chair kick

Me: *kicks down shitty McDonalds door* gimme the fucking McPounder
McDonalds Employee: t-that’s forbidden knowledge………………
Me: *kicking over chairs and screaming as the employee runs backstage and calls the mcpolice on my ass*

pjo musical: the rundown

so i went to see the lightning thief with @angelicomma yesterday and um. oKAY GUYS GALS AND NONBINARY PALS LEMME TELL U ABOUT THIS MOTHER!FUCKIN! SHOW!!!! because it was SO GOOD this is just like. the short list of what i loved about it because oh my god 

prepare for the longest post ever 

  • the set was such an aesthetic? it was all very metallic like there was scaffolding and greek columns with graffiti on them? it was very chb and very nyc and overall a Blessing 
  • every time they needed to show a different location they’d do it with the lights so like there were these lights lining the scaffolding that would change color ?? in the underworld they’d flash red, yellow and orange and were made to look like fire and near the ocean theyd be blue and if they were talking about trees itd be green and! if they wanted u to focus on a certain part of the scaffolding it’d be a different light color than any of the other parts which was rad af
  • the overhead lights were used really well too like when percy was singing about being the son of poseidon or when there was water the lights would be blue and when they were in the forest theyd be green
  • there is an entire song about how they hate new jersey and how they refuse to die in the garden state. know this
  • the show was very low budget like oh my god it was great
  • they didnt make some of their own props so sally walked in once with a trader joe’s bag and also the most important bag in the world (containing the master bolt) was a fucking jansport 
  • their representation of water was just to attach toilet paper rolls to leaf blowers and turn the overhead lights blue like what even
  • they covered the first 4 rows in toilet paper at one point 
  • also they fuckin deca-casted everyone except for percy (chris mccarrell, the light of my life actually he was so good) 
  • jonathan raviv played chiron, auntie em, random chb girl in a bike helmet and braids (?), random tractor guy (?), a bus driver, a train conductor, hades, and poseidon and im probably missing someone. he had very distinctive characters for all of them not to mention horse puns 
    • “the gods are kind of dicks”
    • medusa’s eyes were just light up swim goggles
  • sarah beth pfeifer, who probably has the best comic timing ive seen ever, played clarisse, katie gardner, a fucking squirrel?, mrs. dodds, lotus casino girl, random camper assistant to mr. d, and thalia 
    • *chases annabeth down a flight of stairs with a sword while screaming* 
    • “for their sixteenth birthdays my friends all got cars. I got a fern and a mason jar!” 
    • “ARROWS ARE MADE WITH WOOD. I REFUSE TO PARTICIPATE IN AN ACTIVITY THAT CONDONES VIOLENCE AGAINST OUR ARBOR BRETHREN!”
  • they had the most roles and they were GREAT 
  • george salazar was such a wonderful grover and mr d oh man 
    • mr d’s whole gag was he’d kick a chair when he got pissed which was hysterical bc the camper assistant would start pouting every time and he also wanted to turn percy into a dolphin 
    • “grover, are you ever going to wear pants again?” “NOPE!” 
    • his solo song was about thalia and how he couldnt save her talk about EMOTIONAL he cried
    • dam jokes
      • we might have more drachmas if you didnt spend them on those DAM SNACKS” “HEY! IT WAS THE HOOVER DAM” 
  • let me talk about. carrie compere for like multiple hot seconds bc GODDAMN GIRL CAN SANG 
  • she was such a good sally. can she be my mom. she sang a song abt percy being special and wonderful and i got a lil teary 
    • “you saved my life, percy. It’s time i learned how to live it.” cryin g 
  • her silena was really funny? like very whiny but very funny.
    •  “every time i bring a boy home, my mom’s there in her nightie […] she steals my mascara and all my dates!” 
  • she also played sort of charon? underworld guide in this awesome gold dress (she looked SO GOOD) who smacked grover’s goat ass (?????) 
    • “you know, bringing people to the underworld isn’t my only job. I also have a band. wanna hear a demo?” “not really?” “sorry, i can’t hear you over this SWEET ASS RIFF” 
    • We got everyone! we got kurt kobain, we got beethoven. any requests?” “um, do you have josh groban?” “we will.” 
  • JAMES! HAYDEN ! RODRIGUEZ! was sO GOOD AS LUKE
  • THERE WAS A GOOD KID REPRISE AND I WAS SHOOKEN 
    • “being a good kid gets you nowhere at all” bruh 
  • they couldn’t have a scorpion onstage so luke just. fucking stabs percy in the back??? 
  • He was also a really funny ares and gabe!! 
  • ok and my gal KRISTIN STOKES 
    • fun fact abt me and kristin stokes ….. so we were walking in the same direction after stage door and so me and @angelicomma just walked with her….to the train…. she gave us dessert recs…… and talked about the show (she’s so salty about how rangey her big solo is but trust me she was so good on that song) and also waitress with us…. it was the best experience of all time she is so nice and cool and was wearing jurassic park leggings how rad is she oh my god
    • her annabeth? was awesome? she was witty and tough and aggressive and i was ABOUT IT 
    • she called out sexism all the damn time 
      • “annabeth, i get it. do you know how many schools i’ve been kicked out of?” “yeah, percy, but when boys mess up they get a second chance.” 
      • “hey, annabeth, who’s your dad?” “he’s a history professor.” “i thought everyone’s dad was-” “a god? that’s my mom. sexist.” 
        • longest yeah boi ever 
    • the moment where she betrayed luke at the end??? YES GIRL
  • chris mccarrell was such a perfect percy i am elated 
    • “Tartarus? LIKE THE FISH SAUCE???!!!?!?!” 
    • *swings riptide like a lightsaber while making lightsaber noises* 
    • *packages medusa’s head* “To Mount Olympus. Signed, Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase.” “the gods will think we’re impertinent!” “*winning smile* we are impertinent.” 
    • *pouts* “i know how to hold a sword! like this!” annabeth corrects him and he swings it “oh wow actually that’s a lot easier” 
    • in good kid he was like? running around the stage and climbing the scaffolding and shit? and i cried??? the no mom line was the WORST i wanted to actually scream and his voice is so pretty 
    • and he was so shook by his own powers oh man 
    • he was just. so good at the twelve year old thing it was fantastic he was all fidgety and Dramatic ™ god bless
    • he loves sally so much!!! all the demigods were salty af abt their parents and he was just quietly singing like “my mom loves hugs and scary movies” and i just. screamed quietly
  • there were rlly cute percabeth moments too. 
    •  percy’s knocked tf out the first time annabeth meets him (she infiltrates his dream a lil) and he sings a lil song abt how she’s beautiful and stuff and he wakes up and she’s all “YOU DROOL IN YOUR SLEEP” shook 
    • she shows up at capture the flag (percy hasnt officially met her yet) and he points at her and was just “gasps YOURE MY DREAM GIRL!” and annabeth side-eyes him hardcore and he goes “UM. THE GIRL. FROM MY DREAM.” 
    • “the god is my mom. sexist.” “NO NO I LOVE GIRLS!” annabeth is shook yet again and percy panics and is like “I MEAN UM THEYRE VERY NICE” 
      • percy gets serious side eye from luke
      • it’s great  
    • when percy gets stabbed they almost kiss and then grover RUNS ONSTAGE “HEY! here’s your ambrosia percy” goddamn it was DRAMATIC
  • im definitely missing shit but oh boy it was so so good
  • i’d kill a man for that soundtrack  
  • if you have the chance (and the money) it’s just. such an Experience and everything i could have ever dreamed of. the cast is great (and theyre all so freakin NICE s/o to kristin especially). 
  • i’d highly recommend it!!! A+ 1000/10
Baby girl

CEO!Ash - This is pure fucking filth alright

Words: 6.1k

“Miss y/n, what’s your input on this?”

You heard your colleague’s voice in the background. But you didn’t react to it. You were focused on something else. Rather someone else. Your boss, that was sitting on the other end of the table, twisting and twirling a pen between his long, slender fingers. He was completely staring at you, head cocked to one side in a rather smug attitude. He was young, not much older than you. Only by a year or two. It always amazed you how successful he was for his age, but with that charm - although he most of the time radiated arrogance… and that smile, his success did not surprise you.

You’d lie if you said you weren’t attracted to him. Hell, that man could have his way with you without you even questioning it, you wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, you wanted it. You wanted him to fuck you, and by judging the look he was giving you, you understood he knew that, too. What made your chest rise and your heartbeat increase, was the fact that he tugged on the collar of his shirt. Then, he gazed up at you again, and the look he was shooting you this time made you weak. He wanted it, too.

“Miss?” your colleague repeated.

Keep reading

BTS as things my friends have said at the cinema...
  • Seokjin: It's so dark in here... I spent like an hour on my make-up and no one can even see it
  • Yoongi: *falls asleep and wakes up at the end of the movie* That was a crap film
  • Hoseok: *is the only person in the room laughing at a joke* wow, that's funny! *starts applauding really loudly*
  • Namjoon: I'm not crying, okay? This is a kids movie and the characters aren't even that likeable so don't accuse me of crying, alright? *wipes away a tear*
  • Taehyung: I can't believe this is my fourth time watching this movie and it's only been showing for a week
  • Jimin: I'm gonna pretend that the guy in front of me isn't eating his popcorn at an unreasonable volume and that the kid behind me isn't kicking my chair *fake smile*
  • Jungkook: Called it! *jumps up and nearly knocks over his drink* I fucking told you that would happen!
  • me: I'm so fuckin *kicks chair* GAY
  • me: dude I'm gay
  • me: I'm THE MOST gay
  • me: I'm the gayest
  • me: girls are so beautiful to me, you know why? because I'm GAY
  • me: I'm-
  • them: let me guess
  • me: what
  • them: you're gay
  • me: HOW THE FUCK DID YOU KNOW
When Duty and Desire Meet Chapter 4

Art by @edendaphne , words by moi!

Summary: After their accidental kiss on Valentine’s day, both Marinette and Chat Noir have to deal with the emotional fallout of their actions.

Read on AO3
Read on tumblr

~

Valentine’s Day Part 2

“So, let me get this straight,” Alya said, leaning back against Marinette’s desk chair and steepling her fingers. Beside her, on a little table-cushion Marinette had made, Tikki slept soundly, having already heard the story a thousand times over. “You’re in love with Chat Noir.”

“You already knew that,” Marinette groaned from her chaise, hugging a cushion to her chest and leaning back like a Freudian patient. Lord knows she was about three sentences away from a therapy-inducing hissy fit regardless, so it was probably prudent of her to be lying down in such a way. She was preparing for her inevitable breakdown that’s all. It was the smart thing to do.

And she rarely did the smart thing nowadays it seemed, so she really needed this.

“You’ve been in love with Chat as Ladybug for like a bajillion years,” Alya continued, ignoring Marinette as she continued to rehash pointless details. Details which made Marinette want to bludgeon herself to death with her cushion.

It was most likely impossible to do such a thing but she was never one to back down from a challenge. Death by cushion- she’d find a way.

“Yes. We’ve already established that,” she replied through gritted teeth, said cushion slowly creeping up to cover her face.

“But last night you kissed him by accident,” Alya said.

“Uh-huh.”

“As Marinette.”

“That is correct sir,” Marinette wiggled a finger.

“And he gave you a rose and kissed you back.”

“Tru’ dat.”

It was indicative of Marinette’s deteriorating mental state that she’d said “Tru’ dat”. She’d never said “Tru’ dat” in her whole life.

“I see,” Alya nodded a few times. The fact her tone had remained neutral the whole time was doing nothing to help Marinette’s poor nerves, and so she swung her legs over the side of her chaise, sitting up to get a better view of Alya’s twinkling eyes. A sense of dread settled in Marinette’s stomach. Alya’s eye-twinkles were never a good thing, at least when they were directed towards her.

I see?! Is that all you have to say? Seriously?! I thought you’d be freaking out right now, I mean I’m freaking out but then I ALWAYS freak out. You not freaking out is making me freak out harder! Can you please freak out with me? Join me in the freak out zone already!” Marinette blabbed, waving her arms and promptly dropping the cushion to the ground.

Alya said nothing, instead choosing to raise an eyebrow at her and cross her legs. At least she’d stopped steepling her fingers, Marinette thought gruffly.

After a short pause, Alya finally spoke, but her voice wobbled and strained unnaturally, her lips thinned in a way that was entirely too suspicious. “Firstly, stop saying freak out, secondly I’m not freaking out because this is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

She barely made it to the end of her sentence before she doubled over and descended into giggles.

It was in that moment that Marinette realised Alya’s peculiar behaviour had been due to her hiding her amusement, and she felt fully justified in yanking the cushion from its position on the floor and hurling it towards her supposed ‘best friend forever.’

Unfortunately, Alya dodged the fluffy projectile with ease.

“Come on, this is serious! I’m in hot water here!” Marinette cried, crossing her arms across her chest.

“When are you not though? Let’s be real,” the redhead shot back with a wry grin, twirling in the chair and kicking backwards to check her hair in the small vanity mirror on Marinette’s desk. The sight made Marinette relax a little. Alya only checked her hair with such scrutiny when she was seriously contemplating something.

Suddenly missing the comforting embrace of the cushion, Marinette flopped down once more. As her back hit the large pillows adorning her chaise, she let out a long sigh and all the fear, the panic, the fight, left her in one fell swoop. Only tiredness and uncertainty remained.

“How am I going to face him?” she whispered. Her head tilted towards her small, round window, to the afternoon sun beaming down in a total antithesis to her feelings. She wondered where Chat Noir was at that moment.

Did she cross his mind?

Over the years Marinette had asked herself that question more times than she could count. But it was different now. Now she wondered if Chat thought of her, of Marinette, not of Ladybug. Did he dwell on it- how they’d kissed? She had. She’d thought about it all night, until exhaustion had finally overcome her and she’d woken up late, cold, wanting something she could barely comprehend.

For years, she’d thought about what it would mean to kiss Chat Noir, Dark Cupid incident aside considering she couldn’t even remember it.

A small, involuntary whimper left her when she recalled the night before. The kiss had been an accident… at first. But the second she felt Chat’s lips press into hers was burned into her memory, playing over and over again. The moment he returned her kiss had ignited something dormant inside her and she felt raw, emotions exposed and unlocked, with nowhere to hide.

She considered her question again. How on earth could she face him as Ladybug, knowing what she did, knowing him the way he didn’t know he knew her (and god wasn’t that sentence confusing in and of itself)?

For God’s sake Marinette, it was a peck of a kiss at the most, pull yourself together!

“You’ll figure it out.”

Alya’s voice sounded lightyears away, so stuck was Marinette in her own musings. She jumped, a little sheepishly, and realised she hadn’t noticed Alya coming over to her until the spinning desk chair was pressed right by the chaise. The next moment, Alya’s hands were in her hair. Having thoroughly fixed her own short curls, she now concentrated on the silky strands of Marinette’s loose locks, braiding little plaits as if they were children at a sleepover.

Marinette let her. Two perfectly groomed heads were better than one.

“You think you can talk to him about it? As you I mean, not Ladybug,” Alya suggested, quickly clarifying her meaning whilst tugging the red ribbons loose from Marinette’s dark hair.

Snorting in response, Marinette couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Talk? To Chat? The very idea…

“Yeah sure, let me just tweet at him Ayla. Hashtag balcony make-outs,” she giggled, feeling a little better as her hair fell around her shoulders.

Foregoing the braids, Alya reached up and began tying something new into Marinette’s hair, tutting in disapproval. “Slide into the DM’s at least girl, I raised you better than that.”

They shared a laugh, settling into a comfortable silence as Alya worked on both sides of her hair. Marinette sat back and mulled over her options. Truth be told she didn’t have many. She couldn’t talk to Chat, after all it wasn’t likely he’d be back and she had no idea who he was in real life. The notion that she could talk to him as Ladybug, thus revealing herself, made her rapidly descend into a panic so sharp that she quickly pushed that thought to the side.

Really there was nothing else to do but call it what it was. A blip. A crazy alignment of stars which had given her a taste of everything she’d wanted for the past four years, a reminder that it was probably all she was going to get.

She tried not to let the disappointment settle in her bones, yet it was fruitless. Her chest ached as though a hole had been carved there.

Suffice to say it was a familiar ache where Chat was concerned, but it was bigger now.

“There. Done,” Alya pulled back, pleased with her work, and Marinette stood. Stepping over to the vanity mirror, she leaned down to check her reflection. “Matching colours for you and the bae,” she teased, eyebrows wiggling from underneath her rounded glasses.

Marinette threw the cushion at her again, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction as it smacked her right in the face.

At the very least, she had the Gaming Club that night, that would provide a very welcome distraction.

***

Adrien was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Which was ironic, considering he’d joined the Gaming Club to avoid that exact thing from happening.

“I can’t do this, I’m going to cancel,” he whimpered, hiding out in the bathroom a floor above their usual meeting place like the coward he was.

“So cancel,” Plagg shrugged, busy amusing himself with unfurling a roll of toilet paper- as per his usual hobby.

“I can’t cancel!” Adrien replied, horror struck as he gazed at himself in the mirror. His fingers gripped the sides of the sink so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Are you insane?!”

“So don’t cancel,” Plagg’s disinterested monotone was really starting to grate on him. “Honestly kiddo what do you want me to say and will it get me food faster?”

The resounding groan from Adrien’s throat was so despairing in nature that he was afraid he’s start rumours of a ghost haunting the building. He leaned on his elbows, burying his face into his hands.

Stupid. He’d been so, so, stupid. And reckless! Totally reckless. What had he been thinking?!

It was worth it though, a small, unchecked part of him thought. Adrien squashed it flat in an instant. After all there was no time to consider the fluttering in his chest, the pleasant swoop of his stomach. Now was the time to face the consequences of his actions. His incredibly foolish, totally moronic actions.

Because, although a part of him ignited, burned in the best possible way, at the memory of Marinette’s lips against his own, another part felt thoroughly ashamed. It felt like he was tricking her in some way. Granted that had never been his intention. His plan had been simple. Leave the rose on her balcony for her to discover. She’d never know it was him and be happy at the gift from a secret admirer. Obviously, things hadn’t worked out the way he planned, though he should have anticipated that.

When had things ever gone the way he planned?

He needed to apologise to her, as Chat, and he was going to do so that night in fact. But before that Adrien needed to pretend, he needed to lie, to Marinette. To the girl he loved. He needed to act like he hadn’t heard her soft sigh, felt the warmth of her skin and the taste of her cherry-blossom lips. He had to fake it, act like it had never happened.

He had to pretend he didn’t desperately want it to happen again.

The idea of being so fake made him ill, and so he placed his hands under the cold water tap to splash his face, allowing the iciness of the water to penetrate his senses and offer him some much-needed clarity.

It didn’t really work but it was the best he could do.

When he entered the Gaming Club, Plagg tucked securely inside his jacket pocket, he was relieved to see Marinette talking to other people. He could barely look at her, the meagre glimpse he’d gotten from across the room had sent his heart cartwheeling down the corridor and somewhere into the next arrondissement.

Not wanting to look suspicious, and fully admitting that he was stalling for time, Adrien wandered over to the desk where Nino was hooking up an old Nintendo console for one of their signature Mario Kart nights.

Mario Kart…Marinette…partners… sitting close together… oh no.

“Hey bro!” Nino chirped, offering Adrien a fist to bump, clearly not noticing how the blood had completely drained from his friend’s face. “Everything ok?”

“H-hey! Everything’s good!” The first lie of the evening. How could Adrien have forgotten it was a Mario Kart night? More importantly, how was he going to survive the evening now? Sitting next to Marinette, shoulders pressed together, watching her tongue poke out in concentration like it normally did? How could he concentrate on anything knowing how close he’d been to said tongue the night before?

Grow up Adrien! You aren’t some horny teenager and Marinette isn’t a prize to be objectified. Show her some respect already!

If Nino had thought Adrien’s reaction was strange, he didn’t show it. Together they settled into an easy conversation, Adrien helping his friend set up the old console. Focusing on such a menial task did wonders for his nerves. He was almost starting to feel normal. Almost.

Of course, just as he was beginning to relax, Marinette had to tap him lightly on the shoulder.

She might as well have given him a 1.21 gigawatt electric shock, given his reaction to both was about the same. If he’d been Chat Noir at the time, his superpowers might have actually propelled him through the ceiling.

“A-Adrien?” Marinette tilted her head, taken aback by his startled shriek. “Are you ok?”

Subconsciously, Adrien’s hand reached up and he clutched his chest, fingers burying into his jumper as if it would cure the frantic beating of his wild heart.

Because she was there, right in front of him. Marinette. The girl he’d kissed last night.

His eyes flicked down to her lips before he could help himself.

“Adrien?”

The second time her voice permeated through his cloudy mind, something snapped inside of him. It was as if he were a character in a film, once played in slow motion, now fast-forwarding.

“Hey!” he cried, louder than he intended, and the people around him turned to stare. He looked at her eyes instead, with far more intensity than normal, mainly because he was so intent on not looking at her lips any more. “Marinette! It’s my friend- Marinette! My good friend, I’m good! How are you? You good- good? Yeah, I’m good, friend. How are you? Did you have a good Valentine’s day?”

WHAT?! Adrien’s brain-filter kicked in far too late, but began screaming at him nonetheless. Why would you ask her that? WHY?! You know how it went! YOU WERE THERE!

Marinette blinked, and it proved just how far gone he was that he found her blinking adorable.

Her blinking.

“Umm,” she blushed, unsure of what to say and, honestly, Adrien couldn’t blame her. He sounded insane even to his own ears, and he’d just asked her something quite private. Actually, he was surprised she wasn’t berating him for it. Then again, she thought he didn’t know about her encounter with Chat Noir.  His words may have seemed innocent to her ears.

What a mess Adrien had gotten himself into, and it only seemed to grow worse with every bit of word-vomit he expelled.

(Was it bad that he felt a tiny bit of pride at her blushing? Probably. But he was going to hell anyway so he might as well enjoy the slow descent at least a little bit.)

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Marinette glanced baffled at Nino, whom Adrien could see shrugging from his peripheral vision.

But he couldn’t care less.

Because he’d just noticed her hair. Or, more specifically, how she was wearing it.

In place of the red ribbons usually tied into her loose black locks, were two green ones instead. Vivid green. Chat Noir green.

His brain collapsed in on itself.

“I’m good-good too.”

Marinette was teasing him. She was grinning and she had green ribbons in her hair and Adrien was going to DIE.

“Good! That’s good!”

Great. He’d always wanted to die sounding like a partially strangled mongoose.

Marinette, mercifully, took pity on him and waved a controller in his face, offering him a place in the first race of the evening. He sighed, relaxing a little, but only a little. Gaming was fine. It was a welcome distraction, as long as he didn’t sit too close to her he’d be fine (who was he kidding? Of course he was going to sit close to her). At least, when he was focused on blue shells and Bullet Bills his brain couldn’t fixate on the meaning behind Marinette’s ribbons, if there was any hidden symbolism he was missing.

Suddenly the thought of seeing her that night, of apologising, seemed that much more dangerous- forbidden almost. But he had to do it. He owed it to her as her friend. Even if that’s all he could ever hope to be.

Nino still hadn’t finished setting up, and a few other members began helping him in their eagerness to get started. As a result, Adrien found himself more alone with Marinette than ever.

They sat down on the floor, controllers in hands, side by side. Their shoulders brushed, like they always did.

Adrien swallowed, wishing he’d worn a t-shirt instead of the woollen monstrosity currently overheating him.

He was fairly sure he was going to lose the game spectacularly.

His fears were proved right when, later that evening, Marinette’s knee brushed against his own and he ended up sending Donkey Kong careening off the end of Rainbow Road.

It was going to be a long night.

***

For the fifteenth time that evening, Marinette called herself an idiot.

Because she was an idiot. An idiot for standing on her balcony, an idiot for hoping lightning would strike twice in the same spot, an idiot for following her heart…

Tightly wrapping her cardigan around her, she gazed out into the mocking skyline. The bitterness of the cold February air was nothing compared to the bitterness she felt building up like sludge in her chest. Bitterness in her fortunes, bitterness in her decisions, bitterness in her own feelings.

Distantly, Marinette thanked the stars that at least it wasn’t as cold as it usually was. She was thankful she had a tiny shred of dignity left at least- that she wasn’t freezing to death in the vain hope that Chat Noir would show up again.

She reached up, fingers brushing against her lips, and remembered.

Furious with herself, Marinette shook her head, as if the rough gesture would expel all the unwanted memories from her mind. Honestly what was she doing acting like a silly sixteen-year-old with a crush? Again?! It was desperate, obsessive, ridiculous-

And totally in character if she was being honest with herself.

She needed a break. A breather. A respite from her own whirlwind emotions regarding the man in the black mask, the man who’d held her heart for longer than she cared to admit to anyone- not even Alya.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Marinette let out one last frustrated sigh before turning on her heels and making her way back to her room. Maybe her room would be less of a reminder, would save her from her torment.

But, as usual, fate had other plans for her.

Because, of course, Chat Noir happened to be standing there as if he’d suddenly popped into existence.

The shock of seeing him sent Marinette stumbling backwards with a cry, tripping over a flowerpot and tumbling to the ground.

“Whoa!” Chat called, rushing forward to catch her just in time. One hand gripped her flailing wrist, the other pressed against the small of her back as he pulled her towards him.

For a moment, both of them froze in place. Chat’s fingers splayed across her back, and she briefly felt the edges of his clawed-gloves scratching gently against the fabric of her cardigan. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine before she could control it.

Chat’s eyes widened and he stepped out of their half-embrace with awkward, jittery movements, casting his face away from hers. “Sorry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry I shouldn’t have startled you. I guess I have a bad habit.”

Bad habit huh? Marinette had one of those too.

The silence which settled on them both was heavy, uncomfortable, and borderline unbearable. It was laden with memories of the night before, swirling around them, echoing in their minds as though they were standing in an empty theatre, watching their mistakes projected on a screen with no means of escape.

Because it was a mistake… wasn’t it? She hadn’t meant to kiss him, he probably regretted kissing her back. That was why he was here- of that she was sure. To think he was here for any other reason was just asking for a broken heart.

But, oh god, it hadn’t been a mistake. Not to her. She couldn’t ever consider it to be such.

Finally, Marinette could take the silence no longer. Taking a deep breath, she fixed a smile onto her face, painted a picture of a girl who had herself together at least a little, and placed a hand on her hip.

“No rose tonight?”

Chat’s cat-ears twitched. He peered over at her with a puzzled frown before he realised she was teasing. Something dark crossed his eyes and Marinette forgot how to breathe. The look was gone before she could concentrate on it fully, and she found that he was smiling back at her.

“Err, n-no. No. That is- I mean- unfortunately not,” he replied with his signature bow. “But I do have something far more important.”

“Oh really?” Marinette squeaked, inwardly cringing at how lame she sounded. She’d wanted her voice to be sensual and teasing, but instead it sounded like she’d inhaled a ton of helium instead. Clearing her throat, she tried again, arching her eyebrow for good measure and all the while thrilled at the fact that he was simply there. Chat Noir was there. He’d come back to her. “What’s that?”

“An apology.”

Marinette’s blood ran cold.

“About last night,” Chat continued, shuffling from foot to foot, completely unaware of how Marinette’s body, mind, and heart had seized up all at once. “I feel like I made a terrible impression. I- well- I’m not the type of guy to do… what I did.”

From the depths of despair and panic, Marinette felt the faintest hints of confusion. She latched onto it. Confusion was better than rejection.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice small and vulnerable, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Well I’m not really a playboy or anything, despite what the media likes to speculate about me. I don’t kiss strangers on balconies. I guess, I didn’t want you to have the wrong impression about me.”

When Marinette hung her head, Chat felt a wave of regret wash over him. He’d practiced what he wanted to say, over and over again but it never seemed enough to fully explain himself- not without revealing to her that he was Adrien Agreste and he’d been lying to her this entire time. He was too afraid of the ramifications of that- so he needed to end this now- before he hurt her.

Damn it, he’d gotten so close though. So close to knowing what they could have- what they could be.

But it was a fantasy. Chat Noir was a large part of him, but it wasn’t all of him. The person he was behind the mask was locked away from Marinette, was a separate entity in her eyes.

Who was he fooling? They couldn’t be together. Not like this.

He had to try harder as Adrien and if she rejected him he would simply pick up the pieces of his broken heart. He would respect her, be her friend, move on, and certainly not use Chat Noir’s hero status as a means to trick her into loving him. She deserved better, deserved the world, even if he wasn’t the one to give it to her.

That’s why he had to leave. Right now. Being here, being this close to her, was crumbling his resolve. Every cute gesture she made was another step closer to his damnation. He had to leave before he said or did something he’d regret, before his principles were lost to the wind.

“It was Valentine’s day. I guess… it’s easy to get swept up in the romance of the day, right?” Marinette said. She was smiling, but the sparkle in her eyes was dulled somehow. Once again Chat’s attention was drawn to the green ribbons in her hair, as she quickly tucked a few strands behind her ears. He couldn’t bring herself to speak as she grew distant, deep in her own thoughts, and her shoulders raised. “But if we’re being honest Chat, I was worried you’d see me in a bad light too. Like- I mean- I’m not the kind of girl who kisses random celebrities and I’m certainly not the type to blab to the press about it either.”

“I didn’t ever think you were,” he uttered, swallowing thickly, and a little bit of sparkle returned to Marinette’s eyes. Her cheeks turned pink again.

Chat felt his claws digging painfully into his palms.

“Well… that’s a relief. I mean I always admired you,” Marinette stammered out the confession before she meant to, quickly covering her blunder with half-truths. “You know you saved me once- from an akuma. You didn’t notice me at the time, and it was years ago, but I never forgot.”

Chat felt as though he’d been physically struck by her words.

He’d saved her? He’d saved Marinette? And he hadn’t noticed her?!

“I wish I’d seen you,” he said before he could help himself. The rest of his desires remained unsaid, as new possibilities, new what ifs, formed in his mind- like an alternate reality.

Chat inwardly cringed. No way in hell was he going to get any sleep that night.

“I wish you’d seen me too,” Marinette admitted.

Chat’s hand was halfway to hers before he yanked it back, his heart beating wildly, his mind screaming at him to leave. The pull was almost tangible, magnetic, drawing him closer to her. It was dangerous, and he needed to leave.

“I hate to be a sundae, but I have to split!” he laughed, high and fake, all the while cringing at what was perhaps the worst pun he’d ever made. And that was saying something.

Marinette didn’t say anything, but laughed once.

Ok, she thought, maybe she was ridiculous, but he was equally so. Maybe that’s why she loved him so much.

She watched him make his way to the edge of the balcony and something stirred inside her, the raw feelings which had sparked when their lips had met woke from their slumber, and she reached out to touch his shoulder.

“Chat?” her voice matched the soft tremors echoing through her body, and she tried to remember to breathe. She couldn’t let him leave like this, she’d been so close. “How about…one last kiss?”

Chat stilled, statue-like. His lips parted, and Marinette panicked.

“I mean!” she corrected, face turning to flames, “I mean sorry that was dumb- so dumb. It’s just that I- I liked that kiss and I thought- I don’t know what I thought- but I wanted to-”

His lips crashed into hers, and the rest of Marinette’s sentence was lost forever.

Chat kissed her, kissed her with a resolve thoroughly destroyed and a heart so indescribably owned; owned by her, possessed by her, consumed by her. His hands were frantic, and Marinette matched him in every way as they pressed into each other. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, tangled in his hair, and pulled him closer.

Like he needed an excuse to get closer to her.

The pair of them moved apart to breathe, great shuddering breaths, and then their lips were together again- as neither of them could stand to be apart for a moment. Chat’s fingers slid from her hands to grip her hips, a primal, dark part of him triumphant as he heard a moan slip from Marinette’s mouth.

They stumbled backwards, towards the wall, and Chat pressed her against it, hands roaming her sides- never going too far- always listening to her reactions. Desire coursed through him, a need to please her, to make her moan again, without pushing too far.

She must have sensed him falter, sensed his caution, as a frustrated hum rose from the back of her throat, almost like a purr of her own. Her hands moved from his hair, gripping the bell around his throat, and she tugged him down towards her, kissing his neck.

Chat was having a hard time not passing out from that alone, but then she rolled her hips, making it so there wasn’t a sliver of streetlight between them, and he was fairly certain he died and was reborn on the spot.

Dangerous was the word whispering in his mind, the word he was ignoring as his hands cupped the sides of Marinette’s face, tilting her head back. She arched into him again, countering his movements like a dance, and he gasped.

It felt too natural, too perfect… almost…familiar.

Dangerous he thought as his tongue flicked against her lips.

Dangerous- he thought as her mouth opened and he was rewarded with another moan.

Stop. Stop before you can’t, he pleaded with himself as Marinette’s hands wrapped around his shoulders, her fingernails scratching against his neck.

He didn’t stop.

They kissed for what seemed like hours, passion moving from an explosive force to one of slow-burning sensuality, settling into a rhythm that was far too natural, but neither of them could bring themselves to mind.

It was a long time before Chat could bring himself to leave her, to stop kissing her. It was addictive, intoxicating, and filled with promise. For months his heart had been starved, yearning and wishing, and now it was real. Their kisses were real, her affections were real.

And so was her voice, ringing out in the coldness of the night, in answer to his question, “May I see you tomorrow night, Princess?”

There was a pause, both of them treading on thin ice, ice which slowly creaked and groaned beneath their feet.

“Yes,” she breathed, and the ice shattered, plunging them both into unknown depths.

(art to follow)

Suga Daddy: Part 9

Suga Daddy: Part 9 (m)

Word count: 8.2k

Genre/Warnings: angst, smut, dom!Yoongi, dirty talk, role-play (I’m sorry Yugyeom)

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Summary: It’s finally time for your showcase but Yoongi is nowhere to be found.

I know some of you have been reading this since the beginning and that’s crazy to me. Thank you so much for the constant support. I love you guys and Yoongi so yeah, onto the next chapter :) 

 Parts: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

This week had been nonstop practice for you. You spent so much time at school or in your dance studio. The dance showcase was getting closer and closer but you were damn well ready. Plus like you had said, Yoongi was now at your place, at night like nothing had happened. He would come to your home, spend wonderful passionate nights with you, play with the dog and be gone before you woke up the next morning.

Keep reading

His || Jungkook || 0.18

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5 | 0.6 | 0.7 | 0.8 | 0.9 | 0.10 | 0.11 | 0.12 | 0.13| 0.14 | 0.15 | 0.16 | 0.17 | 0.18

Keep reading

Love Always Wakes the Dragon

(and suddenly flames everywhere)

It could be worse. You do have all the luxuries befitting a princess, though one charged with treason. But a gilded cage is still a cage. And the prospect of withering away in this, the tallest tower of the Palace of Asgard, in the same place where your once-betrothed will live and marry and rule from, it’s almost too much to bear.


author: sugardaddytonystark (formerly buckysbackpackbuckle)
pairing: Thor x Jotun!Reader
word count: 4067
warnings: brat prince Thor, unprotected sex, oral sex, hair pulling, choking

Keep reading

Min Yoongi, Library Services

Author: @kpopfanfictrash as part of Bangtan University - a series of ongoing one shots with @eradikeats-writes

Creative Content Contributors: @daegusoftboys  (her moodboards for the series are perfection)

Pairing: Reader / Yoongi

Rating: NC-17 (Explicit Sex, Light Voyeurism) 

Word Count: 7,364

Summary: When you accept the the offered research position at Bangtan University, you are well aware of your partner’s prestige. The only problem is - so is he.

Keep reading

DÉPAYSEMENT | 05

| Fluff | Comedy | Smut | Slight Angst | Nerd!Hoseok | Braces!Hoseok

word count: 5k

❝ An engineering prodigy and your resident college loser, Jung Hoseok coerces you into teaching him the ways of the dating world. 

trigger warnings: bullying, mentions of suicide


“I don’t understand why we had to come here first, why couldn’t we all head to the field and meet there?” Jungkook huffs before throwing himself down on your couch.

Jimin only grins at the younger boy before shoving him playfully, “Yah. Your noona wanted you to stop by it’s the least you could do.”

Jungkook glares at him ruefully before turning to Yoongi, “You got roped in too?”

“Would I ever be around you people of my own free will?” Yoongi grumbles, his arms crossed in a pout but it doesn’t fully reach his eyes when he’s met with Taehyung’s smiling face.

“I brought company! I hope she doesn’t mind.” He smiles, offering Namjoon a seat next to him, he’s only partially startled when Yoongi’s foot stretches out, successfully kicking the chair before the younger boy can steal a sit next to Taehyung.

“Trade seats, I’m sitting closer to these rodents than my designated three feet rule allows.” Yoongi mutters but Taehyung’s heart does weird flip flops in his chest.

“So why are we all here?” Namjoon queries.

“You are all here because I’m doing Hoseok’s official unveiling.” You grin excitedly, jogging out of your bedroom long enough to check if everyone’s present. You frown, “Where’s Nayeon?”

At the exact moment Nayeon comes running in, toting several shopping bags before nearly collapsing on the kitchen table, panting and sweaty.

“Sorry! I’m late! But I’m here… I got caught up at the mall.” She grins sheepishly.

You match her smile for all its worth and almost miss the slightly disgruntled expression Jungkook is sporting. You swallow a sigh but not before sending him a stern look and a promise of addressing the issue later. But for now… for now you had other things to deal with.

You shuffle around with your phone before finding the perfect song and set it on the table, next to your Bluetooth speaker.

“Why are we listening to Sixpence?” Yoongi frowns at your theatrics.

“Have you never watched She’s All That?” You scoff at Yoongi’s blank expression, “If you must know peasant I’m paying tribute to the most iconic makeover unveiling in movie history. Now shut up so he can make his entrance.”

It takes but all of one minute to quiet the groaning room with an angry glare but they can’t help it not when you were so… corny.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” you begin theatrically, a grin tugging at your lips, “I’d like to present to you the new, not improved but different—Jung Hoseok.”

A pregnant pause followed your declaration and everyone stared expectantly at your bedroom door, but lo and behold no Hoseok was in sight.

“Hoseok you punk there almost at the,” You tapped your foot expectantly, “…. chorus.”

You finish lamely but in your defense Hoseok had finally made his grand entrance from your room and despite having been in there with him for the better part of the day, his transformation was still shocking to you because who knew that underneath all that he was—

“Blonde.” Taehyung says dumbly.

“Hot.” Nayeon grins.

“A work of goddamn art.” You agree.

Hoseok fidgets under close scrutiny but it doesn’t take away from the overall presentation you had cooked up on a small budget. It wasn’t much and you hadn’t been expecting Hoseok of all people to be able to make a black t shirt and some light wash jeans look like it came off the cover of a goddamn GQ spread but it worked. A lot of it had to do with the fact that you managed to shove his fat head under a dad cap and tweeze those godforsaken eyebrows. He wouldn’t go as far as to let you fill them in but he was at last wearing a moisturizer today.

Baby steps, you reminded yourself.

“Not bad.” Jimin muses before turning to you, “It’s actually really not bad, Jesus Christ what are you a fucking magician?”

You take a grandiose bow before turning to the silent participants in the room, cocking a brow at them and reaping Hoseok’s praise as though it were your own.

“You look completely unrecognizable.” Yoongi says, muttering a curse when Taehyung shoulder bumps him, “It’s a good thing, okay?”

“So you look like this,” Namjoon began slowly, “underneath all that… gross… and you choose to hide it because?”

“You’re all a bunch fucking critics, aren’t you?” Hoseok seethes.

You roll your eyes at him before turning to Jimin, “Are we all set to go?”

“Nayeon’s changing and she’ll be out.” Jungkook says closing her bedroom room, and you raised a brow at that because you hadn’t realized he had followed Nayeon into her room.

You had so many questions.

All of which took a backseat to the current stud sitting next to you so you shrugged and began collecting your purse to leave.


“You’re glaring.” Yoongi notes lightly as he pushes you further down the bench room for himself.

You school your features but not well enough that Yoongi doesn’t pick up on the snarl you barely bite back. It only takes a moment under close scrutiny for you to be turning to take it out on the nearest victim—it just so happened to be Jungkook.

“Close your fucking legs, Jeon do you think you own the entire goddamn bench?” You growl, glancing at his legs that were spread so wide his thigh was tucked firmly against your own.

“What are you even doing in the dug out? Go sit with the rest of the crowd.” He rolls his eyes at your outburst but obliges, turning to talk to Jimin and ignore you.

“Is there a reason you’re so testy?” Yoongi queries, raising both hands when you pin him with a look, “Not that you need one. I’m all for bitching at unsuspecting victims.”

“I’m not bitchi—you know what, never mind.” You scowl and Yoongi scoffs.

“Is it because you’re boyfriends garnering so much unwarranted attention?” Yoongi hums, “Because if you didn’t want that to happen then you shouldn’t have done such a good job. Though even I wasn’t expecting that kind of transformation from him of all people, Jesus.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You snap, arms crossed.

“Is that why you’re mad?” Yoongi sing-songs.

You open your mouth to let out a biting remark but the words get caught in your throat when the sixth girl today in the span of an hour, approaches Hoseok, sat perched in the bed of Jeon’s truck with Taehyung and Namjoon. You had been sitting there too but after the first three girls approached him, one even using you under the guise of friendship when you took like one class with her sophomore year, you had been out quicker than Ellen Degeneres during Pride.

You really should be over there coaching him, because all things considered, he was still a nincompoop when it came to girls – unable to look them in the eye or not stammer, unless of course the girl was you then he’d tell you to fuck right off and stop irritating him.

Brat.

“I’m not mad,” you say, plastering on a fake smile and grateful for the sunglasses you had donned after his comment because at least he couldn’t see the the spiteful glare you were sporting.

And you ask yourself, not for the first time today why you’re feeling so… weird.

“Okay, I lied, I am mad.” You relent finally, “I’m mad because I did all of that and the brat still has the nerve to feel insecure as though he doesn’t look like the poster boy for orthodontists weekly.”

You said it through barely clenched teeth, praying you did a good enough job of not wearing your feelings on your forehead like an idiot. But if Yoongi noticed he either didn’t say anything or didn’t care enough to mention it. (It was more likely the latter).

“Speaking of which, here comes the cheese grater now.” Yoongi snickers at his own joke and true to his word a very flushed and frazzled Hoseok is making his way over to you.

You frown at his expression before asking the obvious.

“Are you okay?”

No. I’m not okay.” He hisses, before glancing down at Jungkook’s thigh which had found its way back to yours.

Why the hell wouldn’t he close his goddamn legs?

“What’s your deal?” You nod and watch as Hoseok exhales warily.

“Is this seat taken? No? Perfect!” He grimaces, shoving Jungkook’s legs closed before squeezing in between the two of you.

Jungkook glares at the older boy for a brief second before continuing his conversation with Jimin.

“I can’t do this.” Hoseok says harshly, pinning you with a scowl. Your reaction is delayed when you get caught up in his eyes, brows slashed down angrily and no longer playing the victim to a horribly overgrown fringe.

He had a really nice fucking forehead.

“D-do what?” You clear your throat, going to sip from your beer.

“This. Talking to them!” He says vehemently, gesturing to a pair of scantily clad girls leaning against the truck, he waves weakly at them when they brandish a grin in his direction. “I’m not a social person and they… are very forward?”

“Forward?” You squint your eyes at him with a frown.

“One of them grazed my dick when they put there hand on my thigh.” He hissed.

What?” You don’t realize your shouting until your lips already curled and Yoongi is cocking a brow at you. You clear your throat before averting your gaze, “I mean… that’s so rude?”

“Anyway, let me stay here,” he huffs out, “You’re really good at scaring people off.”

“Hey!” You cry out indignantly before narrowing your eyes at him, “No offense my guy but wasn’t that the whole point of this entire thing? Getting you laid? Those girls want you to fuck them. I can tell!”

“Okay that’s great but I’m nervous and I… I know as soon as I open my mouth it’s game over. They’ll ask me to eat their pussy and I’ll start nervously spewing out Overwatch facts.” He groans, “Besides! Aren’t you supposed to be helping me?”

“What the hell have I been doing the past two weeks? Twiddling my thumbs?” You whisper harshly, glancing over your shoulder to see if the boys had heard anything. But they all carry on obliviously save for Jungkook who hasn’t stopped glaring at you since you left the apartment.

“Look I’m just not ready for this yet,” Hoseok sighs, “I don’t think I have the confidence to really… talk to girls yet, much less go on a date or… fuck them. Is it okay if I just hang out with you for today?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation but it’s no use feigning disappointment when a small voice in the back of your head is rejoicing at the prospect of having Hoseok to yourself.

Quit being weird, you chastise yourself.

“I won’t pressure you into anything you don’t want to do, you know that.” You sigh, “So if you want to sit here and drink cheap beer while listen to Jeon make fart jokes then by all means.”

Hoseok doesn’t say anything but he does visibly relax which is a good sign and for some reason you find yourself grasping at a conversation.

“So ugh,” you clear your throat, “how’s being a TA?”

Hoseok blinks at you as though he’s only just realized your talking to him before shrugging, “It’s fine I guess. I’m surrounded by idiots 24/7 but I at least get paid for it so I can’t complain.”

“And what you’re not surrounded by idiots when you hang out with us?” You snort.

“It’s different though,” Hoseok murmurs, nursing a beer. He squints his eyes thoughtfully, “Believe it or not I actually enjoy your guys’ company.”

“Well shit, I hope so – here I was thinking we were like friends and stuff.” You snort.

“Are we though?” He murmurs thoughtfully. “I mean, I’m not just inexperienced with girls. I’m sure it’s obvious but I don’t exactly draw in a lot of fans what with being you know, me and all.”

“Will you stop doing that?” You asked, suddenly annoyed at his self deprecating tone.

Hoseok jumps, startled by your outburst, “Doing what?”

“Being all like down on yourself and shit. It’s like pathetic,” you grumble defiantly, “You don’t need fans in life or people who’ll kiss your ass—you’re not an idol. Real people need real friends to make fun of them and like talk shit to them and stuff, you know?”

“Why are you always doing that?” He implores and you raise your gaze to his, only his expression isn’t one of defense, only pure curiosity lies in wait.

“The same reason you gave me that whole spiel about not giving up on life and shit.” You say, “Because friends talk shit to you and about you but they don’t kick you when you’re down and it really, really bugs me to hear you say stuff like that about yourself, yeah? Leave that to me.”

Hoseok stares at you for a beat too long, taking in the angry slant of your eyebrows and the way your lips purse in respite.

Hoseok’s cheeks burn red hot, tears pricking at his eyes and despite how they beg to be freed from their confines, to run wet tracks down his cheeks he doesn’t let them. His lips purse in an attempt to choke back a sob and he stares down at the linoleum weakly.

“What are you waiting for? Pick them up.” Someone snickers behind him.

He blinks down at his hands questioningly, because what was the point? The hallway seemed to be cloaked in a silence that screamed at him, despite the many people crowding the space.

His books lay scattered around him, and his chest hurt with an agony he was all too familiar with, the sheer overwhelming pity he felt for himself was almost debilitating. He cleared his throat to cover a sniffle, another weak attempt at biting back tears before he’s moving to collect his belongings.

He’s barely on his feet again before they’re being knocked out of his hands with too much force.

A crowd was forming now, and he closes his eyes to try and block out the whispers, the looks of pity because despite how bad everyone felt no one was willing to help. No one ever helped. It was all the same to them, he was there for their entertainment.

And not for the first time, he wondered why.

Why he kept trying. Why he didn’t end it all when he would lay awake at night with a sadness that brought him to his knees. Why he was deemed so unworthy of kindness by people that barely knew him. Why he pushed through when he knew nothing but bruises that pierced deeper than skin and a crippling sadness that only his shower walls would ever hear.

Why, why, why, why me?

“Stop it!”

Hoseok is too dazed, too caught up with disgust and the need to shed his skin, to vomit a sickness that knew no cure.

His heart hurt.

“I said stop!”

When he looks up again it’s you, the girl from the locker the other day and you’re… crying.

Your eyes are bloodshot and your chest is heaving. He wants to know why. He wants to tell you you’re too pretty, even blubbering, lips quivering. You’re too pretty to cry, too pretty to be on your knees, but he’s overwhelmed. By everything, by the silent on lookers, by the almost painful embarrassment.

He barely realizes you’re shoving books back into his bag for him, before you swipe at your nose and drag him along by the wrist. He doesn’t have the mind to ask questions until you’re out in the courtyard, it’s the middle of classes so it’s empty, save for a few stray butterflies that linger.

His feet hesitate by the fountain and you stumble by the sudden halt, turning to face him inquisitively.

“Why are you always doing that?” He whispers, jerking his hand back from yours.

“D-doing what?” You stammer.

“That. Back there.” He says, jaw clenching, “Why do you keep helping me? Why do you care?”

“Because I’m human,” you say indignantly, “and so are you – not a dog to be made to sit and roll over why don’t you act like it?”

“You think I haven’t tried?” His lip curls in disgust, “What would you know anyway, you’re just some stupid cheerleader, you’re just like the rest of them.”

“Really? Because I didn’t see the rest of them stepping into help you!”

“I didn’t ask for your help!” He yells back.

“You didn’t have to!” You say over him, and tears are rolling down freely, “I helped you because it hurt to see you like that! Maybe everyone else can look away but I can’t! Tell the principle, tell your parents, fuck tell anyone! But don’t… don’t take that.”

And just like that your lip is quivering again, only he doesn’t get a chance to see the tears fall this time because you’re storming off, leaving him there to stare after you.

Hoseok blinks himself back to consciousness when he catches sight of your fingers snapping a hairsbreadth from his face, trying to garner his attention.

“Don’t look now but more of your admirers are headed over.” You say quietly and Hoseok visibly stiffens.

“What do I do?” He whispers harshly.

You bite your lip in concentration, debating the consequences of your action before finally relenting when they neared the dug out. You were a flurry of motion that Hoseok’s sluggish, intoxicated brain couldn’t keep up with – but suddenly you were dropping yourself into his lap, his legs spreading on instinct, you grip his frozen arms until they wrapped around you begrudgingly.

“What are you doing?” He hisses.

“Getting those girls off your back,” you scoff, but you have to crane your neck back to speak to him and he suddenly realizes just how pretty your throat is—why could he never tell before now?

“Hey Hoseok,” one of the girls begins timidly, trying to catch a glimpse of him from in back of your body.

“Uh…. hey hi,” he clears his throat.

“You just left us over there with your friends.” The shorter girl pouts and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah sorry I—”

“He’s kind of busy.” You say brightly, leaning back until your back was pressed to his chest, Hoseok grunts over the unexpected weight. “Did you need something?”

“Oh I… sunbae… sorry,” the tall brunette clears her throat as though she’s just noticed that your sitting dead center on top of Hoseok. You frown when you recognize her from one of your economics courses, “I didn’t realize you… and he… were—”

“For tonight we are.” You shrug, gesturing towards Namjoon, deciding to throw him a bone, “but that guys free over there, I hear he drives a Range Rover, you should chat him up.”

The brunette smiles brightly, if a little bit nervously at you but grips the shorter girls arm, dragging her along but not before she withers you with a narrowed glare. You cock a brow at her audacity before she’s turning around with a huff.

Sunbae?” Hoseok queries from behind you, and you barely conceal a shiver when you feel how closely he’s speaking to your ear, his breath smells like beer but when you try to pull back his grip tightens around you.

“Yeah,” you say indignantly, “I know I’m not shit in the science world but I’m in a league of my own in my major.”

“I can see that being true,” he nods, lips turning down, “You’re good at what you do. Just look at how you made me over.”

You try to ignore the fact that his arms are still glued to your waist, hands going to clasp just over your mid section, but it’s hard and he smells so good.

“I had a good base to work with,” you hum, going to sip at your beer and feigning nonchalant.

“Is that a compliment from the ice queen herself?” Hoseok snorts, hooking his chin over your shoulder and your thankful not for the first time that he can’t see your reaction.

“Not a compliment. Just the truth.” You murmur, “Your friends are long gone you know, there’s no need for me to sit here anymore.”

“Mm,” he hums, “so get off then.”

You don’t say anything, just take another sip of your beer, but Hoseok hears your answer loud and clear.

“For someone who’s nervous with girls you sure do seem to feel awfully comfortable with me.” You chastise, watching the field carefully when Nayeon makes an appearances.

“It’s because I know I don’t have a shot,” he shrugs impishly and you know he’s smirking even without looking at him, “It makes it a lot less scary when you have nothing to lose going in.”

“Who says you didn’t have a shot?” You ask, but it’s followed by a startled yelp when a cheer erupts from the bleachers, a bunch of drunk frat guys parading onto the field naked and covered in paint.

“The universe.” He snorts.

“You underestimate yourself.” You note.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” He queries, a hesitant hand going to rest on your thigh. He doesn’t know where the burst of confidence came from. Maybe it’s from the beer, maybe it’s from the new clothes, or maybe it’s from the way your stares seem to linger these days—whatever it is you don’t reject his touch either way.

“Exactly what it sounds li—”

“Hey lard ass,” someone calls from above you and you turn your head to glare at Jeon Jungkook, “Nayeon scored the winning point, we’re all heading to the bar are you coming or what?”

“I’m coming, you insufferable little brat.” You hiss.

Jungkook stands there when you don’t move right away, you raise an eyebrow at him.

“What?” You scowl.

“Is that the only seat?” He queries, lip curling, “Is it proper for you to be like that?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“What would your parents say if they saw you sitting like that, huh?” He asks, eyes wide as he gestures to your seat on Hoseok’s lap.

Your face flushes deep before you stand up and glare at him, “Are you really scolding me on propriety? You of all people.”

“Yes and so what?” He says, chest puffing or indignantly. He takes a cautious step back before pointing an accusing finger at you, “And sit with your legs closed!”

He ducks when you go to hit him, sticking his tongue out before he races clear across the field and out of your violent reach.


“One more round!” Jimin shouts, shoving a shot glass in your hand.

You lift your head from the table long enough to flick Jimin off, all he does is grin while you groan and lay your head on Nayeon’s shoulder.

“Rock, paper, scissors over who gets to kill him.” You say to Nayeon.

She points a drunken finger at your face, “we… can’t… kill him ’s illegal.”

“It’s self defense. We have to kill him before he tries to poison us—alcohol poison us!” You shout desperately.

“You guys are all pussies!” Jungkook yells, ever the bravado drunk. Hoseok barely keeps him in his seat, halting him from clambering onto the table top, to make what you were assuming he thought was a profound speech—for the umpteenth time that night.

“Hyung,” Jungkook slurs, clapping a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, “I once finished a twelve pack of beer in one sitting and that was, before the Hoover game, I even broke the QB record at our school that day.”

“Was anyone there to see it?” Namjoon asks, sipping at what had to be the girliest drink you’ve ever seen in your entire life—it was fuschia and he was sipping it through one of those skinny black straws.

Fucking weirdo.

“No, it was just me but I swear it happened!” Jungkook yelled vehemently.

“Dude,” Namjoon sighs, “in life, whatever you do, it doesn’t count if your friends aren’t there to witness it.”

“I second that.” Jimin says, raising another shot glass to his lips. It pisses you off how sober he still is when he drank twice as much as you.

“Why aren’t you fucking drunk?” You scowl.

“On the contrary I’m very much fucked,” he says, “I’m what the people call… a functioning alcoholic.”

“Let’s play another game!” Taehyung whines from his spot.

“Let’s fucking not because you’re all a bunch of dirty cheaters!” You hiss, gesturing to the table.

“You’re just saying that because you lost every single time.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, “I even won once.”

“I won a game too.” Taehyung pipes up.

“Me too.” Hoseok shrugs.

“Great,” Yoongi mutters from the inside of the booth, “You’ve each won a game and I’ve lost what feels like a year off my life spending time with you people—we’re all going home winners tonight.”

“I want a recount!” You say.

“There’s no recount in Most Likely.” Jimin points out. “If we find you most likely to do something we point at you, the person with the most fingers pointed at them has to drink.”

“Yes, and every single time you threw out a sentence I had to drink—does it make sense that I would be most likely to do all of the things that were named?” You growl.

“One of them was most likely to win in a cage fight amongst the eight of us, so yes it does make sense.” Yoongi snickers.

“I have a better propositions you limp noodles.” Jungkook says from his spot and all seven of you turn your attention to the drunken boy, “Body shots.”

“There’s two girls and six guys.” Hoseok snorts, “Don’t you think the ratios a bit uneven.”

“Okay shut the fuck up with your math lingo first of all—”

“Ratio isn’t just a math word, dumbass.”

“—second of all two of the six are gay so they don’t count.”

“What makes you think I want to do a body shot off of any of you animals?” Yoongi sneers.

“Because who the fuck wouldn’t want to do a body shot off these smokin’ abs?” Jungkook scoffs.

“I’m in.” You say suddenly, garnering six wide eyed looks.

“Are you serious?” Nayeon giggles, “You queen of ball busting are gonna let one of these morons do a shot off you?”

“It’s all in good fun, right?” You say, catching Hoseok’s eye before turning back to her.

“If you do it then I’ll do it too.” She grins.

“Well I’m out,” Yoongi grunts, “you vagina baring cretins can have at it.”

“Me too.” Taehyung shrugs before sending an apologetic look that you and Nayeon both wave off, “Not my cup of tea.”

“Not your cup of tea or not your cup of genitalia?” Jimin snickers, earning a flush Taehyung. “You all know my answer – I never mind an extra chance to get my lips—”

Disgusting.” You cut him off.

“As much as I would love to lick any part of anyone’s body right now, I gotta run.” Namjoon sighs, before brandishing a notification on his phone, “Duty calls.”

“Are you gonna be okay to drive?” You frown.

“Dude I’ve been sipping cosmopolitans since we got here, I’m pretty sure I’d pass every sobriety test ever.” He rolls his eyes before waving his goodbye.

“And then there were three.” Jungkook says, clapping his hands together, “That is assuming your game?”

His question was directed at Hoseok who seemed to be staring off into space unknowingly. The older boy clears his throat and meets Jungkook’s challenging stare—it annoys him for some reason, and has him sitting up straighter with a curt nod.

“Great,” Jimin says, breaking the tense atmosphere, “Since there’s three of us and two of them, rock, paper, scissors.”

You watch on in silent amusement as they go through three rounds of the game, each boy eyeing the other with a competitive glare, it isn’t until the third game when Jimin’s eliminated that Hoseok meets your eyes.

You take a long gulp of beer to try and hide the flush burning bright on the apples of your cheeks, only hesitating a little when Nayeon drags you to your feet.

“Where do you want it Jeon?” Jimin asks when he comes back baring a tray, brandishing small ramekin of salt, two shots and lime wedges. He’s standing in front of Nayeon when he’s asks the question.

“I’ll do it.” He says, rising to unsteady feet when he grabs the ramekin from Jimin—

And heads straight to you.

You stare at him wide eyed when he goes to drag a finger through the salt, “What are you doing?”

“My body shot.” He shrugs, before sprinkling the salt all down the front of the v in your t shirt. You can’t even glare at him because you were still trying to catch up with his thought process.

“So go do it over there.” You hiss, letting out a small yelp when he plops a lime in your mouth to shut you up.

“Maybe I want something different.” He says, breath fanning over your face due to his close proximity.

You clench your jaw but frown when a little of the lime juice dribbles into your mouth down your chin. You chance a glance at Hoseok but the older boy looks well engrossed in his preparations, allowing Jimin the honors of setting Nayeon up for him while he rubs a hand over his neck awkwardly.

A finger on your chin has you returning your gaze back to Jungkook who’s looking at you with a glint in his eye you weren’t entirely comfortable with.

Your comfortability takes a backseat when the audacious brat goes to shove his shot glass between your breasts, a small smirk quirking at the sides of his lip.

“Ready?” Jimin calls, before patting a hand on either boys shoulder, “Remember this is race – the partner of the loser has to take a penalty shot. Got it?”

Both of them nod and Jungkook tongues at his cheek cockily, making you roll your eyes. You drag one last look at Nayeon and Hoseok who seem to be in their own little world, deep in conversation.

What the hell were they even talking about anyway?

“On your marks. Get set,” Jimin begins, “Go.”

Jungkook’s hand find purchase on your waist and your attention is drawn back to the boy in front of you, his head dips to press a lascivious if unnecessary kiss to your right breast before his tongue is swiping over the sensitive skin, your tummy dips at the sensations. But then his lips are roaming down your cleavage before his mouth is working on sucking back the shot glass and finally he’s setting it down with less haste than someone in a competition should be allowed. Two wide palms come up to cup your face while his lips find yours in a sour kiss, the lime wedge between your teeth drops when your jaw goes slack and Jungkook is swiping up the juice at the corner of your lips with his tongue.

Time seems to slow with his mouth on you like this and you find yourself kissing him back, forgetting for the briefest moment who he was, who you were and where the hell you were at. All that mattered was the way his belly seemed to clench under your hesitant hands and his mouth worked over yours.

But all too soon it was coming to an end and when you pull back Jugkook is panting and Jimin is grinning at the both of you.

“What an unexpected turn of events,” he snickers, but you don’t have half a mind to insult him. Instead you’re still blinking at Junkook who licks at his lips like he’s trying to preserve the taste of you there.

Jimin rolls his eyes, “Alright love birds, as wonderful as that show was, you lost – so take your shot like a big girl.”

His words bring you back to focus and your gaze shoots back to Hoseok, only his features are schooled in a composed mask and he’s carrying on a conversation with Taehyung as though nothing out of the ordinary just happened. As though you made out with Jeon Jungkook on a regular fucking basis.

Jimin shoves at your shoulder when you don’t respond right away and you stare down at the shot glass for a moment before someone else is grabbing it out of his hand. Your eyes lift to Jungkook and the way the column of his throat works when he throws it back, not even wincing from the burn of tequila.

He sniffs before swiping at his lower lip, “’s my fault we lost anyway.”

Jimin cocks a brow between the two of you, “Jeon Jungkook taking a penalty shot for someone else? This is a first.”

“Fuck off.” He rolls his eyes before he gathers his car keys and phone, “I have two a days tomorrow so I gotta be heading out before coach rips me a new one for showing up hung over again.”

He’s already to turning to leave when your hand shoots out to grip his wrist (without out your fucking consent.) Jungkook raises an eyebrow at the limb before you’re letting go, swiping your hands down your jeans nervously.

“I… uhh… you,” you shake your head, “Are you gonna be okay to drive?”

“Are you worried?” He grins.

You scoff at that, “No but it’d be mighty inconvenient to have to plan your funeral during mid terms.”

“I’ll be fine, Princess.” He tsks and for the first time in…. well ever, you find Jeon Jungkook attractive in a way that might just be worthy of contracting a minor STI.

Hoseok watches the entire exchange from his post in the booth, and for some reason a feeling of unease is clawing at his stomach.

He hadn’t anticipated Jungkook doing a body shot off you because well why would he? But the more Hoseok thought about it was more like – why the hell wouldn’t he?

You were gorgeous and you had a body that men would kill for the chance to worship, and it only set you that much further from himself. Paranoia and self doubt find their way back into his brain, where they’ve made a home for themselves, reminding Hoseok to take heed, remember his place, always remember where he stood with you. It was only made worst by the look that Jungkook sends you when he rubs an apologetic hand over your hipbone before bidding you adieu.

The action nags at Hoseok more than should and he finds himself shooting to unsteady feet before his mind has caught up with him. You yelp at the sudden action and catch him before he goes tumbling off the platform the booth is sat a top.

“Alright there, big guy?” You grin, holding him steady, and you pat a patronizing hand over his belly, “Let’s get some food in you and get you home, yeah?”

“I don’t need any fucking food,” he scoffs, annoyed by your sudden caring behavior.

Is that all you saw him as? As someone who needed to be looked after, cared for, handled with kid gloves? Did you not see him as a man, because fuck… fuck if it didn’t feel like it sometimes. When your touches or your glanced would linger he was able to delude himself into thinking that maybe you had wanted him too—when you were at the field and in his lap he thought that maybe… maybe there was something there but—

Leave it to him to read to deep into something that meant nothing to you. In fact, the thought itself angered him, had him flushing with embarrassment.

“I don’t need to fucking go home and especially not with the likes of you.” He sneered, breaking out of your grip irritably.

You call out to him but he’s already made it across the bar, storming off angrily. To his credit he makes it exactly two feet from you before he’s collapsing, the evidence of his low tolerance catching up to him, making his legs wobble unsteadily and the room spin before his eyes.

The last thing he sees is you rushing to his side before everything’s going black and he falls into a deep sleep.


There’s a pounding in his head that just won’t seem to stop, and Hoseok probably could have done without the sour taste on his tongue, every inch of his body is screaming at him to go back to sleep but he’s already penetrated the first barrier and all dredges of slumber leave him, instead nausea and indigestion take its place.

Hoseok rubs at his eyes with the back of his hands, trying to discern his current location, but alas they’re all failed attempts when he realizes the room is pitch black.

He’s just about to get up and investigate when a sliver of light breaks through a crack in the door and your silhouette appears before him.

“Morning sunshine,” you whisper, and he can barely make you out but he can tell that you’ve changed into pajamas and if he squints just enough he can see pink tinged cheeks on a freshly scrubbed face.

“What time is it?” He croaks, annoyed at the revelation that all liquor from earlier has yet to leave his body, courtesy of the woozy feeling in his stomach.

“It’s four am,” you explain, “you weren’t asleep very long but you blacked out at the bar and I told Jimin to just take us here. He’s crashed out on the couch with Taehyung.”

“Oh,” he says before trying to stand, wincing when a wave of vertigo knocks him back on his ass.

“Chill out dude.” You say before diving into the confines of your bed, your body relaxing against the cool duvet.

“I’ll just… I’ll show myself out,” he clears his throat. He hesitates when your grip on his t shirt yanks him back down to your mattress.

“Don’t try and be a martyr tonight, will you?” You sigh, “Just relax.”

How the hell did you expect him to relax when he was laying next to you? Smelling like heaven and looking like sin. Your sleep shorts did little to hide the plump curve of your ass, and your tank top was so low he could make out the beginnings of a hickey—reminding him why he had stormed off in the first place.

Jeon fucking Jungkook.

“What part of relax is lost on you?” You ask, turning on your side to face him, and alternatively giving him a better view of your cleavage. “Never had a co-ed sleepover before?”

“Do I look like I’ve had a co-ed sleepover before?” He snorts.

“Here we go again,” you sigh, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Do you mind telling me why you’re always so down on yourself?”

“You mean other than the obvious?” He scoffs.

“I’m serious I mean, you’re in the top 1% of the country, you’re about to be rich if you think about the fact that you’ll succeed in whatever field you’re about to pursue and now Hoseok, you’re hot.” You say and he tries to ignore the way his cheeks flush at your compliment. “Even when you dressed the way you did before you were still handsome I just don’t see why—”

“Why what? Why I have such a low fucking self esteem?” He snaps, before rising to his elbows to glare at you, “Why are you always pushing this why can’t you ever mind your own business?”

“Because you are my business. We’re friends and—”

You said we were friends, I never agreed to any of it.” He grits out and he doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that crosses your features, even in the dim light of your bedroom.

You stare at him for a beat before letting out an annoyed huff and turning on your side, actively blocking him out. Hoseok sighs before carding a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“___.. I… Didn’t mean that I—”

“Of course you did.” You laugh bitterly, “Because no matter how much I think we’re progressing you’re always there to remind me that this is just a debt owed. That every time you spend time with me is purely obligatory with only your end goal in sight.”

“Well why the hell would you want to hang out with me otherwise?” He scowls, “It doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense. But don’t worry because I heard your message loud and clear: I won’t bother you unless it’s related to getting you laid.”

“____,” he groans, “that’s not what I meant!”

You turn back to face him, angrily, eyebrows slashed down in a frown as you glared at him. Even then you still looked beautiful, like a really pissed of fairy laying next to him with the moonlight draping over your fine features.

“I’m going to sleep.” You say, shutting your eyes.

Hoseok rubs at the back of his neck, wondering how he managed to wind up in this position – with you, always with you. And for someone so smart, he didn’t understand anything these days, you had a special way of efficiently fucking him up, confusing him until he was grasping at strings for reason.

The silence in the room was deafening, the only thing keeping him from slipping out was the way you seemed to be pouting, even with your eyes closed and it was so fucking endearing to him. It had his drunken mind reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear—the move was so intimate and uncalled for even to him, so he wasn’t all that surprised when your eyes shot open at the gentle caress.

Hoseok clears his throat, looking for something, anything to say when his hand is frozen in mid-air.

“My parents,” he blurts out.

“Huh?” You whisper with a frown.

“They’re really ,,, demanding,” he explains and when he starts he can’t seem to stop, “you know how you said they’re assholes? Well they’re worst than that, asshole is too nice a word to describe them. They’re really unfeeling, cold, clinical with everything—including their kids.”

“Oh.” You say.

Because really what could you say?

“Yeah oh,” he agrees, “I don’t mind being an engineer, I like it, I like math and science and I like making robots but even that… it bothers them. There’s no time for recreational things, for fun. It’s all about work to them.”

“You build robots?” You implore.

“I find time for it.” He shrugs, “it relaxes me, a lot like dancing but I don’t really have time for either these days.”

Your hand finds his way to his cheek and he lets you soothe over the skin there, acting as though the alcohol is urging on both of your actions. His hand goes up to catch yours, but he leaves it there.

And you both pretend. For now.

“Will you ever let me watch you dance?” You hum, smoothing one of his sideburns gently, and Hoseok lets his eyes flutter shut, “You’ve piqued my interest and now I just feel like you’re doing it on purpose—leaving me waiting with bated breath.”

He chuckles but it’s short lived and suddenly he staring at your lips. “I’ve been too busy for anything that’s not work or school related. I haven’t found anytime to go the studio.”

“Let me tag along when you go,” you yawn, letting Hoseok’s fingers lace with your own.

“I will.” He replies.

“Promise?” You query, but you’re fighting sleep, your eyes are heavy and begging for you to give in to the temptation of a good eight hours of rest.

You never do hear a reply because you’re already dead asleep in a matter of seconds.

Hoseok stares at your sleeping figure for longer than is necessary, taking in the silent rise and fall of your chest, to the soft skin of your cheeks. He waits a beat before letting his finger catch on your lower lip, to swipe there. So lush and full and bruised red with your natural tint.

How is anyone this pretty when they sleep?

It’s but a moment before your own hand is going up to grip his wrist and he freezes with the realization that you’re doing it to keep it there instead of push him away. A sigh leaves him as he watched the way your lashes are fanned down against your cheeks.

So beautiful it hurts.

“You’re too good for me,” he says, but he knows I falls on deaf ears, “in more ways than one. You always were too good for me, even back then. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

He stares at you longingly, checking to make sure if your breathing is still even, to see if he should date carry on. He makes the decision with a small smile when a soft snore leaves you.

“Back then you felt like an angel—it’s corny, right?” He whispers, his hand going to push the hair back from your face, “but you were the only good thing I had going for me. Even now, none of this feels real. I hope you’ll forgive me when you find out the truth, I won’t try and keep it from you. I hope you understand that I needed to be with you like this, even just once.”

A mumble of words slip past your lips and Hoseok is frozen stiff by the thought that you might have heard his confession, but you don’t say anything in reply only continue to mutter on about a toaster before you shuffled closer to him and shoved your hands up his shirt.

Hoseok cringed when he felt your frozen skin press against his own and he gently tugs them out from underneath his t shirt before he’s warming them with his own, coaxing you back down from the surface and into a deeper state of sleep. He lets you curl into him, even if he knows it’s only for his body heat, he would take whatever he could get.

Obligatory cuddling was still cuddling after all.


a/n: this chapter was really hard to write for me. i know i mentioned being bullied growing up but a lot of the feelings expressed are things that ive dealt with the loneliness/desperation and i hope if any of u feel like that u feel comfortable enough to talk to me about. that’s all ok ❤️

Superfamily Thing

Dad and pops were fighting again.


They had been for at least a week now. Peter was used to the occasional blowup for a night, maybe two, before they got all stupidly sappy with one another again.
This was new. Scary.

They avoided each other in the day and screamed at each other in the night when they thought he was asleep. Pops had been sleeping in the spare room for at least six of the seven nights it had been going on for. Dinner time had become a nightmare; Uncle Clint having to swap seats so he was sat in between them and prevent another fight from springing up while they ate.


He didn’t want them to split up. Divorced parents were a pain in the ass, according to the girl who sat next to him in math class. She was always talking about what a hassle it was, moving all her stuff from one house to another every weekend.

And it meant one of them would have to leave. Move out. Get a new life and a new partner and maybe even a new kid-

But Peter really didn’t want to think about that.


Today was the fifth day of Peter coming home to see only one of his parents in the kitchen, where there should usually be two. They tended to hang around, waiting for him in order to ambush him and ask questions about his day. Their latest fad was ‘so how was Wade today?’ or something along those lines, in that stupid sing-song voice that adults always did when they were being dicks.

It had been irritating- but Peter wouldn’t have minded now. If it meant they’d been doing it together, sending stupid smirky grins toward one another or just holding hands at the table rather than looking cold and tired- he wouldn’t have minded at all.


Today it was dad who greeted him. He was sat with a coffee in hand and tablet in the other, idly tapping at the keys and trying to keep his eyes open. Peter knew he hadn’t been sleeping well- it wasn’t exactly hard to tell. And although they never spoke to him about what they did with the avengers, Peter could guess that that had been the trigger for all the stupidity lately. 

He didn’t have to be the genius he was in order to figure that out. Pops hadn’t come back from the mission two Fridays ago; they’d hurried him off to hospital instead. And then three days later, once he’d been given the all-clear, dad had brought him home, where they’d proceeded to have  a huge argument. Right in front of Peter. 

Honestly, he’d just wanted to be able to sit with pops and make sure he was okay- let him stroke his hair and quiet his worries and say how tough he was, that he wouldn’t go down that easy. But instead he’d had to be hurried away by Uncle bruce, who was rolling his eyes and apologizing on behalf of them, saying that he’d be able to talk to his pops soon, but it wasn’t a good time right now.

Peter had scowled, told Uncle Bruce moodily ‘I’m thirteen, not an idiot- I know that’, and then slammed up to his room to wait it out. And, of course, Pops had hobbled up eventually; sitting on the bed with him and assuring him he was okay, he was tough as nails, and he would always, always come home to Peter.


Except he’d been alone. and usually, no matter how mad they were at each other, Pops and Dad had always talked to Peter about this together.

That had been the first warning. From then on, it had seemed things just got progressively worse.


“Hey squirt- how was school?” Dad asked, when Peter dropped his bag and began making his way into the kitchen in order to make himself a bowl of cereal (he was a growing boy, okay, shut up, cereal in the afternoon was perfectly fine, his Uncle Clint did it all the time).

he shrugged. “Eh- it was okay. Boring, as usual; they gave us a test, I aced it, again, as usual,” Peter explained, carefully avoiding the fact that they’d been learning about The Battle of New York in lesson that day. He knew it was a touchy subject for his dad, and he didn’t want to risk upsetting him.

Dad raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from his coffee and watching Peter with a look on his face. Peter just sighed. He knew what was coming.

“So how was Waaade?

He sighed. “Ugh, Wade was fine, he smiled at me while i passed on the corridors today and that was literally all that happened. I honestly don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this, he called me cute once-”

“Once is enough,” his dad shrugged bemusedly, poking Peter in the side as he walked around the table to sit next to him and get to work on his snack. 

“That is not a snack, Peter,” dad said, because unfortunately he was good at reading Peter’s mind like that. “That’s like, a full meal. We’re having dinner in an hour, are you serious-”

“School is hard work,” Peter complained, flopping on to the stool and leaning on his dad’s shoulder theatrically, “It drains me of energy that I need to replenish with Lucky Charms.”

“Natasha will blow her top if she sees you eating that- it’s her turn to cook tonight. And if she chooses to murder you for eating beforehand, then there isn’t much I can do. I know you’re my son, but the whole parent-bond thing only goes so far-”

Peter bumped him on the shoulder and he laughed quietly. It was nice to see the tension ease off his face a little.


Of course, then everything went wrong again.


“Hey Peter, didn’t know you’d be back so ear- oh,” his Pops said, entering the room and faltering when he saw Dad already sat at the table.

There was an awkward pause. Peter guessed they must have got the days wrong for which one of them was going to go and talk to him about his school day. 
That tended to happen when they didn’t actually speak to one another and acted like they were Peter’s Goddamn age.

Pops managed to collect himself, though- walking forward and smiling as he reached out to squeeze Peter’s shoulder, before heading to the cupboards and grabbing a mug. “You had a good day today?”

Peter shrugged, wishing it didn’t feel as tense as it did. Why the hell did parents have to argue anyway? It was stupid. They were being stupid, and Peter just wanted them to kiss and make up already- because that’s what they did, that’s what they always did, right? This wasn’t going to last, it couldn’t- Peter didn’t want to have two homes, he didn’t want Dad to marry someone else or Pops to have different kids-


It was only then that he realised Dad and Pops had moved, resting a hand on each shoulder while he leaned forward on to the table and hid his crumpled face in the crook of his arms.

 “Peter! Hey, baby, what’s happened, did something go down at school-”

“Do we need to go in, because we’ll go in, okay- whatever’s wrong, we’ll sort it out. Are you being bullied?”

“Did someone hurt you?”

“Did you have an argument with your friends?”

“Were y-”

“IT’S YOU TWO!” Peter yelled, jerking upward again and throwing his hands in the air. “God, this is the first time you’ve been this close to each other in ages! I haven’t seen you look each other in the eye when you’re around one another except to argue! Why the hell are you both being so stupid? I don’t…I don’t want you to get divorced! But you will and then you’ll both find stupid new people and have stupid new lives and leave me behind and we won’t be a family any more and I don’t want that so just STOP FIGHTING!”

He didn’t stop to listen to whatever stupid crap they tried to throw at him; instead kicking the chair he was sat on over and storming out of the room angrily, ignoring their calls and running up into his room before they could bother him. 

(Read more, mobile users!)

Keep reading

The first read through of S4 how it went
  • Amanda : my baker street boys. Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.
  • (*closes script*)
  • (Silence)
  • Mark: ...
  • Steven: ...
  • Ben: ....
  • Martin: .........
  • Mark: so...Ben what do you think?
  • Ben: ...
  • Steven: Ben?
  • Ben: ...*murmuring* they didn't get together?
  • Mark: what?
  • Ben: My character and Martin's.
  • Mark: ...um...no Ben, obviously.
  • Martin: *snuffled crying sound.*
  • Amanda: Martin?
  • Ben: *passes Martin a tissue whilst patting his eyes too*
  • Ben: ...it's...just...they were..they were...*choked cry*
  • Martin: THEY WERE IN LOVE!
  • Moftiss: Martin, are you okay?
  • Martin: *shoving off chair and kicking over table* DO I LOOK OKAY?
  • Moftiss: ...
  • Martin: YOU MACHINES *grabbing Ben's arm and pulling him up* HOW COULD YOU QUEERBAIT LIKE THAT? JOHN AND SHERLOCK WERE AND ARE IN LOVE-
  • Ben: *tugging on Martin's sleeve* it's-
  • Martin: IT'S NOT OKAY! *to moftiss* YOU...YOU...LIARS YOU SAY THEY ARENT IN LOVE THEN EXPLAIN WHY YOU MADE ME REDO THE ANGELOS SCENE TEN TIMES UNTIL I DID THE PERFECT LIP LICK OR WHY YOU MADE ME AN BEN STARE AT EACHOTHER FOR TWO HOURS THAT DAY SO WE HAD ENOUGH EYESEX OR WHY YOU TOLD ME TO SHATTER MY HEART WHEN SHERL PROPOSED OR WHY-
  • Moftiss: MARTIN!
  • Martin: you know what this is what I think to that *kisses Ben*
  • Moftiss: ....
  • Martin: YEAH LOOK AWAY WHATEVER BUT YOU MISSED THIS OPPORTUNITY YOU-
  • Moftiss: *run to underground bunker*
  • Martin: ...
  • Ben: ...
  • Martin: ...
  • Ben: you know you can do that again anytime.
  • Martin: 😏
Conditioned (Part 4)

(Tae wonders if he’ll ever get to experience the things you do with the men you date, only to be surprised by what he gets.)

Warning: 12,400 words of sex stuff, sub!Tae, female dom, aural voyeurism, tease and denial, or something like that


After a month of hard work on a critical project, the head of Tae’s department invited the entire team out to eat and drink on the company’s tab.  Tae enjoyed these outings, partially because he liked socializing with his coworkers and partially because he liked eating for free.  His boss was the son of the company’s owner and liked to be a show-off with his money.  He always chose places that served the highest quality meat and drink.  They were already well into the evening and Tae had happily gorged himself on hanwoo beef and upscale soju, while chatting with his work friends.

“Are you even listening to me?” Tae was frustrated from having to continuously repeat himself to his friend, Hoseok.  “You keep looking over my shoulder while I’m talking to you.  Is there something going on behind me?”  Tae started to turn his head to see what it was that had Hoseok so distracted.  

“No, stop!  You are going to make it too obvious and they’ll notice me looking at them!” Hoseok waved at Tae to lean in across the table so they could speak privately.  “I’ve been watching this couple behind you.  Something seemed odd about them and I’ve been trying to figure it out.  I think she’s giving him a hand-job under the table.”

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