybe she’ll think it’s kind of kinky.” Grayson replied. You heard a smack followed by a loud “Ow!” You narrowed your eyes. What the hell were they talking about? You shook your head and contemplated coming out of the bedroom until you heard Ethan’s footsteps trudging down the hall.

“I’m taking a nap bro. I’m beat.”

The door swung open and Ethan stopped dead, stumbling backwards, clutching his chest with widened eyes.

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Baby Drama

Originally posted by spdrparker

Pairing: dad!Bucky Barnes x female!Reader x some Steve Rogers

Prompt: “I’m gonna show you who’s your real daddy.” (#18)

Warnings: none, really !! i mean, bucky gets kinda jealous, but there’s nothing too intense in this (which is surprising) - the use of ‘Daddy’, but in an innocent way, i promise - some sexual reference

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: this is for @bucky-plums-barnes ‘s writing challenge - congrats on 8K, darlin’!!


“Are you sure that you can handle this, Stevie?” Bucky hurriedly questions as he finishes-up tying his tie and stuffs his toothbrush into his duffel bag. He taps the button on the back of his hand and a sort-of covering disguises his metal arm. The device was a gift from Tony Stark, and he only uses it whenever he feels the need to, which is rarely ever. “Because we could always just stay home.”

“Don’t worry, Buck,” Steve chuckles at his nervous friend. “You and Y/N deserve a break. It’s your anniversary, go out, have some fun - live a little,” Steve grins as he sits on the couch near where a very content toddler was fiddling with some crayons. “Emma and I will be just fine. Won’t we, Em?” Steve leans forward and tickles her cheek with his finger, earning a bubbly giggle from the child.

“Bucky, she’ll be fine with Steve,” you say as you slide off one of the stools at the kitchen island, swinging your purse over your shoulder. “C’mere, Emmy,” you coo goofily, crouching down and reaching for the toddler. She plops forward onto her hands and crawls over to you, reaching out with her chubby hand towards you. You pick her up, holding her comfortably in your arms.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for Uncle Stevie?” You giggle at her, bopping her nose.

“M-Mama,” Emma babbles, grabbing at your hair.

“No, no, no,” you wince, dragging her hand away from being able to pull at your hair. “Here, say bye to Daddy,” you give her a big, exaggerated kiss on the cheek before handing her off to Bucky and grabbing your suitcase, heading for the door.

“I’ll miss ya, Emmy,” Bucky gives her an Eskimo kiss, Emma’s childish laughter bouncing through the room. “We’ll be back tomorrow,” he promises, setting her back down on the ground. Bucky walks over to the island and grabs his bag, then meets your at the doorway.

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Make up Marichat May, Day 12: Sleepover

Title: Good Morning
Word Count: 2,059

“Nope,” Chat Noir admits, trying to keep any disappointment from sneaking into his tone. He’d never slept over at someone’s house before. His father was far too protective to have him do something like that.  

“No? They’re fun,” Marinette says nonchalantly.

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Damn Fine Police Work

Context: In a dark heresy campaign, my Iron Hands techmarine had just shot off the sword arm of an enemy officer charging me with a chainsword. I then crushed his other hand so he couldn’t fight back and dangled him upside down by the foot with my servo arm, attempting to interrogate him for information. At this point the officer is bleeding profusely out of both arms and what little blood is left in him is rushing to his head. My character is heavily augmented with cybernetics and takes a large penalty on any ‘charisma’ based interactions with anyone who is not.

Me (ooc): “I want to ask this guy about enemy troop locations in the area so we have an idea of what we’re up against.”

*critically fails the intimidation check*

DM: “You begin screaming incoherently while shaking him up an down with your servo arm. The mental strain he goes through trying to understand your nonsense while hanging upside down gives him a brain aneurysm and he dies on the spot.”

Me: “Apothecary! I require your skills to revive this important fleshling!”

Blood Angel Apothecary (successfully using his bone drill to perform complex brain surgery): “Don’t you die on me, human! I must kill you myself! The emperor demands it!”

DM: “The officer regains consciousness with the apothecary’s drill still lodged in his skull and immediately begins screaming in pain and fear.”

Me: “Cease your whimpering, scum! Tell us what we want to know!”

*fails another intimidation check*

DM: “The officer, not even knowing what it is you want from him, abandons all hope and begins begging for death. He promptly runs out of blood and dies. Again. No amount of “first aid” can bring him back.

Me (gently poking his corpse to see if he’s still alive): “Hmm…Perhaps I was not frightening enough. I will take this into consideration for future interrogations." 

Our Squad’s Devastator (who has a notably higher ‘charisma’ than everyone else and just watched the whole ordeal unfold): "Hey guys? Not to rain on your torture parade or anything, but uhh… I think I should handle the prisoners from now on.”

The apothecary and I disagreed.

NHL!Bitty, Part V - Single

The first openly gay NHL player can’t be single in Seattle! 

Since Eric can’t risk telling anyone he has a boyfriend (especially a closeted NHL-er), his only option is to play along as the Schooners go out of their way to find Eric a boyfriend. This wouldn’t be a problem if his well-meaning teammates didn’t keep trying to introduce him to other closeted players, of which there are more than he would have guessed. Now Eric has to survive a night with Kent Parson.

Origin: From Samwell to Seattle | Part I - Hug Check | Part II - Chirping |  Part III - Post-Season | Part IV - RPF 




As the first openly gay player in the NHL, Eric is used to being locker rooms filled with guys bundled up so tight a TSA scanner couldn’t find their genitals; but then there’s stuff like this. Brazen nudity of the ‘I recognize you’re attracted to men, look how cool I am with it’ variety. His new captain leans toward the latter in a way that would make Shitty proud.

“Bittle, we’re going out with a few Aces. You met Kent Parson?”

Mitchell ‘Cricket’ Crocker is pushing 30 and already going gray. He’s also standing in front of Eric’s stall, naked as the day he was born, unconcerned with the fact his junk is at Eric’s eye-level. 

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“Dude,” Lance whispered as the token alien prince of the week swept out of the room grandly. “He was totally vibing on you.”

Next to him, Keith shot him an annoyed look, lips pursed tightly until the door closed behind the prince with a click.

“Is that really what you were focusing on?” The Black Paladin demanded once he was sure they were alone, rounding on his companion with his arms crossed firmly over his chest. He leveled Lance with a look that he thinks is meant to be stern and disapproving. “We’re trying to form an alliance here and you’re thinking about that.”

“Um, it was kinda hard not to,” Lance scoffed, planting his hands on his hips, completely unperturbed - Keith should really leave the scolding to Shiro. “He was eyeing you the entire time.” His lips pulled into a knowing smirk. “He likes you.”

Keith flushed, turning his head away. “Shut up.”

Lance’s smirk grew positively devious. “Ohhh, I see how it is,” he taunted, reaching out and poke his teammate’s stomach teasingly, just below his chest armor. “Do you, perhaps, like him too?”

Keith shifted away from his hand, sending him a sidelong glance. “Maybe. So?”

Lance’s grin flickered before coming back full force. “So, why don’t you do something about it? We’re not due fly out for another two days; plenty of time to – ah – get to know the prince better.” The Red Paladin waggled his eyebrow suggestively as Keith’s flush darkened to a full-blown blush. His cheeks were starting to ache from the force of his smile.

“That-. No, none of that,” Keith croaked, hands flexing visibly before digging into his still-crossed arms firmly. “Besides, that would be…” He trailed off and shook his head roughly. “We’re leaving in two days. To continue fighting a war. That would be irresponsible.”

“Or a chance for you to have fun for once,” Lance countered, though his heart clenched at the implication. “I’m not saying marry the guy, just see where it goes. Or just talk to him. Plus, the prince isn’t an idiot. I’m sure he’ll realize anything between you is… temporary.”

He watched as violet eyes flickered between him and the door. Keith pressed his mouth into a thin line, still looking uncertain, but also like he was actually considering the idea.

“You think so?”

“Man, this is me you’re talking to,” Lance reasoned with his usual put-upon air of arrogance. “I’ve figured out whether a romantic venture is worth it or not.”

Keith snorted. “I suppose that’s true. Lot of trial-and-error on your part.”

“Shut the hell up, asswipe.”

Keith laughed at that outright, and despite his wounded pride and squirming insides, Lance found himself smiling as well. After a moment, the Black Paladin sobered up. His crossed arms loosened and fell to his sides once more as he glanced back at the door again, looking nervous this time.

“Maybe just this once.”

Lance clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man. You want any pointers?”

“From you? Hard pass.”

“Rude.” Huffing, Lance turned to the table and grabbed their data pads, closing out of the note-taking programs and tucking them securely under his arm. “While you do that, I’ll go debrief the team.”

Keith nodded in approval, smiling as Lance quietly wished him luck and left his leader to his own devices.

The brunet walked through the unfamiliar halls of the prince’s castle, carefully retracing his steps from earlier that afternoon.

Once he was certain that he was far enough away from the meeting room and still a ways from their Paladin quarters, he slowed to a stop. He leaned against wall, hyper-focusing on his breathing instead of the sickening roll of his stomach.

‘This is for the best,’ the logical part of his brain reassured. ‘And, look, you’re making progress!’

But no matter what that little voice told him, Lance’s chest still seemed too small for his lungs and his heart ached.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and, taking a final deep breath, pushed off the wall. He glanced up and down the hall, making sure he hadn’t been caught; it wouldn’t do to have a stray servant see a member of Voltron so broken up over nothing. Especially over a stupid, pointless crush.

Blue eyes lingered longingly on the way he came before Lance turned away decisively.

“One step at a time,” he reminded himself, forcing his feet forward, away from Keith and the royal quarters. “One step at a time.”

Part two of my trc/tfc crossover extravaganza as requested by about 16 humans, this is going to be a trio, so wait for chapter 3 buddds


There’s a knock on the door two seconds before Ronan slits through the doorway shoulder first. Adam feels like the contents of a cardboard box, sliced and opened.

“I fucking hate this,” Ronan says, his whole presence bunched at the entrance, coiled. “Why do I feel like they have more secrets than we do?”

Adam shuffles his feet so he’s contained to one cushion, and Ronan sits down instantly, close enough that his waves eat Adam’s ripples.

“You wanted this.”

“I wanted to play exy.”

“You wanted all of us with you,” Adam adds. “You wanted to not be the most difficult person on a team. You wanted college to be easy and the games to be hard.”

Ronan looks at him closely, then kicks backward onto the couch, head on the far armrest, legs pushing at Adam’s so that they have to occupy some of the same space.

“I don’t need another gang of thugs to tell me what I have to be.”

“Kavinsky’s crew was—“

“I’m not talking about him,” Ronan says viciously. Adam eyes him, then looks at their legs, at Ronan’s hand, lax near his thigh.

“I think,” Adam says slowly, “that it’s too soon to tell.”

Ronan’s eyes are slitted blue when Adam looks down, peering past his own knees to meet his gaze.

“Yeah okay, diplomat. Tell me what you really think.”

Adam rolls his head back, flexing his hands to hear them crack, thinking of the way Neil and Andrew paired off and put their heads together, dark and light, speaking with gestures first, silences second, words last.

“I think that we’re trying to put two plugs together, and we don’t have any sockets.”

“Pretty,” Ronan snarks. Adam ignores him.

“They don’t trust us.”

“I don’t trust them,” Ronan replies easily, and takes Adam’s hand so he’ll stop cracking and wringing.

“I don’t think any of us would qualify for the foxes if we were—“

“Trustworthy?”

“Easy to understand,” Adam continues. “I’ve watched the tapes, Ronan. They’re still fractured at the best of times.”

“We’re stronger,” Ronan says quietly, playing with Adam’s fingers.

“We’re good together,” Adam agrees, and Ronan pulls him down on top of him. Adam falls, and enjoys the falling quite a lot, the way Ronan’s mouth changes when he’s close. “We haven’t always been.”

“That’s Gansey’s fault. He doesn’t know how to introduce people.”

“Meanwhile you made a great case for yourself,” Adam says sarcastically, grinning when Ronan does. “So personable.”

“Hey,” Ronan says, cupping Adam’s face with both hands and squeezing. “You wanna go see what we can do on this shit campus?”

“I want to get ahead on my readings, actually. My grades have to be better than my status, because PSU has zero prestige.” 

Ronan rolls him into the back of the couch and kisses him fast, rubs a thumb over the sting on Adam’s lips. “No, you want to break into the court.”

“We have the keys.”

“You want to legally enter the court,” Ronan amends, pinching Adam’s side so that his ribcage cants up.

“Yeah,” Adam says after a moment. He thinks about the burnished wood of the court and the killing heft of a racquet. He pictures Ronan and Gansey next to him, crowing victory, the sweat and rush and pitch of the finite game, the deadline he can see and count on. Exy decks him and he hits back.

“Good,” Ronan says. “I want to put a dent in their fucking foxhole.”

_____

The lights are on when they get to the court at midnight, and Ronan lets the door fall closed hard behind them. There’s no movement, just miles of clean hallway and the hollow, lived-in feeling of a place that should be full.

They exchange looks, and walk steadily towards the heart of the building. They gear up quickly in the chill of the changing rooms, laughing at each other in their fiery oranges. Ronan musses the bandana from Adam’s hair. 

They poke their way towards the court, and when they’re close enough, the screech and hammer of activity haunts the hallway.

“My bet’s on Day. He looks like he doesn’t sleep,” Ronan says, kicking the door open and catching it before it can swing back.

“That’s a pretty ironic insult, coming from you,” Adam says pointedly, and Ronan grumbles something about involuntary insomnia, but they’re already spilling out into the central court.

He regrets making it this far. He feels so blatantly redundant, a meal that’s mistakenly been delivered to a table of people who’ve already eaten.

Keep reading

a slap on the wrist

based on: when ur a gay and u say “thats gay” and a straight™ comes along and starts to lecture u on how offensive it is and then you hit them with that “im gay” so imagine that situation but with dex and shitty 
because the author of the above said to me “WRITE THE GAY FIC” and i thought that was a wonderful idea.

Keep reading

the world is quiet here

A/N: for Alice. prompt: ‘clarke tells bellamy he makes her happy’

This takes place in the weeks between 4.03 and 4.04.

Clarke overhears that Bellamy has returned from his hunting trip, and she immediately drops everything to go find him.

It could probably wait— it could definitely wait— but she’s been stressed the whole day. Seeing and talking to all the people she hasn’t put on the list has taken its toll. Knowing that she put herself on that list instead of one of them has made her increasingly distressed as the hours went by. Somehow, she just thinks if she catches a glimpse of Bellamy right now, she’ll be calmer. She won’t feel as alone. That’s all she needs— a glimpse. She’ll just drop by to say hello and then be on her way.

That’s all she needs. Really.

Clarke finds him helping Niylah and Raven in one of the storage rooms, where they’re busy preparing meat for storage. Bellamy has unloaded all the game from the day’s trip, and currently has his arms submerged up to the elbows in a bucket of sudsy water.

He glances up when she enters. As always, she feels a little wave of comfort when his dark eyes find hers. 

And all her plans to keep this to a ‘hello’ go out the window.

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anonymous asked:

hello!! may i please request for a friends-to-lovers for jeonghan? on the edge of my seat waiting for the rest of svt's *___* thank you!!

find woozi (here), wonwoo (here), jun (here), s.coups (here), dk (here), joshua (here) & the8 (here) ~!

  • jeonghan became your best friend when you two were in middle school,,,,but only a couple of years later before you were going to start high school together,,,,,he had to move away
  • luckily, you still kept up with each other through letters,,,,,even when you could have texted or video chatted
  • for some reason you and jeonghan agreed that snail mail was just more ,,,, personal and fun
  • and even though you’d get nervous that sometimes jeonghan wouldn’t answer the letter you sent,,,,he always did
  • and he always signed at the end with two lil angel wings around his name
  • because when you were younger his nickname among the teachers was the angel-like student,,,,which you always thought was adorable and jeonghan adamantly said he wasn’t an angel to you but then to the teacher’s he’d just smile and you’d just be like hMMM jeonghan i can see your wings sprouting
  • but it’s really cute,,,because you both just talk about your hobbies and new friends but you also,,,,keep inside jokes for years 
  • and it’s been a while but one day you get a letter for jeonghan and when you open it out falls a polaroid
  • and on it is ‘took this at a fair!! thought you might like to see it, my hair got longer didn’t it?’
  • and you’re like,,,,looking at this photo of jeonghan,,,,,,how he looks now
  • and you’re,,,,,,just in awe because
  • what,,,,,,,,,,,,,,since when did he really ACTUALLY start looking like an angel
  • not to mention his corny butt drew a halo over the photo as a reminder of his old nickname
  • and before you can even come to your senses you’re holding the polaroid of your best friend from middle school to your chest and you’re just like,,,,,,,,,,,,dammit he’s so cute,,,,,,,,,why is he soOO far away,,,,
  • which brings you to your next surprise because when you read the letter it says that jeonghan is going to bE MOVING BacK BECAUSE APPARENTLY THe COLLEGE HE GOT ACCEPTED TO is CLOSE To YOUR HOME TOWN
  • and you’re like oh MY GOD WHAT is THIS A SIGN
  • and in the letter he tells you to text him so you guys can meet up and you’re shaking as you hold your phone and press on his contact,,,,and you’re like ,,,,,oh my god jeonghan is going to SEE ME for the first time in a long time,,,,,holy ,,,, heifgkldsfa.,,,,,should i even text him or tell him i,,,,,,,moved abroad to avoid embarrassment kshdds
  • but it happens,,,,,and you and jeonghan agree to meet up at the park you used to go to as kids in a week since he’ll be in town to visit his college
  • and you’re waiting there, sitting on the swings and you can’t believe it,,,,,,that it’s really happening,,,,,that you’re seeing jeonghan again,,,,,,,
  • and suddenly you feel someone’s hands on your shoulders and you get startled but when you look back it’s,,,,jeonghan
  • but not the jeonghan from when you were young,,,,,,,the jeonghan from the polaroid 
  • handsome features,,,,,broader shoulders,,,,,but the same,,,,softness from his smile,,,,,
  • but then he sticks his tongue out and is like ‘do you want me to push you or do you want to keep staring at me?’
  • and you’re like gOD THIS IS WHY ALL THE TEACHERS CALLED YOU ANGEL AND YOU KNEW IT WASN’T TRUE YOU TEASE and he’s like chuckling
  • but then you turn back and jeonghan gives you a gentle push as you stretch your legs out to start swinging
  • and for the first hour,,,,it’s like you’re kids again!!! laughing on the swings together and it seems like all those years didn’t pass
  • and that you guys aren’t both?? becoming adults and that,,,,,,,,
  • when you look over to see jeonghan with his hair splayed over his face laughing so genuinely,,,,,,
  • you love him,,,,and seeing him happy always made you happy,,,,and as a kid you didn’t really know why but ,,,,, now,,,,
  • and jeonghan notices you’ve stopped swinging so he slows himself down too 
  • and he doesn’t say anything but you two look at each other and,,,,he breaks the silence only to ask you if you got the picture he sent in the mail
  • and you nod and jeonghan looks down,,,,smiling to himself and then he asks you why you never sent him photos of yourself the whole time you guys wrote letters
  • and you kind of go red and cling to the swing’s chain and shrug and mumble that you never,,,thought about it
  • and jeonghan says something that almost makes you think your ears are deceiving you he goes;
  • “did you not want me to see how beautiful you’ve gotten? did you think i’d drop everything and run back to you?”
  • and you blink,,eyes wide with surprise and you’re like n-no i- w-what do you mean???
  • and jeonghan tilts back his head in the swing and laughs and he’s like 
  • “did you think i’d fall for you and want to move back as quick as possible?”
  • and you’re like kldffs what,,,no-
  • and jeonghan suddenly looks back at you and is like, “well if you thought that you’d be right.”
  • and you can’t choose between leaning over to playfully poke him and tell him to stop joking around,,,,,,,or if you should lean over and just kiss him,,,,,
  • but jeonghan seems to read your mind,,,,because he sits up and is like “let’s do the one thing we could never do as friends-”
  • and he takes a hold your swing’s chain and pulls it closer so he can lean in and well,,,,,,,,,,
  • looks like it’s a good thing jeonghan’s going to college in this town because well how else would you get to see your boyfriend for cute cafe dates????? hehe,,,,,,,
“1940″ Chapter Two

(banner credit: @tiostyles​)

The one where you fall in love with a soldier named Alex.

Read Chapter One here

Swing, Baby!

April 1938

London, England

There was a childlike innocence about you when Alex first led the two of you inside – it took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim lights and your feet stopped just shy of the threshold. Eyes wide and lips parted just so, you took in the scene in front of you. Girls with big skirts twirled around on the dance floor, partners close in tow. The bass plucked out a steady beat you could feel thumping in your chest. Shouts and laughter were cascading throughout the room and there was a rather indescribable energy about the place.

Alex thumbed over your hand he’d so carefully held in his the entire walk here.

“Shall we?” he asked with a grin.

You eagerly nodded your head, causing Alex to chuckle beside you. The band strung out the last few notes of a song, and he led you to the edge of the dance floor, waiting for those exiting to walk off and take their spot. The dance floor was easily a few degrees warmer than the rest of the building, but with all of the energy and laughter, how could it not?

A man with a pinstripe suit walked over to the microphone on the band’s platform.

“Is everyone enjoying themselves?” he called out.

A roar of cheers and yells from the crowd of dancers answered him, and he signaled to the band to start again. The bass started up again, and with the wail of a trumpet, the people around you began to move.

“I might be a little rusty,” you spoke over the music, “It’s been quite a –,”

“I’ve got yeh, love,” Alex winked at you, “Gentlemen are supposed t’lead, remember?”

Before you could rattle off another response, he grabbed your hand and spun you, starting the momentum that would carry the pair of you through the dance. While it had been at least a year or so since you’d danced with a partner to this caliber, it very quickly came back to you.

Alex knew his steps as well, making it much easier to get into a rhythm. His hand held yours tightly as he twirled you, dipped you back, and sometimes when the music swelled just right, picked you up and spun you in the air. Laughs cried out from your mouth with no sign of stopping any time soon. The very nature of swing dancing is energetic and quick, allowing for little communication. Alex would whisper the names of the steps coming up next in your ear as you passed by, trusting he’d be there to catch you when you prepared to turn a new way.

You liked the way he felt strong around your waist, making sure you knew he was there to guide you. He was your anchor, and you were there to be shown off.

The two of you danced through many songs and were left breathless by the amount of energy you’d put out. As the night went on, the pairs dwindled down to only a few, including Alex and yourself.

It must have been nearing ten o’clock, as Alex kept glancing down at his wristwatch.

“One more dance, yeah?” he moved to your side and spoke into your ear over the chatter in the room, “Can’t have yeh home late, your pops would hang me!”

You turned to him, a fake pout on your lips, “I guess so,” you said reluctantly, being a bit dramatic in your tone. But, truth be told, you didn’t want to mind the curfew set in place. You didn’t want to leave Alex. This was the most free you’d felt in ages.

“Aw petal, don’t gimme tha’ look,” he bantered back, “Where’d my firecracker go?”

The band abruptly counted off another song, and you took your place – hands together with Alex, facing him and waiting for the right beat to start. He gave you a cheeky grin before sending you backward in a turn and quickly catching you back in his arms. Your laughs sounded like bells as the two of you twirled around each other and you knew you’d be sore in the morning, as your legs already felt wobbly.

The last note rang out and cheers erupted from the crowd and Alex looked down at his wrist once again. The fact that he was continuously checking warmed your heart just a bit – his cocky and boastful attitude was really just something of a cover. He really cared that he made a good impression on your father.

“C’mon, m’lady,” he took your hand in his and led you (begrudgingly) toward the door. The night air felt refreshing on your cheeks after being so warm.

Alex walked by your side, hand keeping a firm grip on yours. The two of you walked in silence on your way back – it wasn’t uncomfortable though. It felt right.

“I had a really lovely time tonight, Alex,” you broke the silence. His name still made your cheeks blush, and you were very glad it was too dark to notice. He was glad you couldn’t hear the way his heart was all but beating out of his chest.

“I did, too, y/n,” he took a quick glance over at you, biting back a grin as he said your name.

It was like the two of you were school children, not twenty-year-olds, with the way you were acting. Bashful, shy, and sweet.

“I’d love to go again, if you’d like to?” your tongue stumbled over the question, “Say, what time is it anyway?”

“F’course I’d love t’go again,” he laughed, “S’only just after half past nine o’clock.” His voice grew softer, sheepish almost.

“Only half past?” you stopped walking, “Alex! We could still be dancing! We still have –,”

Alex turned to face you and you looked up to meet his eyes, pout on your face authentic this time.
“Jus’ wanted to spend more time talkin’ with yeh, promise,” he said warmly, “Love dancin’ jus’ as much as the next, but yeh can’t learn about a person jus’ by the way they dance.”

“You sneaky crow,” you poked at him, “What do you want to know then, hm?”

Alex chuckled at your seemingly threatening manner, leading you towards a bench near your father’s storefront before continuing. You nervously throw a look over your shoulder to the windows of the shop, relieved when you see that the lights are off, and your family is tucked up in their flat.

“Still have a few minutes, don’t worry,” Alex said reassuringly, “M’keepin’ an eye on the time.”

He was still holding your hand as the two of you sat there, giving it a squeeze every so often to remind you that he was there.

“So, Mr. Alex Mason,” you announced, “What do you want to know?”

“Nothin’ specific, yeh could talk about the moon or a lad yeh saw walkin’ down the street the other day, and I’d be enamored.”

You laughed, “You sure you want to hear about the lads I’ve eyed walking down the road?”

“Need t’know who my competition is, don’t I?”

“Well in that case,” you let the words hang in the air, jokingly.

Alex’s face fell just slightly, “S’there…”

“Oh,” you shook your head, “No, no there’s no one! Heavens, no.”

“Jus’ checkin’, y/n,” he said with a wink, something you’d learned to be one of his everyday mannerisms, along with the way he’d rather precisely rub his nose twice mid-sentence…  

You caught yourself subconsciously staring at Alex. There was a pull between the two of you, its grip tight upon your shoulders. His lips fell silent as he studied over your face, features still prominent even in the dim light of the streetlamp a few feet away. He leaned in a bit closer and you couldn’t help but do the same. A shudder of butterflies ran through your stomach as the space between you became less and less obvious and Alex began to duck his head towards yours.

“Ah, there we are!” a voice you knew all too well called over towards the bench you were on.

Alex immediately backed away, an almost obnoxious amount of space now sat among you,

“F’course,” he whispered, shaking his head. Alex then offered his hand to you, and helped you to stand.

Walking hand in hand, you approached your father, standing expectantly in front of the store. The front light had been turned on, and he stood there with a warm smile on his face. You should have anticipated this happening – he loved hearing about your adventures more than anything, and as the eldest girl, he was a bit protective over you.

“Have a good night?” he asked excitedly, not minding the fact that he’d basically interrupted the date you’d been on.

“Very, you’ve got a lovely daughter, Mr. Hughes,” Alex boasted. You noticed he stood up a little straighter any time he was conversing with your father, and his voice spoke just a smidgen stronger.

“That I do,” your father turned to look at you, “I’ll be upstairs, make sure you lock up once you’ve bid your farewells?”

“Of course, goodnight Father,” you said with a grin, stepping over to give him a quick hug.

“Thank you for taking care of her, lad,” your father nodded toward Alex, reaching out to shake his hand, “Hope t’see you around the store sometime soon.”

That phrase was music to your ears, and you tried your best to hide the look of surprise on your face. You father said his last goodbyes of the night, and walked back inside the store.

Alex took your hands in his again, “Looks like this won’t be the last time yeh see me, hmm love?”

“Rats,” you said with a laugh, “Was hoping my dancing would be enough to drive you off!”

“Stop bein’ ridiculous,” he pursed his lips, furrowing a brow at you, “Would take a lot more than tha’ t’get me t’leave yeh.”

“Good,” you poked him square on the nose, “Like havin’ you around.”

“I quite like havin’ yeh ‘round, too, sweets.”

A quick silence fell over the two of you, and you tossed a look over your shoulder, back to the store where your family was probably waiting anxiously for you to get back to.

“I should go,” you spoke quietly, hands still intertwined with his, “I really did have a lovely time.”

You looked up to meet his vibrantly green eyes, seemingly glowing in the night light.

“I did too,” he unhooked your hands to place one of his on your cheek, caressing it softly. They felt different than when they were pressed into your back or holding you tightly dancing earlier that night – they were more gentle, tender, safe – “I’d very much like t’kiss yeh, but tha’s a bit rushed for the first date, yeh?”

“A gentleman, I see,” you teased him, sincerity glinting in your eyes, “Guess you’ll have to stick around a bit longer for that, hm?”

“Guess I will,” he couldn’t help but grin. You were such a catch.

“Goodnight, Mr. Mason.”

“And goodnight to you too, Miss Hughes.”

You took a small step back, hands falling to your sides. The grin that had been painted on your face for most of the night was still burning into your cheeks. You were confident it would be embedded in your features for days to come. It made your jaw sore, but the joy and happiness you felt was too much to contain.

Alex watched after you, that smirk hanging on his lips. The two of you didn’t exchange any words after that – he simply made sure you made it inside the shop and waiting for the light to turn off before he began his trek home.

***

Once inside the store, you took a moment to properly reflect on the night. There had been so many moments you wanted to be sure to remember forever – the song you first danced to, how it felt to hand his hand on the walk back home, the way he looked at you before you’d been interrupted by your father… You squeezed your eyes shut and willed yourself to commit them to memory. A yawn fell past your lips, and you decided it was a wise choice to retreat back to your room.

Slipping up the stairs as quietly as you could in your heels, you’d hoped to make little conversation with whomever would possibly still be awake this late. Lucky for you, your father had truly gone to bed when he’d left the two of you outside, and you were free to get dressed for bed on your own terms.

Once you’d battled through your now-knotted hair, taken the lipstick from your lips, and changed into your pyjamas, you let yourself fall back into your bed. Smile still perched happily on your face and memories reflecting through your mind, you drifted off peacefully to sleep, dreaming of the next time you’d see him.

It had been, quite possibly, the best night of your life.


Chapter Three to be posted on Sunday at 9 PM EST! 

Breaking your Rule

GOT7 Jinyoung x Reader
Genre: Smut/ Angst / Fluff
Warning: Explicit and Swear words
Word Count: 12k+

Summary: You had your rules. No dating or hooking up with any of your brother’s friends and that included housemates. You learned your lesson from the last time you were burned. But you saw no harm in flirting with his housemate Jinyoung and keeping up the sexual repartee.

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Laughing | Peter Parker

requested: yes

paring: peter parker x reader

summary: can the reader knowing Peter is Spiderman and begging him to let her try on the suit. He agrees and she gets stuck somehow and is like PETER HELP ME IM STUCK STOP LAUGHING DAMMIT

warnings: a sprinkling of swearing?

—————–

you and peter sat in his bedroom watching the princess bride. He was staring at the screen absentmindedly. You looked across at him laying next to you on the bed. You suddenly sat up, jolting him from his daydream.
“Peter” you said, crossing your legs and poking him.
“Yes” he answered turning to his side to face you.
“I think I should try on the spider suit” you smiled. Peter rolled his eyes and flipped back to his original position.
“We’ve talked about this, your gonna mess it up” peter whines flicking your shoulder. “Pete please” you whispered bending over and kissing his cheek repeatedly. He laughed “god I don’t know what I’m going to do with you- but yes fine” peter relented. You jumped up and squealed, pulling peter up with you. He grinned and went over to his closet and pulled out his suit. You clapped your hands in wild delight. Peter brought the suit with him as he sat on the edge of his bed. “Okay, you need to put this on really carefully and make sure you don’t touch much of it and don’t activate anything.” He sighed and looked at you alight with happiness. Before he could start another warning you grabbed the suit and rushed to the bathroom to put it on.
Putting it on was a struggle to say the least. It was super baggy at first but then you pressed that middle thingy and it was immediately your size. You looked in the mirror and struck a few mildly amusing poses. Once you were satisfied with your excellence you flung open the door, needlessly dramatic. You stood there and let peter take in all your glory.
Peter started laughing instantly. “What?” You cried out striking a pose “do I not look glorious, breathtaking or even fantastically amazing” you shouted in disbelief. He was cracking up “your- your- a hahahah” he cackled. You rolled your eyes and kicked him “well at least help me take this off it’s really sticky. ” you groaned, starting to feel self conscious with peters curly hair shaking so hard because of his chuckling. peter eventually stopped laughing and smiled “sure thang spider girl” you stuck out your tongue at him and tried to pull of the boot. It was really tight fitting and refused to be removed. You groaned and lifted you leg for peter to try. He snorted and sat on the bed holding your left calf. “Okay, I’ll pull and you’ll try to slide out of it. ” he smiled and took his position. You stepped back into yours. “Okay on three- one…..two…….three” you exclaimed. Peter promptly pulled and you tried to twist your foot out. However you lost your footing and ended up falling front face onto his carpet. Peter shouted and began to hysterically laugh. He doubled over in the bed his legs flailing ridiculously in the air. You moaned and glared at him while rolling over from your now bruised face. “PETER HELP ME IM STUCK, STOP LAUGHING DAMMIT” he literally slipped off the bed and clutched his stomach “I CANT BREATHE!” He shouted in between breathless cackles. “PETER FOR FUCKS SAKE IM GOING TO MURDER YOU” he slowly started to regain his sense of self and crawled over to you laying on the floor, mid tantrum. He mosied on over and collapsed next you. You crossed your arms and sat up cross legged. He gradually straightened up and put his head against yours “I’m sorry” he whispered and kissed you. You let him and sank into it. Then you felt him start to smile against your lips. Then he started laughing again. “I just- I keep remembering it” he howled. “PETER!”

not a crush

requested by: @tonight-couldbeforgettable

summaryYou and Peter are always in competition with one another to see who’s smart enough to come out on top. But once you get paired with your “enemy” for a large project, you find out that there’s way more to Peter Parker than meets the eye.

pairings: peter parker x reader 

word count: 1.7k 

a/n: this was the cutest shit to write y’all, i’m telling you. i missed writing fics with my precious peter in them. xx


You twirled your pen restlessly in between your fingers while listening intently for your chemistry teacher to announce who got the highest grade on the test last week. You had studied for hours, weeks on end, to come out on top of this one–you were not going to let Parker take it from you this time.

The two of you had all of your classes together, much to your dismay. You were always the best, always the smartest, until this semester started and this kid began giving you a run for your money. Every class became a contest to see who was better.

Your eyes flickered over to where he sat in the row next to you, and he was just as on edge as you were–his hands tightly gripped the edge of his desk. Before you could return your gaze to the front of the class, his eyes suddenly moved to meet yours.

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Live Stream Lullaby

Pairing: Teamiplier X Reader

Request: Hmmmm…..maybe something along the lines of reader hanging out with Teamiplier during a livestream and they fall asleep and everyone else wants to draw on them but one of the members won’t allow it (you choose the ‘protective’ member) :)
I just think that’d be super cute

Warnings: slight swearing, fluff

A/N: first post for my lovely friends @punkyoutubertrash and @mrenee15


Mark looked at you as he talked, still rubbing Chica’s fur. You rolled your eyes as he winked playfully. You took a sip of your water, making a grabby hand at Chica. Her tail wagged happily as you sat next to her. Chica turned away from Mark, placing her had on your lap.

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Capture and Effect (J.M)

Description - When live on YouNow, fans capture Jonah’s face while looking at you and rumors spread like wildfire.
Warning: Jonah being a smol bean, that’s it


The Marais family was practically your family. You grew up next to them all your life and everything they went through, you went through.

Like when Jonah announced that he’d be moving to L.A to share a house with his four other band mates. You, along with his family, were devastated. Jonah was your best friend, your ride or die, the Clyde to your Bonnie. But then he left and returned ever so often. Of course, you’d visit him a few times but it wasn’t the same.

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Sharing (Jungkook and Hoseok threesome)

Originally posted by queen-jinnie

Description: Hoseok reveals his fantasy of sharing you with another man for a night and Jungkook seems to be the perfect candidate.

Basically: Hella dirty smut where Hoseok conducts his kinky fantasies with you and Jungkook.

Pairings: Hoseok x You x Jungkook

Genre: Smut, angst

This fic contains: Explicit smut, cum play, vulgar and demeaning words, threesomes, oral, bad language, just kinkiness in general, Jungkook being hot and Hoseok being hot.

A/N: This is technically part 2 to Wanted, but you don’t need to read that to read this, it just gives you more insight into Jungkook’s feelings. 

Also, it’s done! @hobitaki and @notjhope

A threesome? The thought had never crossed your mind- not since you started dating Hoseok. You know your boyfriend is kinky. Fuck he’s kinky. But still, you sat there, perplexed as you forced a neutral tone that chapped at your lips.

“A threesome?” He nods, smiling at you patiently. “With another man?” Your calm expression cracks as you ask the question, making him chuckle- a sound that could convince you to do nearly anything.

“Yes, with a man.” He says gently, reaching forward and resting his head in his palm to look at you, sitting opposite him, with a confusing admiration- like a lovesick puppy. His other hand covers yours, giving it a squeeze. “Just say no if you want, you don’t need to hesitate on my behalf. I understand if the idea is a bit… strange to you.”

“It’s not a strange idea.” You say quickly, dismissing that as the reason you’re weary.

A waiter walks up next to your table, halting you from asking your next question. Hoseok smiles at you mischievously, knowing the blush on your face was placed there simply because of the man bringing you your coffees arrival while you were having a conversation about threesomes. You muster a ‘thank you’, turning back to your sly smiled boyfriend with an unintentional frown.

“What was I saying?” You question, taking a sip of your coffee.

“I don’t know, babe. You seem a bit flustered.” He says cockily.

As much as you deny it, he knows how attractive you find him when he gets like this. You scoff at him, nearly spitting out your coffee. He laughs unbelievingly at you, one of his hands suddenly sneaking onto your knee under the table.

He leans in, making you fold and lean in as well, without even realizing it until his breath is on your nose, making your cheeks even hotter.

“Are you like this because of the thought of me sharing you with another man?”

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