i feel like such a creep!!

Just Go With It (Prof! Rogers x Reader)

Chapter One | Chapter Two

Previous Chapter

Word Count (2,972)

AN: sorry i’m such a dramatic bitch

Steve Rogers would be a liar if he said he hadn’t been thinking of calling you up and asking you on a date. He’d also be a liar if he said his palms weren’t sweating up a storm as he waited for both of your coffees to be finished. After quickly locking up his office he had walked you down the street to this nice little cafe, earning grins from plenty of his students when you two entered. You kept nodding as he spoke and fiddled with your fingers to keep busy.

You were nervous and for some reason he was scared to know why.

When he approached the booth you had settled into, he set your cup down and sat across from you, you smiled your thanks at him and took a sip.

“So, uh.. Why are you here?” he asked and your eyes locked with him and he cleared his throat, “Not that.. It’s a problem! You look great by the way,” he said quickly and you couldn’t help but smile.

Steve relaxed, and sighed, “Sorry, I’m just-”

“Nervous?”

Keep reading

The Missing Case of Lance McClain

When Keith stepped out of the meeting room he quickly ducked to the right to take his hair down. Letting it flutter over his shoulders, he sighed.
Hunk watched with a sad expression, putting on a smile to comfort his friend, “I hope it is going well at least,”
“I think it is,” Keith glanced at him, “Or it’s going horrible and I’m just delusional,”
Hunk chuckled then trailed off, eyeing the clock, “Keith, shouldn’t you be heading home?” He inquired from the back, cleaning out the glasses with a dish towel.
Strolling over to the island table, Keith casually leaned against it and shook his head, “I can’t,” he tells the lovable bartender, “This meeting is drawing out. We are just on a break,” Not that he enjoyed sharing their meeting at a bar in the first place, it was different simply because it was Hunk’s place. He kept it clean, very classy.
“I don’t know how you can keep up with those guys,” Hunk shakes his head, “I don’t understand half of what they are saying,”
“It’s not easy,” Keith shrugs, grateful when Hunk slide over a small drink to him. Knowing his friend would keep the drink light, especially for tonight, he chugged it down without much thought. Exhaling at the slight burning sensation of the alcohol, he handed the glass back to him.
“How long do you boys have left?”
“Not sure,”
“Lance must be waiting for you,” Hunk shifts his gaze a little, like he wants to say something else but is holding back. Keith curses, glancing at the time. That’s right, he told Lance he would be home 30 minutes ago.
Saluting Hunk, he steps away to pull out his phone. Quickly dialing his boyfriend’s number he barely waited a second before there was an answer.
“Keith?”
“Hey, Babe,” he moves to a quiet area, plugging his other ear to hear Lance better.
“You still at Hunk’s?” Lance asked.
“The meeting-” Keith was cursing himself, “I’m so sorry Lance, I’m late. I know we agreed to have dinner tonight but the meeting isn’t even close to getting done. I might not be home until late,” he kicks his shin, despising his inability to simply make time for the love of his life.
There is a small sigh from the other end, “This is the 5th time,”
Keith’s heart aches, “I know,” He wanted to say he would make it up to Lance, and they could share dinner a different night, but he had said that four times already. “Lance, honey I-”
There is a small chuckle, “It’s okay, Keith,”
“What?” he could hardly believe his ears
“We’ll just plan for another night. I know you’ve been busy and I know this is important to you,”
In fact, it had been Keith’s dream for years. Shiro and him were finally going to open their own business, taking on the world together just like they had planned as children. Of course Lance and Allura were apart of this plan now, which Keith was thrilled about, but the planning and getting it all up, assuring that nothing went wrong, was drawing out.
He had to cancel every date for the last two months with Lance. The only time he seemed to see him anymore was early in the morning just before he headed out or late at night, when Lance had already gone to bed for his own day at work.
They had been dating for over two years now, having met at college. Having crushed on Lance since their freshman year, he still couldn’t believe someone as amazing as him loved a hot head like himself.
“I promised I’d be there,” Keith sighs heavily. He new Allura and Shiro had been having similar problems with their relationship, but he still managed to make time for her and didn’t cancel 5 dates in a row….
Keith needed to ask his secret.
“And you’ll just be back a little later than planned,” there is a soft undertone to Lance’s voice. It’s hard for Keith to tell if Lance really means it or is just putting up a brave front. “I’ll see you more when your business finally gets going and you don’t have to suck up to all these men in suits,” Lance assures him.
Touched, feeling as though he just fell in love with Lance a bit more with how understanding he was, he smiles, “I love you,”
Lance giggles, “I love you too. So go knock the socks off those business men. I’ll see you when I see you,”
No tomorrow, no tonight, just at some point- because they both knew Keith’s promises meant very little at this point. That fact hurt, but Keith swallows it down.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Again, I’m so sorry, Lance. I hope you weren’t planning anything big or had to cancel anything because of this,”
“I actually made dinner, so no it wasn’t anything big. Just an evening at home is what I thought we could do. It just leaves more spaghetti for me.”
Keith mentally groans in distress. He loved Lance’s home made spaghetti- how was he possibly missing this??
“That sounds amazing right now,”
Lance purposively takes bite, drawing out a delighted humming noise, “You are missing out. My cooking skills knows no bounds in the world of spaghetti~”
“I am,” he agrees. There is a long pause that turned into a moment too long, “Lance?”
There was no reply at first.
“Lance, baby? You still there?”
“I uh- Yeah.”
“You okay?”
“I’m fine,” he tells him. “You do what you have to do, sweet heart. I love you,”
Keith can already see the men beginning to enter the room. In any other case, he would have stayed to ask what was on Lance’s mind, but he could see Shiro waving for him to come back. He thought that if he could finish this meeting soon, he could surprise Lance and be home within the next hour or so. “Yeah, I gotta go. You sure you are okay? You aren’t mad?”
“It wasn’t a big deal, Keith. Just some dinner. I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge and we can try to have lunch together or something,” Lance assures him with a bubbly voice. Keith, like a fool, believed him.
With a kissing sound, he said goodbye and hung up.
He should have kept talking to him.
He should have gone home to be with him.
He should have thought it was weird how Lance was quiet for so long.
————————-
“It wasn’t a big deal, Keith. Just some dinner. I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge and we can try to have lunch together or something,” Lance assures him.
There is a pause on the other end of the line before Keith mumbles a goodbye to him and makes a kiss noise. Not much of a goodbye, but Lance couldn’t really complain at this point.
Listening to the to silence of his phone, Lance slowly lowered his palm back to his lap. Sinking into his chair, he sighs, looking over the set up he had spent hours making.
Candle lit dinner surrounded by roses and quiet music.
He had hand made the dinner, gotten Keith’s favorite wine- hell, he even dressed up all nice to surprise Keith when he got home.
He lied when he said it wasn’t a big deal to him. Reaching into a pocket, Lance pulled out a small box. Popping it open he stared at the ring inside.
They say third time’s the charm, but they just bombed their fifth attempt. Was the universe just against him getting Keith to himself long enough to propose? Was it so hard?
He had even gotten Hunk involved in this, asking for him to help pick out the ring with him 2 months ago. Since coming into possession of it, there had been nothing but problems in them meeting up.
Keith was just too busy. When lance did manage to see him, he was so tired- he couldn’t bare to take more of his sleep away.
Lance knew this is what Keith wanted, and he did his best to be supportive and understanding. The first month was easy and the second one got a little difficult. They were rounding month three here soon, and Lance was feeling a little… neglected?
He shouldn’t be.
Keith still loved him- he just couldn’t be around.
He just had to be patient.
Sighing, knowing he should get all of this cleaned up, he blew out the candles. He didn’t want Keith to come home to see all of this and feel guilty- especially after telling him it was fine.
Quickly brushing the petals into a little pile to sweep up later, he went to grab the broom. Navigating their quiet home, located out in the suburbs of the city, Lance purposively clicked on some depressing music to listen to.
Of course the first thing to come on was Celine Dion’s All by myself.
He dramatically sang along to the tune, hoping that accepting his loneliness would make some of the pain go away. It wasn’t really working.
Turning the music off, Lance paused at the sound of creaking down the hall. Recalling the sound from earlier during his call with Keith, he turned on the hallway light and peered down it. Thinking it was their cats, he clicked his teeth to get them to come forward.
“Blue, Red,” he says, “Come give me some sugar in my time of need,” he whines at them. Rounding the corner, he peered into his living room to find nothing. He stepped in to squint under the couch and around them, knowing their cats like to lollygag around the premises. “Blue? Red?” he inquired. Locating Blue below the chair in the corner of the room, he smiled at her. “Hey beautiful,” he was shocked when she hissed at him. “That isn’t nice,” he scolded, “What did I do?”
A moment later she shot out, scrambling past his knees. Feeling a chill creep up his spine he turns to follow her. She ran past the window, which had been lifted, opened to the world outside. Not recalling leaving the window open, he closed and relocked it.
Officially freaked, always hating being home alone, he quickly scurried back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. He had just managed to grab the plates when the creaking noise returned.
When he turned, he screamed.


(I was asked to show my angst fics… well here is one! I love mystery, so I’ll do my best to write it!!)

anonymous asked:

I don't feel like I should of clicked the picture of Johnny by himself, I haven't ever felt this way about any crime pictures you've ever posted, I feel odd now.

it’s an extremely disturbing image, even I was creeped out and i’m used to seeing crime scene photos.

anonymous asked:

Oooh, the feels on the last one, I wonder what happened? Was there an explosion? Was the murder child involved? I could see a scenario where the two got caught up in an explosion caused by that creep, or maybe they fell off a cliff or something?! What a tragedy!!!

Yep, what happened? I have no clue tbh, it could be anything >3>

tbh i saw it as some sort of explosion/fire involved thing, yes, i drew some embers flyin here and there yes i did

3

Finally settled on a dress for a wedding I have next weekend.

I felt good in it at first but the more I look at it the more I feel like I look huge. I know I don’t it’s just those old insecurities creeping back up on me

Today is a ‘punch in the gut’ kind of anxiety day.

One of those that you recognise as soon as you wake up, because everything crawls beneath your skin and is ‘not right’ from the onset.

I guess it was time, after several really good days.

It’s not that bad, it’s manageable, mostly because I’m home and I can hyperfocus and I don’t have to People or Do. It’s not something that I haven’t dealt with more or less for the past twenty years or so, but it’s sometimes a bit unsettling, and at times, I might even communicate about it.

I am alright as long as I hyperfocus on something, but whenever I’m dragged out of it the anxiety will creep up on me and making my stomach knot and my sternum feel like it’s made by something… heavy. It’s making most things I think about seem either scary, overwhelming, meaningless or extremely sad. I like to think of it as a kind of ‘contagious’ effect where my anxiety manages to discolor most things it touches, even if it’s just a thought. With some exceptions. What I am grateful for, and what’s made fandom so important to me, is that anxiety doesn’t often infect my ability to use Sherlock as a ‘safe place’ to dive into when things get like this.

Let’s just say that there will be a lot of writing done today, because it seems hyperfocus on writing works today.

*writes like crap but escapes the ‘afterglow’ of anxiety*

gilmore-grohls  asked:

Anon who wants to hear your voice needs to chill... like we're all curious but sending messages every fucking day for the past like 3 days is a little weird... like that would creep me out a little idk if it creeps you out but fuck man.... it's weird.

Idk I didn’t think about it like that
But as I’ve said - I post selfies/whatever related to me so to say whenever I feel like it and no anon will make me do it no matter how much they want me to
Hope I make sense
😋

I don’t know all the reasons why I like dark things, and I don’t think I need to know them all, but… I was just looking at the blog of that person who said I “dehumanize and fetishize” gay men, and I saw that he was quite young (15) and his blog was all full of pastel colors and references to his mental illness and something dawned on me that I hadn’t thought about in a Tumblr context at all.

Part of my PTSD is about experiences I had in hospitals, and because of that one of my triggers is… not pastels, all by themselves, but like… have you ever stayed in a hospital as a kid? And everything is covered in soothing soft colors and all the nurses wear scrubs with like… cute animal drawings on them and everyone talks in a sing-song voice and reassures you things won’t hurt when they OBVIOUSLY will and you’d rather they tell the truth, accept that you have good reasons to be scared, and get it the hell overwith?

Yeah, I think I just figured out why those kids’ blogs give me a weird tingly feeling of creeping dread.

And I think I figured out, also, where my intense leeriness of “safe spaces” and trigger warnings comes from too–even though as a person with PTSD I’m supposed to want them.

It’s because in my experience, people who were trying to make me feel safe were LYING. They were lying because it was in their interest–in mine, too, but in theirs–for me to feel calm and soothed. For me not to feel despair, or anger, or blind screaming rage.

…Is it any wonder I like the stories where the people with the knives and the cruel smiles and the mind games are blatant about it? Or that I might want a few knives of my own, even though I have no desire to hurt anyone who isn’t going to get off on it?

I don’t want those kids to not need safety.

I want them to stop pretending safety looks the same for everyone.

Celebrating 20 Years of Harry Potter with Illustrator @taryndraws

For more Harry Potter-inspired illustrations, follow @taryndraws on Instagram.

Like millions of others around the world, Taryn Knight (@taryndraws) first discovered the magical world of Harry Potter when she was a young girl, and hasn’t stopped loving it since. “I just kept reading them over and over,” she says of author J.K. Rowling’s book series. “Something just clicked. I was immediately obsessed.”

It wasn’t until Taryn, a Colorado-based freelance illustrator, was older that her love for all things witchcraft and wizardry began to manifest itself in her drawings. “I didn’t do a lot of art when I was first reading the books,” she says. “But once I started drawing regularly, my passion for Harry Potter began to creep in.”

Taryn, a self-proclaimed Hufflepuff, is excited about the celebration surrounding #HarryPotter20, the 20-year anniversary of the UK release of the first book in the series, “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.” “It seems to be reigniting everyone’s love for the Potter world,” she says. “It feels a bit like that old familiar buzz of a new book release.”

Aftermath

Title: Aftermath
Characters: Hanji Zoe x Levi
Genre: Humor / Angst
Rating: T

@levihanweek​ Day 2: Nightmare

Levi’s Nightmare: Having a heart-to-heart with Pastor Nick.


“Are you worried about your wife?”

The question shocked him out of his musings.

Levi looked up, “My what?”

But the pastor was already speaking, “You’re obviously beside yourself with stress – and it’s understandable. Not knowing if your wife has survived-”

Levi cut him off, “My what?”

The pastor hesitated, apparently realizing he’d made some mistake, but misunderstanding precisely what it was. “Your…wife? The woman we traveled with before? She’s ah – forceful. You two uh – have the same, er – strident personality. When we first met, she dangled me off the wall.”

Keep reading

Thoughts on Draco and Kids.

Draco “eternal stick up my ass i hate everyone including you” Malfoy is not the person parents want to babysit their kids. He’s rude, blunt, sarcastic and foul. He’s the man who would save a baby from a fire solely because he knows what the parents would say if he didn’t. Draco Malfoy is the man who sets infants in cribs and leaves them to cry themselves to sleep. He never had a happy childhood, so why should they?

Except he’s not.

Draco Malfoy is the man who sings lullabies to a newborn Rose Weasley and rocks her to sleep. He’s the man who gave Teddy Lupin his first broomstick and taught him to fly, but not before teaching him to read and write. He’s the man who stargazes with Hugo and brings him chocolate when he’s feeling down. He’s the man who holds life in his arms and sees it for what it is: an innocent, precious gift. He never had a happy childhood growing up, and he’s going to give them something that he, as the boy who had everything, never had: childhood memories worth remembering.

Draco Malfoy is not the man people think he is, but the reasons behind his reluctance in sharing are unknown.

Harry saw him hold Teddy Lupin in his arms after his trial. They sat in a room waiting for his mother and Andromeda outside. He was awkward at first and the tears came before the smiles. Had Harry Potter not done what he’d done… a chubby hand with fingers the size of his nails non-too-gently patted his cheek after a few tears had fallen, and knowing how annoying children could be when upset, Draco smiled softly and wiped his eyes. One silly face turned into two, and that dark brown tuft of hair turned the exact shade of his white-blonde locks. He screamed, Harry laughed, Teddy cried, the hair was back to brown.

“He does that,” Harry remarked and gently bounced the child back to sleep.

Draco Malfoy went out for coffee with Harry Potter two weeks later. One cup turned into two, one meeting turned into five, one shop turned into a house. Three months later one quick babysitting date turned into one late night stay for his baby cousin. Draco Malfoy kissed Harry Potter that night with one soft infant snore in the background.

He met Victoire Weasley a few months later at the burrow for Christmas Eve Dinner. Molly Weasley’s pumpkin pudding did nothing to ease his nerves and the hard stares of George from across the table. Ginny smiled at the door, and Molly smothered him with hugs and food.

“As thin as Harry, young man… As thin as- Here, have some more potatoes!”

One plate turned into two, and by the end of the night he must’ve gained half his weight from treacle tarts alone.

Bill was strumming a guitar and not wanting to stand in the doorway besides George, Draco left for the kitchen. Three minutes later and a halfhearted argument won, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his hands were scrubbing plates.

“Always do it the muggle way,” she’d said. He couldn’t remember the rest. Near the end Victoire unsteadly crawled into the room. Her hair stuck up on one side of her head and it was clear the child had been sleeping. Sleep lines on her face didnt cover the dried spit all over her chin, and Draco smiled gently as he bent to down to pick her up.

“Miss Victoire,” he’d called her that first time. Laying her horizontal in his left arm, he wiped her chin and rocked her back to sleep. He continued to help clean the room with one hand, and didn’t miss Molly Weasley’s smile.

When Rose came along, Harry was already the favorite babysitter. He and Harry had been living together for quite some time, although it was clear the resident Weasley parents saw Harry as the sole caretaker on work days. They flooed in, asking if ‘Harry could babysit?’/p>

Draco didn’t mind, he never talked much about children. He liked them, but when Harry was blowing raspberries at Teddy on the dining room table, he didn’t take Teddy for himself.

Very few people know him as who he is, Draco and not Draco Lucius Malfoy. He takes pride in his name, but takes more pride in making Dominique smile when she’s pouting and teaching Rose the wand movements for 1st year charms at just 8 years old. He takes pride in his intellect and control, but takes more pride in perfecting his Princess Victoire and Teddy the Dragon voice when reading aloud Teddy’s favorite book.

Nine years later, at Christmas Eve dinner, while Arthur opened the wine bottles, Draco dismissed himself silently and walked upstairs. In the children’s room, Harry was laughing with the kids when he saw Draco standing in the doorway with a smile on his face. He looked back to the kids and stood up. When he told them Draco would read a special story, all protests at Harry’s departure ceased.

When Fluer walked up to kiss her three children goodnight, she had to stop herself from entering the room. Two minutes later, and the rest of her family was beside and behind her, staring into the room. With a high pitched voice, Princess Victoire shouted out from Draco’s lips.

“I may be short, and I may be a princess, but I’m strong! I’ll save my baby sister from that dragon!”

“The baby princess!” Dominique interuppted, and Draco smiled and nodded before turning the page.

When the voice of Teddy the Dragon came out of his mouth, Teddy the Human let out a pitched growl. “I’m gunna eat you!” He shouted and Hugo giggled.

“Hurry Uncle Draco! Ted’s gon eat 'Toire!” Rose added.

It started to make sense, and some adults found themselves laughing along with their kids. Things began to connect, and suddenly it was clear to the Weasley’s. Why their children, and grandchildren, called him “Uncle Draco.“ Why they screamed happily and ran up to hug Harry and Draco during babysitting days. Why Teddy spent half his childhood with white-blonde hair.

Two weeks later after the Hols had ended, Draco got a fire call from Hermione Granger. Almost immediately, he stood up and brushed off his pants.

“Hermione. Hello. Harry’s, uh, upstairs; I can go get him, if you’d-”

“Oh no, it’s fine.” She cut him off, and before Draco could feel the awkwardness creep up his veins, she had already continued on. “Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to babysit…?”

smile ✦ peter parker

summary : as the adopted daughter of none other than tony stark, you have a myriad of responsibilities. babysitting peter parker probably wasn’t supposed to be one of them. not that you’re complaining.

word count : 4.7k (also known as the longest thing I’ve ever written)

author’s note : ur adopted b/c not everyone is white and i don’t want anyone to feel excluded from reading this due to the fact tony is white (and yes ik there are interracial couples i just want everyone to feel included i want to make sure whoever wants to read this can without feeling weird about it b/c i know it is something that bothers people in the fanfic community okay bye enjoy my loves.)

   Tony Stark was a lot of things to a lot of people. He was the billionaire, he was the genius, the philanthropist, and the notorious playboy in his younger years. Most notably, however, was that he was Iron Man. He was marveled at by the entire world, him and the group of heroes that stood beside him; the Avengers, as they called themselves. To you, however, he was your father. 

   A terribly overprotective one, at that. 

  Of course, this was only to be expected of a father, even a foster one, but the lengths the man went to in order to keep his only daughter out of whatever he deemed trouble were rather extensive. You rarely ever left the Avengers tower, and if you did you were accompanied by a team of people you could only describe as rip off Secret Service men. Sometimes, Natasha would replace them, or Steve, but that was a rare occurrence. You were homeschooled by the best tutors his money could pay for- this particular move was less about refining your education and more about keeping you away from any boy in the five boroughs. 

   You chose to spend majority of your time reading in your room and training, always wary of anyone who approached you about being a friend. Your surname meant everything to people, especially the girls that wandered around Manhattan desperate to become the bestie of the daughter of the richest man in New York. You loved your dad with all your heart, but the stigma that ran with the Stark name would never stop irritating you. 

   That, and the impromptu plans he threw at you on a regular basis. 

   “Miss Stark, your father is requesting access to your room. He knows you hate it when he barges in.” Vision drifted into your room without warning, making you jump. You yanked your earbuds out of your ears, giving him a look. 

   “I hate when anyone barges in, Vision. That includes you, too.” You pushed your chair away from your desk, placing your pen on the desk and shutting your notebook. “Tell him he can come in if he lets me become an Avenger.” You raised your voice at this, knowing he would hear you. 

   “He says that he’ll consider it if you let him in.” 

   You raised your eyebrows. “Touché.” You motioned for the door to open, and your father walked into the room, immediately taking his pristinely polished shoes off and lying down on your bed. You stared at him.“Dad, it’s not cool to wear sunglasses inside. You look lame.” 

   Tony Stark rolled his eyes at you. “It’s called a look, sweetheart.” You laughed, pretending to nod in agreement. He placed his hands behind his head as you spun your chair back around to your desk. “What are you working on?” 

   “Something for Bruce,” you muttered, pen cap between your teeth as you continued to jot down important points from his numerous lab reports. You were going to have to hand in a full analysis of his findings for your end of term science paper, and he was more than willing to aid you. “Science report.” 

   “My daughter, beautiful and intelligent, my flesh and blood,” Tony declared proudly. 

   “Dad, I love you to the death, but I’m still not your biological kid,” you smiled all the same, though, and he knew behind the tough exterior you were happy to hear his expressions of admiration. 

    “Who needs a biological kid when I’ve got this great, wonderful adopted one right in front of me.” 

   Not looking up from your notebook, you said, “You’re really laying it on thick today. I’m all of those things, obviously, but I know you want something. So, what is it?” You paused, then said, “Thank you, by the way.” 

   “You sure we’re not related?” He sat back up, clasping his hands together. “What do you say about Germany?” 

   “Nice enough place I guess, interesting history, why?” 

   “I kind of need you to go there for two weeks with me.” 

   With a groan, you dropped your pen and held your face in your hands. “Another surprise trip? Dad, I have school. I have homework! Do you see this?” You held up the thick stack of reports from Banner’s lab, waving them around. “This is gonna be, like, my life’s work.” 

   Tony shook his head. “Kids these days and their homework. Seriously. When I was at school I would have taken any opportunity to shirk my responsibilities.” 

  “You did do that.”

    He waved his hand. “Technicalities. Anyway, as you know the Avengers have been disassembled. Sokovia Accords and all that bullshit. I assume you’ve been keeping up?” 

   “Hard not to.” It was true. Anything in the news was about the great split of the infamous team, Captain America vs Iron Man. It was impossible to turn on the television without hearing about it. And, considering you lived underneath the same roof as half of them, it was quite literally not an option to be ignorant to what was going on. 

   “Good,” he grinned proudly again. If there was one emotion that the man felt whenever he was around, it was proud. Nearly everything you did made him beam with pride, and if you had been placed into an actual high school, there was no doubt in his mind that the person at the top of every single class would be you. You excelled no matter the circumstances. “So, to sum up, there’s gonna be a big showdown in Germany. Western style, naturally. Guns blazing and everything.” 

   Your eyes lit up and you nearly flew out of your chair, rushing over to him. “Oh my god, are you finally gonna let me fight? You’ve seen my training, right? I’m getting so good. I’m like, practically Natasha level good. She’s been showing me that move where I can snap people’s necks with my thighs and-” 

   “First of all, your thighs are not going around anyone’s neck, so jot that down,” he interrupted. Your enthusiasm visibly deflated. “I need you to kind of watch over this kid who’s coming with us. He’s from Queens. You love Queens.” 

   “You’re making me babysit?” You flopped down on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. “C’mon, dad, I’m sixteen. That’s practically an adult. I think I should be allowed to fight this time. I’m Avenger worthy.” 

   “Practically an adult is not the same as literally an adult, as in over eighteen.” You groaned again. “Don’t call it babysitting, anyway. He’s your age. Well, he’s a few months younger, but that doesn’t matter. Just call it… hanging out with a good kid that’s fighting for your dear old dad and making sure he doesn’t get into trouble in Germany or annoy Happy too much.” He patted your knee, standing up. “We leave in the morning, kiddo, so pack up.” 

   “How come he gets to fight if he’s younger than I am?” 

   “’Cause he’s not my daughter. Goodnight, light of my life.” He kissed your forehead before leaving, giving you another encouraging smile.

   “Goodnight, pain my ass,” you grumbled as he left. He popped back in, a stern expression on his face. “If I watch your new protégée can I become an Avenger?” Tony rubbed a hand over his eyes. Teenage girls were exhausting. 

   “We’ll talk about it.”


   You’re sitting at your breakfast table with suitcases piled next to you when Peter Parker strolls into your life with happiness in his every footstep because he is just so, so glad to be there. You’re spooning cereal into your mouth when he sits down directly across from you, a video camera cupped in his soft looking hands and the little red button clicked on, meaning that he is recording you. You place your spoon back into the bowl of milk that is dusted with cinnamon sugar from the Cinnamon Toast Crunch you’ve been eating for the past ten minutes. 

   “Do you mind?” 

   “Mind what?” He asked, peeking up from behind his camera. You gestured toward it, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. 

   “The camera. I’m kind of still in the middle of eating breakfast in my pajamas,” you leaned forward, switching it off. “You must be the Spider-Boy.” The chestnut haired boy feels a blush creeping up his neck and settling along his cheekbones when you say that. 

   “Oh, did Mr. Stark tell you that?” He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly. “Um, it’s Spider-Man, actually.” He mumbled the man part, knowing fully well that he didn’t look like much of a man in the eyes of anyone, his eyes casting down as he fidgeted with the strap on his camera. 

   “Oh good,” you nodded. You took another spoonful of cereal. “I like that better. Nicer ring to it.” You grabbed your box of sugary breakfast and pushed it toward him, an offering. 

   “Huh?” He was a bit dazed. He stared at the box in front of him and then realized he had been doing that for far too long of a time to be considered normal. “Oh, right, um, sure, thanks!” He opened the box and took a handful, shoving it in his mouth. You kept eating your cereal, silently staring at the bowl and willing yourself not to laugh at the boy in front of you. With all his nerves, he was still a bundle of energy and cheerfulness, and, well, let’s face it, he was sort of adorable. “So, you think my name’s cool?” He tried to sound suave, charming, as he said it, tried to smirk at you, but he stopped when he realized that he looked stupid.

   You gave him a half smile. “It’s pretty good.” His face positively lit up with happiness to be taken seriously, and you knew the feeling too well. You stuck out your hand. “Oh, forgot to introduce myself-” 

  “Y/N Stark, adopted daughter of Mr. Stark, probably the smartest girl in all of New York and, uh, correct if I’m wrong but… Black Widow’s best student as well as Bruce Banner’s apprentice.” 

   You gaped at him. The blush he had been sporting crept up to his ears and made his nose turn the shade of a strawberry. “Well, uh, yeah,” you said, flustered. “Should I creeped out or flattered?” 

   “Flattered, please.” The genuine worry in his eyes as he leaned forward made you laugh. He had an endearing personality. 

   “Flattered it is.” You watched the slow sigh of relief leave his mouth, his hands flying up the mess of hair atop his head and fixing it distractedly. Your dad walked into the room, and Peter practically fell out of his chair trying to stand up and seem presentable. Your slouch was indicative that you didn’t care much. He was just your dad. “Morning, pops,” you slid the box over his way.  

   He frowned at it.” Y/N, that stuff is crap. I don’t know why you eat it.” 

   “Wanda and I like it,” you said defensively, a slip of the tongue. You knew your dad was going to get annoyed at the mention of the Scarlet Witch, who had evaded and ignored his attempts at keeping her powers under control. “It’s good. High quality. Right, Peter?” You whipped your head toward him. 

   He felt his heart give a little tug. He grabbed the box out of your hand and shoved more cereal in his mouth, the cinnamon sugar sticking to his lips. “Yeah, Mr. Stark. Best stuff ever,” he said through a mouthful of it. Tony gave them an amused glance, picking up your two heaviest suitcases and beckoning you both to the landing strip. Peter swallowed his food. 

   He didn’t even like Cinnamon Toast Crunch that much. He was just thrilled that you knew his real name.


   Everything about this kid was infuriatingly dorky in the cutest way possible. You came to this conclusion as you boarded the jet with ease, sitting in your usual spot by the window and greeting Happy with your typical friendly smile and idle chitchat. Peter stumbled onto it with awe written across his features as he stared around the place, touching nearly everything much to Happy’s dismay. 

   “Haven’t you been on a plane before?” The man asked, growing irritated with the way the kid was filming everything. You saw Peter zoom in on Happy’s face and grinned out your window. 

   “Nope, never!” Peter exclaimed, his video camera still in front of him as he captured every detail of his trip. 

   “Well, sit down so we can take off,” Happy said gruffly, grabbing Peter’s shoulders and forcefully placing him into a seat. 

  Peter sat still for a moment, then hopped over to the seat next to you. He placed his camera in front of him on the tray table. “Y/N, smile for the camera. I’m recording.” You looked at him, then turned to the camera and gave it a deadpan stare. You even threw in a slow blink. “Good enough,” he shrugged. He kept it recording as he shifted in his seat so that his entire body was facing you, his chin resting in his hand and his elbow on your armrest. His gaze was sort of nice. “So, Miss Stark, I have a few questions.” 

   “Um, okay, shoot,” you closed your book that you had open on your lap. “I’m not that interesting, just so you know.” 

  “I think you’re interesting,” he assured you. You heard Happy let out a choked laugh at Peter’s flirting attempt, but it was just another thing you found sort of lovely. It was a genuine compliment. “What’s your favorite subject in school?”

   You’d been expecting the typical what’s it like being Tony’s daughter spiel, and you were pleased to get an actual question about yourself for once. “I like everything, I guess. I kind of love school, but I don’t go to a conventional school, so. Training is cool, I like that a lot.” 

   “You train with Black Widow, I have to ask- can you show me some moves? I need to refine my technique before the fight,” he explained.  

    “Do you wanna learn how to crush people with your thighs?”

   “Wow! Do you think I could? Could you teach me? That’s so cool,” he beamed, turning to the camera for a split second with an overexcited look. 

   You pursed your lips, staring out your window for a minute. You were up in the air by now, and there was long flight ahead of you. “Maybe. If my dad is okay with it. I have to check.” Peter looked confused, 

   “Why wouldn’t he be?” 

   “He’s, you know, really overprotective.” You put your first against the cheek, leaning the same way that Peter was. You sighed. “I don’t have a lot of friends. Which is fine, but I can’t even attempt to go make any because I have a whole freaking SWAT team on my ass the minute I step out of the tower because he’s so worried about my safety.” You let your head hit the window, your eyes rolling skyward. “And that makes no sense because-” 

   “You’re really strong and stuff. You can protect yourself,” Peter finished. 

    “I think you know me a little too well, Peter,” you said, poking him lightly in the arm. “But… yeah, exactly. I don’t really get to do anything fun. I don’t have adventures. Sure, reading is fun and studying is fun for me and training is great and I love hanging out with everyone in the tower but I’m still a teenager. No fun for me, though. My life is pretty boring, sorry if that makes your little video diary suck.” You stuck your tongue out at his camera.  

   “No worries,” he said, taking it off the tray table and turning it toward you. “Tell me every boring detail, Miss Stark.” 

   “As long as you stop calling me Miss Stark.” 

   “You’ve got a deal.” 

   It was a seven hour trip, and you both passed out by the three hour mark after Peter had pried every excruciating detail from your life out of you. You hated sleeping on airplanes, but your head was slumped against his shoulder and his arm was knocking against your own and his sweatshirt was as soft as pillow. You remembered the shy glance he had given you just before you knocked out on his shoulder for the remainder of the flight. He had a sweet smile. 


    Peter filmed absolutely everything. He filmed himself getting off the plane and then filmed you getting off the plane and nearly shoved the camera in Happy’s face until he threatened to break it and Peter backed off. He radiated enthusiasm. “Look at this, and this, and this, oh shit wow that’s so cool look at this! Oh man this is good stuff!”

   “Peter this is literally just the airport how am I supposed to take you around the actual city?!”

   “OH WOW Y/N have you seen this!” 

    “Yes, Peter!” 

     He zoomed in on your face, your devoid of emotion look appearing again. “Are you ever gonna smile for the camera?” He gave you a pout, doe eyes and all. You turned away. 

   “No. I’m supposed to be babysitting you, please be behave.” You touched your fingers to the bridge of your nose, dragging Peter to a couch. “Please sit. We’re getting the hotel reservations checked.” 

   “Do they juice boxes? I’m really thirsty.” He was just trying to make you laugh at this point, and annoying you was kind of funny for him. You let out an involuntary chuckle when he pretended to claw at his throat, throwing himself on the ground. 

   “I’ll make sure they have juice boxes for you, Petey. You’re such a seven year old, geez.” You pretended to gag. 

   Looking offended, Peter replied, “I’m actually twelve.” 

   Jokingly, you said, “You’re a twelve year old that’s going to get a punch in the face if you don’t settle down right now.” He stood up, directly in front of you with his light eyes and little grin, another feverish looking heat burning at his face. Nevertheless, he still said, “It’d be an honor to get beaten up by you.” 

  His voice, the sincerity he carried within it despite the ludicrous statement, made you feel those famed butterflies fluttering inside you. Maybe it was the way he looked into your eyes as he said it. Maybe it wasn’t. But something within you was starting to like Peter Parker, and you’d barely known him for twenty four hours. 

   Then again, it was hard to not like Peter. The kid was just so damn likable. 


   He had known it from the moment he first set his eyes upon you that day in the tower that he was a goner. If he had known it then, just from sitting down across from you with nothing to him but his lanky figure and a suit that resembled a onesie more than it did a costume fit for a hero such as he, he was sure of it now, a week and a half later. 

   Every day had been the same routine. He’d be up bright and early in the morning so you could help with him his training, teaching him how to utilize the suit your father had given him with ease rather than his usual tactic of jumping into everything blind. You’d been the one to help come up with nearly all of the web shooter combinations. He didn’t know all of them yet, or close to half of them, but he was progressing wonderfully. 

   After training, you’d give him the tour of your favorite places around Germany, close enough to where you’d both be able to get back to the hotel before dark. He filmed the both of you constantly, but you shied away from the cameras every time without fail. He couldn’t understand why, but he didn’t push. He just liked filming in general, and would accept you not smiling in any of his clips as long as you were still in there. 

   There was a beautiful sense of normalcy that came with hanging around Peter. You reveled in it. No one had ever made you laugh so hard with his ridiculous attempts at jokes or made you smile so much at his shy flirting skills that clearly needed to be revisited. 

   It was okay. You didn’t mind. And the fact that you didn’t tease him for it made him so, so happy. 

   Then, came the day of the fight. Peter had his camera out, he was dressed in his spidey suit, and you were standing there next to him dictating who he should and shouldn’t go after. 

   “Don’t go after Wanda ‘cause she could obliterate you in two seconds and Cap could crush you, too, but he won’t ‘cause he’s really nice like that. Bucky won’t care as much, though, so don’t do that- Ant-Man seems pretty cool and harmless but I don’t have as much intel on him and Peter if you get hurt you have to go hide somewhere-” 

   “I’m not gonna get hurt,” he said confidently. 

   You ignored him. “I’m gonna be in your earpiece, figuratively speaking, so I’ll hear everything you do and if you talk I’ll be able to hear you and you can hear me. So, just… keep me updated.” Peter took off his mask for a second, hair sticking up everywhere from the static. You leaned up, smoothing it back into place. Everything about him was soft. You wanted to curl up in it and stay there for as long as you could. 

   “I’ll be fine, Y/N, don’t worry,” Peter placed his hand on your shoulder. You felt your face heat up. 

   “I- I’m not worried.” You totally were. “I know you’ll be fine.” You didn’t want him getting hurt. “I just want you to be careful.” You didn’t want him to fight. 

   You could’ve sworn his face fell a  bit when you said you weren’t worried, but he squeezed your shoulder anyway. Without a moment’s hesitation, you threw your arms around him, your nose pressing against his neck as you took a deep breath. He stood there for a second without doing anything until he realized that if he didn’t hug you back, he’d be the dumbest person on the face of the Earth. You felt his surprisingly defined arms hug you back. 

   You didn’t look at him when you pulled away. You stared at the spider emblazoned on his chest, gave him a quick good luck, then departed from the room. You sat on your own hotel bed with a rapidly beating heart.

    The nerves were killing you. Ten more minutes. You opened your laptop and pulled up the system that would allow you to communicate across Team Stark. You were more focused on your dad and Peter. You tapped into your dad’s earpiece after placing the headset on. “Dad?” You spoke into the microphone. 

   “Hey, kiddo, everything okay?” 

   “Y-Yeah I just-” you took another breath. “Be safe. I love you.” 

   “I love you too, Y/N. Are you sure everything is okay over there?” 

   “Can you just make sure Peter gets out okay? If he gets hurt, bring him right back, please. That’s it.” Maybe it was a stupid request in someone else’s eyes, but you needed Peter to make it back in one piece. Tony Stark looked over at Peter Parker, crouching in his hiding spot and fumbling around with the gloves of his suit and gave the kid a knowing smile. Of course that was the one his  daughter fell for in the end. Perfectly fitting. 

   “I’ll make sure.” You knew your father couldn’t see the grateful smile on your face, the sigh of relief that fell past your lips when he spoke these words.

   Peter Parker, I swear if you make it out of this, I will smile like an idiot in every single one of your stupidly adorable video diary things. I swear. Just be safe.


 “Your black eye is awful,” you told him, dabbing at it with more cream. “Totally ruins your face.”

   “I think I look manly.” 

   “You think incorrectly.” You stepped back, your fingertips tilting his chin up so you could examine it further. “I think I got the worst of it. You did really well, Peter. Exceptionally well.” His face was glowing from your compliment. 

   “Can I get on that tape?” He asked excitedly, ducking under his hotel bed for his camera. You nodded, and he switched the camera on. He held out his arm so that you were both in frame. And you smiled. He forgot all about what you were supposed to say the moment that beautiful smile appeared there. “I- wow, Y/N.” 

   “What?’ 

    His stare was kind as it usually was. “You just-” he paused. “Your smile is really, really beautiful.” There was no way for you to turn away from the camera this time and you were left grinning like a lovestruck idiot at the boy in front of you, leaning up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. 

  “Thank you.” 

  You slept the entire plane ride the way you had the last time, curled up against Peter. This time, it was intentional. One of your arms was flung across his waist and his was wrapped around your shoulders, the sweatshirt he had came in now swaddling you cozily. There were two separate cars waiting for you. You stood in between them when the flight got off, the sleeves of his sweater hanging off your hands as you reached out to grab his. He felt you push a piece of paper into his hand. “You better call me, Peter Parker. I’ll be really upset if you don’t.” 

   He wrapped you suddenly in an embrace that lifted you off your feet just a little bit, his lips pressing against your temple. “I’ll call you every day.” 


   He kept true to his word. Every day without fail, your phone rang with a call from Peter, and you fell asleep on the phone with him more often than not. If you weren’t on the phone with him, you were texting him, and if you weren’t doing that, you wished that you were. The consistent communication was better than nothing, but regardless, you missed his presence. You missed the way you felt walking next to him as he explained why chocolate ice cream was so clearly better than vanilla. You just missed him. 

   “Peter?” You held the phone to your ear, nestled in your blankets already even though it was barely nine o'clock. His sleepy voice mumbled out a yes? “Would it be stupid if I said that I missed you?” 

  She could practically hear his wide smile through the phone. “Of course not. I miss you, too. So much. Probably more than you miss me.” 

   “That’s so not true!” She scoffed. 

    “Wanna bet?” His tone was mischievous, no longer the hoarse, pretty voice of a boy just waking up from his nap. “Open your bedroom door.” 

    “Are you joking?” 

    You hung up the phone, throwing back your covers and not caring one bit that your hair was a dripping mess from your shower or that you were wearing  a terrible set of hello kitty pajamas that weren’t meant for anyone over the age of ten based on the size of the top. You nearly tackled him to the ground when you saw him standing in your doorway, a happy squeal escaping your lips. You were surprised he even got in, considering your dad wasn’t home, but you figured Vision had let him in. Vision always had a way of knowing. 

   “Have I ever told you that you have a really pretty smile?” Peter’s lips hovered over yours, almost hesitant. You took the initiative to kiss first, your hands delving into his silk-like hair. There was no point in waiting anymore. Your noses bumped together clumsily when he tilted his head back, admiring. You could feel your whole being light up when he gazed at you the way that he did, in that admiring, careful, Peter way of his. 

   “Careful, Spidey,” You warned, hands on his chest as you stared right back up at him. 

   “Careful of what?” He quirked an eyebrow. 

   “You’re going to make me fall in love with you one of these days if you keep looking at me like that.” It was only the truth, and you were a honest person.

   “That’s sort of the plan,” he shrugged in a seemingly careless way, but he couldn’t hide it. He was an open book. An open book who loved you, and the way that you smiled at him when he pulled back his sleeve to reveal a web shooter, a strange glint in those brown eyes of his as he said, “You up for an adventure?” 

2 minutes of exo's iconic english
from every era
2 minutes of exo's iconic english
  1. Girl I can’t explain what I feel
  2. Roll like a buffalo
  3. Wendy Cinderella
  4. I’m telling you
  5. Play another slow jam this is my property
  6. Baby girl
  7. Never don’t mind about a thing
  8. Shawty imma party til’ the sundown
  9. Lover & clover
  10. Goddess
  11. Creeping
  12. Hello angel
  13. Lovin’ the size
  14. You’re my little lady
  15. Don’t break my soul
  16. Touch it touch it baby
Sometimes, when it feels like missing you will kill me, I have to look back at how many days have gone by that I’ve survived without you. Ive learned to expand my mind, laugh again, have fun, get out of bed,  seek adventure with other people, and to begin to focus on my major. I did all of this without you. I would’ve rather had you there with me, but you weren’t and I'm still breathing. Every time I wish you were experiencing something with me, or I think about what you would say if you were here, or I feel the loneliness creeping up and consuming me, I remind myself that I’ve survived that feeling many times and that it won’t kill me. It will hurt like hell, but it can’t defeat me.
—  e.m. // like hell
Humans are weird: Songs everyone know.

Kun’aquk is new to this whole ‘bringing humans out into space’ thing, but he feels like he know what he’s doing. He’s read the guides, and has gotten help from other companions aboard the small (in his mind, not in the humans. Apparently, they don’t have ships as big as the average Galopertaions) ship, only containing a quonton full of alien species. 

Kun’aquk feels he knows what to expect, and how to deal with certain situations, like if a human goes missing or brings back a non-toxic Avregation as a ‘pet’. So, he braces himself, and heads down to the work station of the group of humans, referred to as the specialists. 

He rounds the corner and faces the gravitational steel door, waiting for entry. Nothing happens. He presses one of his talons against the communication button and speaks through it in a gargled voice.

“This is Kun’aquk of Sector 318. I am hear for an observation course.” He clicks off and waits for entry again. This time the gravitational door opens and he steps through. 

He is approached by a young human, and going by his observations, it is a female. 

“Hey sorry man, couldn’t hear ya. Jackson over there was playing his music too loud. I’m Gabbie.” She sticks out her appendage and bares her teeth. At first, Kun’aquk feels threatened, and almost raises the gland beneath his digestive sack to show dominance, but remembers this is the humans way of being “friendly”. He looks down and the pale appendage and looks back up at her face questioningly. “Oh, sorry. I’m Gabbie of Sector 561, Terra.” She lets her appendage drop, but continues to bare her teeth in a “smile”. “Take a seat where ever you need to. Please refrain from staring, I know that is something you species likes to do, but with the gooey sack in the front of your head, and the four eyes, it kinda creeps us out. No offense.” Kun’aquk’s ear tufts turn a shade of pink, for confusion, but he remains silent. “Uhh, hmm. Jackson likes to play his music, I like to knit in my free time. Sam over there likes reading, so you’ll find him doing that, and Sara, the one up on the supportive beams, likes to sculpt things out of spare parts. Today is our day off, so not much is going to be happening, if you don’t mind. Annndd.., that should be all. I think. If you have a question, feel free to say it out loud, it’s not rude.” Kun’aquk nods, and his eyes follow Gabbie back to her seat before he takes out his tablet and clicks a few buttons, taking notes down. 

It’s been a bit of time, an hour, as humans would call it. The room has a calm atmosphere, filled with music from Jackson, and clicks and clinks of metal from Sara as she sculpts. No one is talking, and everyone is minding their own business, when the song changed on the radio. It’s lyrics begin to fill the air.

“Young man. 

There’s no need to feel down. 

I said, young man, pick yourself off the ground.” 

“Is that YMCA?” Sara questions from the beams. Sam puts down his book.

“Yeah I think so.” Kun’aquk put’s down in his notes, “Are familiar to certain musical tunes.” 

Gabbie turns to Jackson. “Dude, turn it up!”

“You can. Stay there! And I’m sure you’ll find many ways to have. A. Good. Time.” 

“Shush it’s coming up!” Sam whispered while standing up with the rest of the group.

“It’s fun to stay at the Y,” The group of humans throw up their arms to form a ‘Y’. “MCA!” Everyone continues to move their body to match the letters being spoken in the song. Kun’aquk looks around in confusion. To humans regularly move their bodies to certain songs? The song ends, and the humans turn back to their activities, like nothing happened.

Kun’aquk turns to his tablet and writes in his notes.

“Humans recognize certain sounds produced by any creature. Do not make any recognizable sounds, as the humans will move their bodies as a way of intimidation.”

it kinda bothers me how ppl are always like ‘uhhh what do the creator’s mean ‘yuuri’s plain and average looking’, no. he’s b e a u t i f u l, lmao wtf are the yoi team even on how do they not see how lovely he is’ 

bc like??? 

yuuri IS plain. there’s nothing particularly remarkable about his appearance. he’s round when he’s not working hard to maintain the fitness levels he needs to skate. he doesn’t make a big deal out of his non-skating hair or clothing. his unremarkable appearance is probably? even more so to a japanese audience, but he’s beautiful anyway. 

his plainness doesn’t take away the fact that people think he’s beautiful. You don’t need to have ‘other-worldly features’ (like viktor is nearly always described as having lmao). You can be perfectly plain and breathtakingly beautiful. They’re not mutually exclusive things. 

Gummy Worm Giveaway (Peter Parker x reader)

Originally posted by guyattime

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Spider-Man swings in to save Y/N from a late night mugger. But, instead of gushing over her new hero, she easily realizes who’s behind the mask.

Requested: yes (anon)

Warning: language

Here’s number five! I’m hoping to put out my first prompt list request later tonight! Thx for sending this in! MASTERLIST BELOW!

MASTERLIST   <———–

__________________________________________________________________

All you wanted to do on this late Tuesday night was go down to the twenty-four hour shop and buy some gummy worms. Your hunger had been eating you up by the minute as you paced across your floor, debating your thoughts. You finally gave in to your grumbling stomach and hopped off your bed and out the door. Did your parents know you were out this late? No, because they were out this late at a work function, trusting you to be a good child and stay at home. But, did you listen? Of course not. Because your mind tended to flip from topic to topic, your sneaky thoughts always giving in.

So, you made the seven minute walk to the store. Seven minutes, that’s it. You would walk your hungry ass down happily all the way to the store, using your phone’s flashlight occasionally when approaching darkened areas on the streets, and walk in and buy your beloved gummy worms.

But now, you were certainly regretting that action. Once you turned the corner to continue your trek to your venture of a full stomach, you felt a presence take place quietly behind you. You didn’t dare turn around, an uneasy feeling filled your residence as you heard each footstep creep daringly behind you. Your pace quickened slightly as if on instinct, but you still stared dead on forward, continuing your now hopefully brisk walk to the store without company.

The deep breaths of the person slowed down, creeping closer and closer to your ear. Your blood began to run cold, fear hitting you suddenly like a truck as you thought to yourself, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, what do I do? Do I approach the seemingly creepy stranger, or do I pick my pace up as fast as I can and run my ass all the way there?”

Before your conscience decided what your heavily debated decision would be, you felt two hefty arms wrap themselves around your frame, yanking you off the ground.  Fear filled your eyes quickly, your heart beating at a rapid rate as you realized the situation you were in.

Your arms were being held tightly against your body, movement being stagnant at this point. Your legs flailed from your body as you felt a sweaty, dirty hand clamp itself over your mouth to hide your yet to be heard screams.

“Shh, shh. Stay quiet and give me all the fucking money you have or this won’t end well at all,” the stranger’s voice muttered in close proximity to your right ear, his breath hitting the side of your face as if a snake slithered along your jaw bone. You attempted to kick your legs back and forth, trying to wriggle out of his tight and horrid grasp on you, failing completely.

Running wasn’t option because you couldn’t. Yelling, screaming bloody murder for help wasn’t an option because you couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything. This psycho mugger was going to do god knows what to you and you had no fucking idea what to do.

In a split second, the mugger reached behind him, almost as if he was pulling out something to hold you down with while he stole every penny you had. Your eyes weren’t even filled with fear anymore, they were dazed with every frightful emotion you could possibly think of in the book.

But, before he could complete the task of pulling out some kind of weapon to scare you with, his grasp around you loosened completely as his body suddenly flew back, slamming into a pole. You immediately responded to the relieved feeling throughout your body, heaving a huge breath of air.

“Hey, buddy! Better think twice before attempting to mug someone in the middle of the night again!”

Your head snapped behind you, eyes widening to the size of saucers as the man who a just a few seconds ago had you in a death hold, was now trapped against the street-light, a spider-like web holding him in place.As he struggled to get out of his now death hold, your head moved in the the direction of a new presence taking place near you. Your eyes land on a red and blue suit standing on the building above you, mouth opening wide open at the person standing, well above you.

Spider-Man. He saved you.

Your stomach did a flip as the superhero stood clear as day, right in front of you. His black and white eyes looked down at your form, standing underneath the dim street-light and he smiled in his mask at your presence. He leaped down from the building, landing on the sidewalk in front of you. Your stature stood entirely still as he walked closer to you, shock filling your insides.

His lanky body walked towards you, his mask moving slightly as he asked you, “Are you okay?”

His concerned voice hit your heart and you melted, hating that someone could affect you like that. You just nodded your head slightly as you moved closer to the hero.

“Need a lift?”

__

“Thank you so much for saving me,” you spoke to him as soon as you gained composure after everything that’s happened. But, nervousness still rubbed your voice as you stood before him, outside your room on the fire escape.

He leaned against your bedroom window, folding his arms across his chest, “You’re welcome.”

Your face tinged pink at his casual yet sultry attitude towards the matter. You breathed a huge sigh before sitting on the small bench, your mind still running with thoughts of tonight’s previous events. Your head popped up at the sound of him moving from leaning against your window to walking towards you, “Can I just ask why you were out this late on a Tuesday night?” his voice scratchy and suspicious as his head tilted to the side almost trying to be amusing.

A slight smile spread across your face at his actions, chucking a little before responding, trying your best not to sound like a complete dumb ass, “I was hungry. Like, really hungry,” you emphasized the word really before continuing. p>

“I just wanted some gummy worms from that twenty-four hour store seven blocks away. Which obviously wasn’t the best idea.”

You finished, realizing that your attempt to not sound stupid completely failed you as Spider-Man leaned his head back, emitting a deep chuckle at your story.

“Obviously,” he muttered slyly, resting his hands on his hips.

Holy fuck.

“Hey Peter, you know that using the ‘Stark Internship’ card can’t get you away from everything, right?” you questioned your once again late lab partner in the middle of sixth period.

He sighed, rolling his eyes and sitting down next to you, “Obviously.”

You knew you’d heard that unrecognizable voice from somewhere. The scratchy yet slightly high voice rang in your ears so evidently it was almost as if someone had blown a bull horn in your ear.

Your eyes enlarged as the realization slapped you in the face. You didn’t think twice before shooting straight up from your spot, hands by your sides before yelling in exasperation, “PETER?”

“What?” he questioned, darting your way at the sudden sound of his name, not realizing he’d been caught. Once he saw your mouth agape like a fish, his eyes widened behind his mask, defeat taking over.

Your finger immediately shot up, pointing at him as you got closer to him. He saw your actions and backed away quickly, you two moving in circles for minutes before you shouted, “Oh my god it is you!”

He ripped his mask off and ran closer to you, both hands set on your shoulders as he began to shake your entire frame from shock, “Y/N you have to promise me won’t say anything to anyone!”

His wispy brown hair fell in front of his forehead, bright brown eyes staring directly into your Y/E/C ones. The fear and guilt radiated off his body you could sense it against you, your cheeks tinting pink at his sudden vulnerable state.

“I promise, Peter. I won’t,” you swore, truth flooded his ears and he began to felt somewhat ease with the you wide eyes standing in front of him.

He let you go and walked to stand next to you, arms leaning against the railing, a sigh emitting from his figure. You followed his actions your body becoming tired from all of tonight’s happenings.

Wait, why did this make him even cuter than before?

You laughed to yourself your weariness getting the best of you, causing you to think exceedingly truthful all of the sudden. You leaned over and saw his exhausted expression, knowing he never meant to let his secret let go so easily.

You nudged him with your shoulder, turning towards him, “If it makes you feel any better, having Peter Parker save me from a mugger was at the top of my bucket list.”

He looked in your direction, a smile spreading his pink lips, eyes smiling with it as he realized that as of right now, Peter was greater than Spider-Man.

And you knew it too.

2

Hello

At last, the first in a series of interconnecting one shots about my Victuri Merman AU!

I had so much fun drawing these, I hope you guys like them! These two drawings are based on the last scene in this one shot :D

This first one shot is bit short and possibly a bit slow but you need to know how they met first :) Then it’s just going to be fluff for days~

I haven’t written fanfiction in about 6 years. Please have mercy X’D

This is the only place this fic is posted at the moment since I don’t have an AO3 account. Anyone wanna help a fan out and send me an invite so I don’t have to go on a waiting list? X’D

Relatively short introductory one shot under the cut.

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