i know she's just blinking but i wanted to make it anyways

No, Wait, You Got it All Wrong

You know what there’s not enough of? Canon compliant future fic where Stiles is a cop and he runs into Derek again. What’s that you say? There’s a ton of that?? Yes, true, but NOT ENOUGH.

“…. so then he says, ‘No, Officer, I swear to God this is the first time I’ve ever smoked up! I’ve never been in trouble with the law in my life! And I say, Billy, my man, you’ve been in trouble with me personally twice this month.” Stiles snorts at the memory. “Kid was so fucking high.”

Amanda must be halfway past tipsy, because she laughs uproariously into her beer at the mediocre punchline.

Stiles smiles. He’s satisfied with her reaction, with the warm murmur of the bar, with the buzz he’s got going… with just about everything, actually. After tonight, he’s looking at two full days off before he’s back on the beat, and the night’s still young. He leans back in his chair and takes a pull of his beer, savoring it.

Amanda glances towards the bar, probably considering a fourth round, and then visibly perks up as something near the front catches her eye.

“Oooh, Stiles,” she croons. “Look over at the door, like, just glance over.” She’s adjusted her gaze down at the table now, faking casual disinterest. Badly.

Stiles raises his eyebrows at her.

“This dude just walked in, he’s so your type,” she hisses. “C’mon, look! I’m telling you, six feet two inches of ‘yes, please, give it to me’ muscles, with some salt-and-pepper scruff icing. Unff.”

“Eh,” Stiles says, tipping his weight forward to hunch over the table. It’s not that he isn’t interested, exactly, but this is a cop bar and he doesn’t want to shit where he eats. Metaphorically.

“No, really,” Amanda insists. “He's… oh my God, he’s looking over here. He’s looking at you. Oh my God, Stiles, he’s coming over here!”

“No, he isn’t,” Stiles scoffs. He’s filled out a bit from high school and he’s finally competent at styling his hair, but he’s not that hot. Only Amanda’s sitting straight like a rod, eyes fixed on a point behind him that’s about where a six foot two man’s eyes would be.

“Stiles?”

He turns then, shooting to his feet before his brain’s quite caught up, because that voice is familiar like the back of his own hand.

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Say That Again

Summary: Soulmate AU. Everyone hears a key word or phrase in their head from their soulmate, something only heard in person when the moment is right.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,543

Warnings: language, self-consciousness, fluff, that’s basically it

A/N: This is my submission for the lovely wonderful talented @bladebarnes’ 2k Celebration Challenge. My prompt was 35. quote: “Say that again.” I saw Baby Driver recently and couldn’t get the diner thing out of my head.

Originally posted by coporolight

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I don’t even know. I was taking a walk today and this idea popped into my head. I swear I’m still writing the bookstore AU, too. Also, *pops confetti*, I hit 2k followers today! Who ARE all you guys? Anyway, this fluff/ridiculousness is for you. ~1.6k words, rated G. Sterek, of course.

now also on AO3

The whole thing starts with Stiles really, really craving a meatball sub from the place across the street.

“God, someone shut him up,” Erica groans. They’re all kind of at their breaking point by now; they’ve been camped out in this meeting room all day, brainstorming. “He’s been talking about the same goddamn sandwich for seven and a half minutes now, and it’s making me hungry.”

“If only our ad campaign were about sandwiches, Stilinski would have it in the bag and we could all go home,” Isaac sighs.

From across the table, Derek rises abruptly to his feet and storms out. (Or maybe it’s just that Stiles always interprets everything Derek does as stormy. With those eyebrows, it’s hard not to.)

Stiles assumes he’s just gotten so fed up with them all that it’s either storm out or kill someone, and he’s just grateful Derek chose Door Number 1. It’s a good day not to get killed by Derek Hale.

Only, fifteen minutes later he comes back in. With a paper bag from the deli.

As soon as he gets within grabbing distance, Stiles practically collapses across the table in his haste to reach for it. “Oh my god, is that what I think it is?”

Derek holds it up over his head. “Who says this is for you? Maybe all your talk inspired me to go get a meatball sub of my own.”

“Oh, please. Like anyone with your abs eats meatball subs.” Stiles leaps to his feet on his swivel chair—because screw safety, Derek will catch him if he starts to topple over—and snatches the bag out of Derek’s grip. Derek doesn’t fight him for it very hard.

“Why don’t I get a meatball sub?” Erica whines, thumping her head down on her notebook. “Doesn’t anyone love me?”

Derek shrugs and takes his seat again. “You didn’t ask.”

“You just like Stilinski better,” she grumbles, and Derek just shrugs again.

Meanwhile, Stiles rips into the bag and takes a huge bite out of the gloriousness that is this sandwich. He can’t help throwing in a few theatrical moans just to taunt Erica, and she suitably rewards him with a glare of death across the table.

“Mmm,” Stiles says. “Derek, I love you so much, dude. Marry me.”

Instead of the grumpy eyebrows he expects, Derek meets his eye, leans back smugly in his chair, and says, “Okay.”

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→ nudes, not flowers | 02

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

☆ pairing → Hoseok x Reader x Jungkook

genre → smut, fuckboi!au

warnings → … voyeurism + exhibitionism, dom!junghope, power play?, dirty talk!!!, jealousy, demeaning names during sex, the threesome, & probably other warnings byE 

word count   → 10.4k 

You’re not supposed to fall for Jung Hoseok and his repertoire of awful pick-up lines—but you do. The problem is: he’s afraid of commitment, and bolts at the idea of settling down. After that, you decide to stay far away from fuckboys, but his friend decides to test your new found resolutions.

or : Jungkook wants to see how far he can push Hoseok until he snaps

  ↣  01 | 02 (final)

a/n; okay…so… this is just porn, but if you squint, there’s kind of a plot. you should probably start with pt 1 if you haven’t already!! 
+ shout out to the mutuals who encouraged the filth fest in this part esp @gxtsmxt @itsrainingmin !! we can have a prayer circle later to cleanse our souls
+ also tomorrow is my one month anniversary on tumblr :’)) thank you so much for all the love i’ve received this past month  ♡

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Vodka

This is sorta lame and cheesy, but it’s basically just a fluffy Imagine about Tom being a cute boyfriend and taking care of his drunk girlfriend💗
Author’s Note: This is a oneshot inspired by sorta me? My mom had a party and made a ton of mixed drinks, and because I’m a dumb baby that never drinks, I forgot that vodka literally punches you in a face when you drink too much of it? Anyways, I got drunk and ended up crying to one of my cousins for about 40 minutes about all the reasons why I love Tom? Apparently, I’m even more cheesy and sentimental drunk than I am sober, who knew lol?

Vodka
She giggled to herself, ankles knocking into each other as she braced herself on the door of her apartment. She was absolutely, completely, and undeniably smashed. Truly, she couldn’t even remember how she’d gotten this way, but then again, she could barely recall her uber ride home.
Her hands kept shaking and she couldn’t find the correct key to fit itself into the doorknob. At this rate, she’d be out all night.
Tom paused the film he was watching and glanced back towards the front door. He was pretty sure that he could hear someone out there, but it was probably just their neighbor’s being noisy. Allowing the film to regain his full attention, he did his best to ignore the strange sounds outside, until he heard something that replicated her giggle.
His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. She was supposed to be at a sleepover with her best friends, not coming home at one in the morning? Tom got up and made his way over to the window by the door. Peeking out, he saw that the giggle outside indeed belonged to her, and she appeared to be struggling hugely with the task of opening the door.
Quickly crossing to help her inside, Tom yanked open the door and barely had time to catch her as she crashed in on top of him.
“Tom!” She yelped excitedly, making no effort to move off of him, instead cuddling further into him, while he laid sprawled across the floor with her lying on his chest. “Do you wanna hear a joke? It’s so dirty and I know how you love dirty things!” She explained innocently, her eyelashes tickling his neck.
Tom chuckled, “Darling, come on up here. We’ve gotta close the door.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you!” She leaned over him, “What did Cinderella do when she got to the ball?”
“You’re absolutely wrecked.” Tom laughed, taking in her mussed up appearance. She still looked good, how could she not? Her skirt was just shorter, her breasts were more exposed than she’d be comfortable with sober, and her eyemakeup was slightly smudged. Her hair tumbled down her back in messy waves and she teetered on her high heels.
If she had come home sober, Tom would’ve dragged her off to bed with him, but alas, she was drunk and needed to be taken care of.
“She gagged!” His girlfriend giggled, finishing up the butt of her joke. “Do you get it?”
Tom burst out laughing and cradled the back of her head as he rolled her onto her side so that he could get up to lock the door. “Yes, baby, I do. Where’d you hear that one?”
She didn’t even seem to have registered what he asked her because, in response, she said, “I don’t think I’d be Cinderella if I was a disney princess. She gags, but not me. I don’t gag, unless you make me.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re going to be so embarrassed in the morning.” Tom said, slipping his hands beneath her arms to pick her up. Helping her down the hallway to their bedroom, he asked, “Darling, how come you’re not with your friends right now?”
She blinked her eyes slowly and licked her lips. “We were all talking, and drinking. So, so, so much drinking. Did you know that vodka is strong? Like, it’s so strong, because, I’m not sure if you can tell, but,” She leaned closer to his chest and pressed herself up onto her tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “I’m kinda drunk right now.”
Turning his head towards her, he decided to play along, “Are you serious? I’d had no clue.”
“Well, yes! Anywho,” She dragged out the last letter of anywho before she tripped over herself again.
Tom caught her and slipped a firmer hand around her waist. “Anywho?” He pressed.
“We were all talking about our boyfriends, and how much we love them, because, I love you so much. And then, we started talking about the stuff we do with our boyfriends.” She paused in the hallway to poke Tom’s chest, “That’s my favorite shirt on you.”
“Darling, I’m not wearing a shirt?” Tom said, cocking his head to the side.
“I know,” She smiled, “That’s why it’s my favorite.” She gestured to Tom’s exposed midriff, “This is all great. Like, you look so good. The best.”
Tom dissolved into laughter and shook his head, “My silly, drunk girl. What are we going to do with you?”
“Well, you see, what I’d like you to do with me is make-out. That’s really why I came home. We started talking about some things,” She cupped her hand around Tom’s ear and whispered, “Sexy time things. And we all agreed that I should come home to you so that we could do the sexy time things. Because, I wanna do them, with you.”
Finally crossing the threshold of their bedroom, Tom placed her gently onto the bed and tried to ignore her last statement. Yes, she was his girlfriend. Yes, she’d just told him that she wanted him, and yes, he obviously wanted her too. But, she was drunk, much too drunk to consent to sex with him.
Tonight, Tom would be a good boyfriend and take care of her, but, in the morning, Tom would be a good boyfriend and he’d give her at least 2 orgasms with 2 advil pills to chase away her headache before breakfast.
“Sweet girl, we can’t right now. You’ve been drinking too much, you’re absolutely wasted.” Tom tried to reason with her.
“No, no I’m not. If I was drunk, could I do this?” She took a deep breath, “‘May I feel said he/ (I’ll squeal said she/ just once said he) It’s fun said she/ (May I touch said he/ How much said she/ A lot said he) Why not said she.”
Tom cut her off, “Sweetheart, nothing you say matters right now, you’re too drunk. Now just let me help you out of that dress.” Shaking his head, Tom laughed as he walked over to her with an oversized sweatshirt of his in his hand. Only she would be able to quote E.E. Cummings completely inebriated.
Kneeling in front of her, Tom lifted one of her feet onto his lap to unbuckled her high heeled shoe. Undoing the clasp and carefully removing the heel, he pressed a tender kiss to the top of her foot.
“You know, I like it a lot better when you’re on your knees for a different reason.” She pouted, sitting up to watch him.
Tom chuckled again as he began to remove her other shoe, “Trust me darling, so do I. Roll over-” He didn’t even get to finish his sentence when she interjected.
“Are you gonna spank me?” She asked, rolling over. Her tiny dress had ridden up even more and Tom had to bite down on his lower lip and clasp his hands together to prevent himself from doing just that.
“You’re making this really difficult.” Tom muttered.
“Then do something about it. I thought bad girls got spankings?” She teased him, eyeing the hardness growing within his pajama bottoms.
“Stop it, I’m trying to take care of you and you’re making it really hard.” Tom groaned.
“I can tell,” She giggled.
“For fucks sake,” Tom rolled his eyes, “I’m going to help you out of the dress, and that’s all the touching I’m going to do tonight. Then, I’m going to take off your makeup, and you’re going to go to sleep.”
“Tom,” She whined, wriggling around on the bed, “I don’t wanna. I want you to do me.”
Tom laughed, “You’re going to die in the morning, oh my gosh. You’re such a child.”
“Ugh!” She whined and flattened out onto the mattress.
Sitting down behind her on the bed, Tom rolled her over and unzipped the back of her dress. He did his best to not look, but the zipper kept getting caught in her hair, and he couldn’t ignore the soft skin of her back. He saw that she’d chosen to wear the pretty, light pink, lace bra that she’d been wearing the first time they’d had sex. Groaning over the memories, he helped her rid her body of the confining fabric of her dress and had slid his sweatshirt over her body.
She turned to lay on her back, “Will you at least kiss me?”
“Yes,” Tom placed a soft kiss on her mouth, “Do you wanna get up to go to the bathroom to take off your makeup, or do you want me to do it for you here?”
“Hmmm, here.” She sat up and stuck her hands inside of the sweatshirt, only to toss her bra off seconds later.
Tom’s eye lingered on her chest as he got up to retrieve her makeup wipes.
“I love youuuuu.” She said, hugging herself to his chest after Tom had successfully cleansed her face of all traces of makeup. “You’re my favorite, even though you refuse to fuck me.”
Tom tucked the duvet under her chin and crawled in behind her. He kissed her temple and curled an arm around her, “I love you too darling.”
He prayed to the high heavens above that she wouldn’t feel his excitement poking her in the back while she drifted off and into dreamland.

Safe Places.

Based on an ask I received!
I apologize, the story had to be edited so I rewrote the whole thing here!

Original idea by: @lightderin

Lance looked around at the accusing glares of his teammates, all different intensities. He smiled nervously, “Oops.”

They had been mapping out locations in the observatory of safe planets to land, or easy places to wormhole, in the case of an attack that needed quick escape.

The team had been at it for hours, and had over 120 spots pinpointed over multiple galaxies.

Lance, who had found the entire ordeal quite boring, had strolled away to check out the little holograms floating around.

He couldn’t help that it was hard for him to pay attention, ADHD did that to a person. Focusing just wasn’t his gig.

The blue paladin had started across the other side of the room, hands in his pockets and he just looked.

Until he thought he found Earth.

He should know what it looked like, he stared at its little hologram nearly every night.

Lance missed home.
He missed the people back there.

Without much thought, Lance reached forward to zoom in, a happy little smile on his lips.

Home.

Look at it, just right there—

“Aw, what the heck?!” A chorus of shouts came from behind and Lance jumped.

He turned to see the team staring at him, looking annoyed and tired. “Hm?”

Pidge motioned frantically to the hologram around them, “Lance, we lost our spot! We lost our points!”

Lance blinked, “…how?”

Keith groaned, “Idiot, because you were screwing around with the screen!”

Lance frowned, looking back at Earth, and saw how zoomed in it was and how the constellations and stars around him had changed too.

Oh, he didn’t think that one through.
Lance looked back at them and smiled nervously, “Oops?”

He was answered with grumbles, and a yawn from Hunk. They were tired and now were too frustrated to get significantly angry.

“Let’s go to bed, we can start again in the morning.” Shiro said, rubbing his forehead. “You too Lance.”

Lance rubbed his neck, looking at the ground as the team and the Altean duo walked past him.

He grunted when Keith bumped into him, “Watch where you’re going, Lance.” The red paladin spat.

Lance frowned.
Keith was the one who bumped into him!

“Oh yeah, mull—”
He was alone in the observatory.

He took a shaky breath, watching the doors close behind his friends, and sulked.

Great.
He had annoyed them all, again.

Why could he just keep his hands to himself? Look don’t touch, his mama had always said.

Lance sighed, arms coming up to pull up his hood and put it over his head. A safe place, where he could only see forward, and no one could see him.

Hoods were nice.
When you can only look back at your mistakes, they allow you to dream ahead and block out any side distractions.

It was a new world, your own world, and provided the blue paladin with a sense of security.

Safe.

He sat down, back in front of Earth, letting it float nearer to him and he watched it carefully.

The blue light illuminating the white space his head was tucked into, and it was just those two.

Lance and Earth.
She was such a pretty lady.

His sadness escaped through a sigh, and he allowed himself to be calm.

Tonight, he would fix it.
Lance would stay up all night and go through the map an replot every point.

And as morning came, the hood would come off, and Lance would feel a little better.

Everything would be okay.

It had to be, otherwise what would have been the point of staying up all night to do all of this for his team?

He skipped breakfast, as that time came the following morning. Not that he was incredibly hungry anyway.

“203…204, wait, no…” Lance put down another point, rubbing his eyes and swaying in his spot.

Lance had marked down every point they had previously plotted, and finding he hadn’t been able to sleep, continued on.

The blue paladin barely noticed as a door opened behind him, and the team entered.

“Wh— Lance? We thought you were still sleeping, you weren’t at breakfast.” Princess Allura said with a hint of surprise in her tone.

Lance chuckled, “Nah, thought I would finish up some of our plotting.”

Team Voltron and the Alteans were staring in awe at the color coordinated dots that glowed amongst the light blue holographic model.

“What is this?” Shiro asked.

Lance looked over, rubbing an eye.
“I felt horrible last night, messing up the work you guys did. So I stayed up and fixed it. I even took the time to color coordinate them by condition, size, and whether or not they are open at certain times.”

Each had their jaw dropped, staring at their blue paladin. He had done all of that?

“Did you sleep at all?” Hunk spoke up, brows furrowed as he stared at his friend.

The poor kid looked drained; skin paled, bags under his eyes, and red in the corners.

He was exhausted.

It took them a moment to process this, watching as Lance sat down and smiled at them. “I even found more. In at over two hundred charted locations giving the correct conditions.”

Keith said it. “Idiot.”

Lance blinked, visibly flinching at the sudden words, not what he had expected at all.

“What…?”

Pidge looked annoyed, although it was probably at the fact Lance had done something tech related better than her for once.

“You stayed up ALL NIGHT? On a map that wasn’t even that important?” She said, gaping.

Lance paused, “Not that…Wh… But you guys got so upset when I messed it up, an worked on it all day!”

Keith rolled his eyes, “Yeah, it needed done, but it wasn’t life or death. Look at you!”

Shiro, in a nicer tone, agreed. “He’s right, Lance. You didn’t have to do this, and it’s not healthy putting yourself through such stress.”

Hunk bit his lip, “I mean, you’re really tired right? What if, What o Zarkon attacked and you just fell asleep durin battle?”

“He would KILL you.” Allura confirmed. Coran nodded.

“You’ve got to take care of yourself.”

Lance looked around at his friends, not believing what he was hearing in the slightest.

How could they accuse him like this?
How could they be so rude?

Lance had done this for them, staying up all night to fix his mistake. He had wants to make them happy!

The blue paladin wanted to be apart of the team and help out for once, even if it was in a simple manner.

He hadn’t wanted to be reprimanded for a deed he believed was good.

Frustrated tears appeared, and Lance crossed his arms. “Fine, whatever, I’ll go to bed. Do what you want with that.”

He stood up, swayed, and nearly toppled over with exhaustion. Lance couldn’t stand the worried looks he was getting.

The hood came back up.
Things were supposed to have been okay.

Lance marched to his room, rubbing his nose with an aggravated sniff and glaring the tears away.

It wasn’t okay.
Why couldn’t it ever be okay?

They’re so cute when they’re asleep

Request:Can you do Drabble 6 & 14 combined like maybe in the avengers tower 😉😉 

Okay I know I’m requesting imagines like crazy, but could I request 11, 12, and 14 with Peter Parker? Something where the Avengers tease the reader and Peter (but especially the reader) because they have crushes on each other? Thank you so, so much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

A/N: Okay so this is me attempting to use the prompts “I need a place to stay”, “they’re so cute when they’re alseep,” , “ this is by far the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in,” , “ the way you flirt is shameful,” , “ it’s just rain you aren’t gonna melt,”………. lets see how this goes

TAGS: @agentmalfoy24601 @teddysiupin @palebun-16 @whovian1077  @philipshaaayyyy  @smazztastic  @undoroos @justsomeweirdfan  @annymcervantes @julietheree

“Mr Stark, I-I was wondering if you could help me with something,”

“Is it your Spanish homework? ‘cause you’d have better luck talking to a wall than asking me for help,”

“No no, it’s not that, I asked this girl out on a date and-”

Tony dropped everything, and finally looked at Peter fully attentive, and interrupted his spiel, “Please tell me it was y/n you asked,” he appealed. Peter scrunched his eyebrows, confused at how Mr. Stark easily guessed who. He stuttered over his words, unable to reply, “Friday, tell Nat that she owes me $10″

Peter’s confusion morphed into shock, “Were you guys betting on us?” he asked in disbelief, as the computer system replied to his request,

“I was, Natasha not so much,” Tony answered nonchalantly, “she figured you’d never work up the courage. As per-usual, I was right,”

Peter was at a loss for words. Although, he did feel a little sense of reassurance that Mr. Stark had some faith in him, 

“Anyways, continue,” Tony pushed,

“Okay, so, I’m taking her out tonight, and I’m really nervous-”

“Predictable,”

“and I just don’t want to mess this up, so I was hoping you’d be willing to help me out by kind of being my, wing-man,”

“your wing-man?”

“Yeah,”

There was a pause between the two, as Tony blinked at the young boy,

“That was a little on the vague side, so right now my answer is no, I’m not chaperoning two school kids’ date,” He said turning away from Peter, and returning to his work,

“Where is it you’re taking her?” Peter heard a feminine voice ask behind him. He jumped slightly and looked to find Natasha strutting her way towards the two. He hesitated before answering her, “I don’t know, I was thinking, dinner then a movie?” he said, more as a question than a statement.

“Boring!” Tony exclaimed, not bothering to face them. 

Peter sighed and slouched, “Well y/n’s never been on a date before. If you do it right, then it’d be the perfect night,” Nat pointed out,

“Exactly, so I was hoping that, if I wore an earpiece, then Mr. Stark could kind of coach me through it,” Peter suggested warily.

Nat shook her head, “You want Tony Stark as you’re wing-man?” she asked pointing to the man. Peter nodded his head, “This is, by far, the stupidest plan you’ve ever had,” she deadpanned.

Tony swirled around in his chair, with a mischievous smirk, “And with me, being an intellectual, of course I’m in,”


You couldn’t tell what you were feeling. Some of it was happiness that Peter Parker has finally asked you out, which was followed by nervousness because of the fact that you’d be going on a date with him. A part of you felt sick, and horrible because the possibility of this date ending terribly and therefore ruining a perfectly good friendship was looming above you.

You and Peter had been friends for years, having gone to the same school together and sharing some of the same assignments that Tony gives you. You were always called in on the less extreme tasks,due to having no superpowers but mad combat skills. 

You huffed yet again as you stood in front of your mirror, and smoothed down your outfit. Screw it, you thought, and waited out in your living room for Peter.

Peter took deep breathes as he approached your door. A sweat began to break out on his forehead, “Have you reached the door yet?” Tony asked in his ear. Peter sighed, this was the fourth time he’s asked, “Yes,” Peter snapped in a hushed tone,

“About time. Now knock,”

“I figured that much out for myself actually,”

“Don’t get snippy with me, you asked for my help,”

“I’m beginning to regret it,” Peter groaned, before knocking on your door.

Your head shot to the direction of the door, before getting up and slowly opening it. 

Peter stood with a wide smile, cherry red cheeks and a bunched bouquet of pink roses. Your cheeks flushed to match his, as you gasped, “Peter,” you drew out. This made his smile beam a little more. You smiled along with him and giggled from his kind gesture, “Come in,” you welcomed him, opening your door wider.

You turned away, and buried your nose in the flower pedals.

“Did she like the flowers?” Tony asked Peter,

“I-I think,” Peter quickly whispered under his breath, making sure you wouldn’t notice. 

You place the bouquet in a vase and made your way back to Peter, “Ready to go?” he smiled at you. 

“Tell her she looks nice,” Peter’s wing-man pestered,

“You-” he began, but was cut of,

“Unless she doesn’t, then scratch that. Wait maybe you should tell her anyway,”

Looking at Peter confusingly, you cocked an eyebrow. He gave you a reassuring smile, and placed a hand on your lower back, “You look good tonight,” he complimented, “you always look good,” he emphasized more for Tony to take a hint,

“smooth, spidey,” you commented, letting him lead you out of your place,

“That compliment was more for me. I’m taking it.”


It felt unusual, to be on a date with Peter Parker. A date that didn’t involve studying with an old friend, but more so, a night with a different unusual feeling between you two with formal clothes and flattery.

Your heart pounded a little harder and breath hitched when Peter showed off his goofy smile. You weren’t sure if you had ever felt that way before, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re feeling it now with Peter. 

You had finished eating and were now relaxing at the table. 

“Have I already told you how amazing you look tonight?” Peter asked you, eyes glazed over in a daze,

“This is the third time probably,” you answered with a sweet smile and rosey cheeks, 

The way you flirt is shameful. She’s already sick of it,” Peter heard Tony.

He pursed his lips, “Who taught you? You’re just repeating the same things. Was it May?” 

“Oh wow look at it pour outside,” Peter spoke distracting himself from Tony,

“Nice try, I’m still here,”

“Do you want to wait in here till it stops?” Peter offered you,

“It’s just rain, you aren’t going to melt,” 

“Tony!” 

Swinging your head around from the window to Peter, you repeated, “Tony?”

Peter’s mouth bobbed, his eyes grew to saucers. You gave him a side glance, “Is he here?” you pondered suspiciously.

“um-uh-n-no”

“Think of something quick, underoos,”

“I just- uh- just remembered that Tony, offered for us to watch a movie at the tower…..tonight,” Peter squeaked 

“No I didn’t,”

“He did?”

“Y-yeah, he figured that that would be better than us spending money at the theater, or just me spending money, and you fighting me to pay your way in,” Peter explained uncomfortably, unsure if what he said came out right.

“That’s a little uncharacteristic of him,” you pointed out, 

He searched and searched his brain to quickly produce a reasonable explanation for “Tony’s proposal”. An unusually sly smirk skipped across Peter’s lips as he thought back to how outraged he felt when discovering that the two Avengers betting on and against him and his crush,

 “Yeah well, he owes us one,”

“Be ready for ridicule,”


                                       TO BE CONTINUED

love letters ❥ peter parker

summary : peter, hopeless romantic that he is, has a cache of love letters, all addressed to you, hidden under his bed and expertly crafted. he never anticipated them being read, or the feelings he has for you being returned.

word count : 3.1k (holy fucking hell i’m sorry)

   Peter couldn’t help it, the way that he was. He was a romantic at a heart, though the awkwardness of him had a tendency to prevail rather than the confident, smooth talking, small part of him that had a desperate desire to reveal itself. Spider-man was as suave as a fifteen year old boy could be; Peter Parker was awkward, inept at participating in normal, human conversation and often incapable of forming coherent sentences more often than not. He wasn’t the best at talking to people besides Ned and Aunt May and- on occasion- Tony Stark. Especially not you. If there was one person that he turned into an absolute bumbling, ridiculous mess around, it was you. He loathed himself for it, sure that you thought that he was weird, annoying, the same way that anyone who didn’t know him assumed he was. 

   Ned, however, continuously insisted that you found Peter to be a sweetheart, like anyone who got to know him well enough did, and that you liked him very much- perhaps more than a friend, though Peter had immediately scoffed at the notion. It was out of the question, downright ludicrous. But, of course, Ned had implanted the idea in Peter’s head, and now the boy’s ever creative mind refused to stop constructing various scenarios in which you were Peter’s girlfriend and he was as happy as he had ever been. 

    While he had been a perfectly charming boyfriend in each and every one of those little dream sequences of his, he was hopelessly lost for words whenever you approached him, unable to even ask what class you had next, let alone reveal the pure adoration he had been holding on to ever since you had been placed beside him in Bio in your freshman year. You had always been the one to stick up for him and smile at him and treat him like a decent human being, and so of course he fell for you, and now he could barely look you in the eye without his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. So, he bottled his feelings and let them out in a way he had never known could help him.

    He wrote. 

    He wrote to you every single day and poured his heart out in every single letter and expressed every thought he knew, in his heart, he would never be able to say out loud. Writing what he felt was so much simpler than saying the words out loud. That was what he assumed, anyhow. He took his pen and placed it down on the paper, starting it the same way he always did. 

   Dear Y/N… As always, the words spilled over from his mind to the paper as if he wasn’t thinking, just writing and writing and writing until he had filled two pages without lifting his curly head from the paper once. When he finally finished, a yawn stretching across his mouth, he noticed Aunt May standing outside his door. He turned his chair around, raising his eyebrows at her. 

   “Writing to that pretty girl again?” She asked, hand on her hip but wearing a knowing, soft grin. Peter, not bothering to feign shock, nodded solemnly and placed his pen down the paper. “You should think about maybe, oh I don’t know, actually giving her one of the letters you’ve written?” 

    Adamantly, Peter shook his head. “May, I could never. You don’t get it.” He swiveled around in the chair, spinning it until he was dizzy. “These letters are embarrassing. They’re practically my whole heart and soul on a piece of paper. She’d scream and run away if she read how I felt about her.” He sighed, placing his elbow on the edge of the desk and resting his cheek in his hand. He stared up at his aunt, still craving her sage advice. May stared back at him thoughtfully. 

   “Well, in my personal experience,” she came over and gave Peter’s shoulder a squeeze, eyeing the letter that was signed with Peter’s name, “girls are suckers for love letters. And you Parker men write the best ones out there. Trust me.” 

   Peter bit his lip. “Yeah, sure, I’m not an awful writer. But, I still can’t give them to her. I just can’t.” Before she could say anything else, he was folding it up and placing it on top of the shelf on his desk next to his books for English. “Uncle Ben was different. He was charming. You know that.” 

    May smiled wistfully. “I do.” 

    “And that’s one thing that I didn’t get from him,” Peter finished, shrugging his shoulders as he stood up from his swivel chair. “It’s fine.” He waved it off. “I’m happy suffering in silence. I’m gonna go to bed. Big English project starts tomorrow. Love you,” he kissed May on the cheek as she left his bedroom, switching the light off in her departure. He stared at the wall once he was situated in bed, mulling the conversation over in his head. Maybe May’s right. Maybe telling Y/N wouldn’t be as bad as I’m thinking. Maybe I’m overreacting. Actually, never mind. She probably hates me. Ugh. Life sucks. 


    That morning, when he arrived in his English class, you were sitting in the seat that had been previously occupied by Ned pretty much every class since the beginning of the school year. Sucking in a breath, Peter took his first step into the classroom. He knew he was a little late to today’s lesson, but he hadn’t realized he was a full fifteen minutes behind schedule. Ned was in the back with Michelle, giving Peter an encouraging thumbs up when he noticed his best friend finally arrive on the scene. Peter gave him the finger. 

   “Mr. Parker, lovely for you to join us!” Ms. Matthews declared when he decided to shove himself through the door, his heart jackhammering away in his chest and making its way up to his throat. He kind of wanted to throw up. 

   “Um, yeah, well, you know, sleep and whatnot- overslept, haha,” he coughed out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. The teacher nodded with faux sympathy, though he could tell she didn’t care that much for his explanation. “I’ll just, um, sit. Down.” 

    “Next to Y/N, please,” She instructed, waving her hand in your direction. “Since you were late and unable to choose your own partner, surprising since usually Ned is so eager to work with you, Y/N offered to be your partner.” The teacher gave you a fond smile, as every teacher did. “She can explain the details of the assignment.” 

    Peter gave her a stiff nod before sliding into his chair, and you noticed how rigid he was as he turned toward you with a slight frown. He seemed extremely upset to be working with you, but you wouldn’t let that get in the way. You liked Peter. Really, truly liked him. He was a sweetie whenever he actually talked to and different than the rest of the guys at Midtown. He was genuine.  

    Giving him your full attention, you beamed at him. “Hey, Peter,” you said cheerfully. He gave you a small smile in return, wringing his hands under the desk. He couldn’t stop fidgeting. Your own smile dropped, which he noticed immediately and felt awful about. “Sorry you didn’t get paired up with Ned,” you continued, taking your books out of your shoulder bag. “I know you would’ve preferred it that way-” 

    “No!” He interrupted quickly, practically slamming his hands down on the desk so hard you jumped in your seat, eyes wide. “Sorry, sorry, I just, um,” he laughed a little, his cheeks burning, “I’m, um, happy to have you as a partner. Really, I am,” he added as an afterthought, just to make sure you knew. 

   Your shoulders relaxed as you looked at him. “You’re not just saying that, right? You seem awfully stiff,” you teased, poking his uncomfortably positioned arm as you quirked a brow. 

    “Do I?” He was practically sweating. 

     “I was just joking, Pete. It’s cute, anyway.” Peter’s eyes, a shade of brown that you had come to think of as warm as honey, went wide and he gaped at you, but you pretended not to notice. “So, for the assignment we have to write a short story based on one of the assigned reading books this year.” 

   She called me cute

   “Shit… I think I forgot all of mine,” you were mumbling, your head practically stuck in your bag. “Did your bring yours, Peter?” 

   Oh my god, she thinks I’m cute. She thinks I’m cute. I’m going to faint

   You snapped your fingers in front of his cherry red face, trying not to appear as amused as you felt. He blinked owlishly, an apologetic half smile, half grimace on his face. He was cute most of the time, but especially when he smiled, even if it was only a forced, awkward one. “Do you have your books, Peter?” You repeated kindly. 

    “Um, sorry, I’ll check,” he answered, embarrassed about his utterly obvious staring that had just occurred. He rummaged around in his backpack before realizing he had forgotten them, as well. He popped back up, curls in disarray as his head brushed against the fabric of his bag. “I forgot them, sorry,” he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. It was kind of adorable.

   “You need to stop apologizing for everything, Pete,” you laughed. “It’s fine. We can get started after school. My place or yours?” You were already packing your things, and before he could think about what he was about to do, he said, “Mine.”   

    “Cool,” you grinned again, a grin that made him want to smile for the rest of his life. “Which one of is doing the writing? Or do you want to split it?” 

    “You’re a, um, fantastic writer,” he told you, having read your submissions to the school newspaper more times than he could count. “If you wanna take over, you can. I can edit and stuff.” 

    “Aw, I’m not that good,” you shook your head abashedly, looking down at your lap. “But thank you, Peter. I’m sure you’re great, too, though. Are you sure you don’t wanna write some of it?”

    “I’m not much of a writer.”


    So, you were in Peter Parker’s room. He was having his third heart attack of the day, and was incredibly grateful that he had managed to keep his wits about him for majority of the day. He had only tripped over his words five times, tripped literally twice, and dropped his Metro card once, but it was fine. You helped him back each time he fell with your usual grace, barely acknowledging his multiple social faux pas and only laughing once because he fell over a small dog- which even he would admit was pretty funny. 

   Still, his palms were sweaty around you and he didn’t know how he was going to survive working so close to you for the next week while the English assignment was occurring. He lead you into his apartment and you noticed that his hands were shaking slightly as he twisted the keys in the lock. You walked into the apartment, the first thing crossing your mind was how cozy and homelike it was. You liked it very much. 

   “It’s really cute in here,” you said, smiling around the room as Peter busied himself with a glass of water. He downed it quickly. “Where’s your aunt?” 

   “Work,” he replied, catching his breath after the gulping down of his water. “Here, let’s go to my room.” He placed his glass of water on the counter and motioned for you to follow him, opening the door to his room and wincing at the mess in there. “It’s a mess, sorry about that.”  

   You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Didn’t I say stop apologizing?” You entered his room as if you had been there many times before, taking your shoes off and setting them by the door. You threw your bag on his bed and took a seat in his swivel chair, and he liked how natural it seemed for you to be in his room. He liked how comfortable you were, sitting there. Something about it made him happy. 

   “Yeah, my bad,” he shrugged. You tilted your head, pointing your finger at him while he raised his hands defensively. “It wasn’t technically an apology!” He took a step out of the room. He was finally being normal around you, he realized delightedly. He would still need more water, though. He could feel his mouth getting dry. “I’m gonna get more water. Want anything?” You shook your head, spinning around in the chair as he left. 

   Your eyes scanned over his desk, taking in every inch of Peter Parker’s life. He had bad books stacked everywhere, his desk was a mess, there were clothes thrown about the room. Star Wars posters, Avengers posters, notes scattered across the desk. You admired the artful messiness of it all. You leaned up to where his English books were, spotting the one you were most interested in and yanking it off the shelf. As you did, a folded piece of paper fluttered down off the shelf, just when Peter was walking back into the room. 

   “I thought you said you weren’t a writer, Pete,” you raised your eyebrows at him, holding the letter in your hand and waving it at him. 

   He almost threw up right there. “Um, I’m not, please give that back,” he reached for it, but you jumped out of the chair, raising the letter high in the air. “Y/N!” He whined, grabbing for it again. “C’mon, please,” he pleaded desperately, pouting at you with such intensity it almost made you want to give it to him. 

    “Can’t I just read a sentence, Peter?” You pushed out your bottom lip, batting your eyelashes at him. 

     He almost gave in. “No, Y/N. Seriously, give it back.” He sounded scared now, upset as well. You pursed your lips, handing it back to him. He was so anxious about you reading it that it dropped on the floor, opening far enough so that you could see your name scrawled across the top in Peter’s defining chicken scratch handwriting. 

    “That says my name, so now I have to read it.” You stood directly in front of Peter, hands pressed together in a pleading motion, the expression on your face so genuinely interested that he had to give it to you. He picked it back up with a lump in his throat and handed it over, scared as ever. But this was what May had advised. Maybe she’d be right. 

    “Dear Y/N,” you read aloud in a loud, terrible accent, glancing back up at Peter as you read the line after that. He was staring down at the floor, preparing himself for what you were going to say when you read the letter, read his heart. You sat in his chair, realizing it’d be better if you didn’t read it so publicly. He sat down on his bed, waiting. 

   Dear Y/N. This is maybe the tenth letter I’ve written to you, and each time I say the same thing, so if one day you are reading this in proper succession, I’m sorry for being so utterly repetitive. You’ll probably never read this, though. And that’s why it’s so easy for me to write. I think you’re the only person to ever truly be interested in me when I’m talking about science. Not even Ned has an attention span that long. But you do. And you don’t know how much I want to thank you for that. You make it really difficult to not like you, to not be in love with you. I think that’s what it is… love. And if I’m not in love with you yet, then I’m certainly falling for you. Who wouldn’t? You’re a wonderful person without trying, you’re a beautiful hurricane, a sunset on the horizon of my bleakest hours, and you make me feel as if I’ve been standing in the sunshine for my entire life. 

   You put the letter down, smoothing it over your lap. You didn’t need to read the rest. That was enough. Peter gazed at you now, the way you’ve yearned to be looked at before, and you shamed yourself for being so blind these past two years. He wasn’t simply just staring. He was looking. Admiring. You slid next to Peter, placing the letter behind you. He moved his hand, curling his fingers around yours tentative as ever. Your free hand grazed up the side of his face, toying with the hair on the back of his neck before resting on his cheek. He shut his eyes. When he opened them again, you were so close that he was able to count each individual eyelash that you had, every single fleck of pure beauty in your deep eyes. 

   “I like you very much, Peter Parker,” you murmured. He felt his heart soar, and then, he felt himself kiss you. It was an out of body experience. He was there, he was the one kissing you, the one who had initiated it, but it felt like he wasn’t. He was up in the clouds, too far lost in the way it felt to run his hands through your hair as he had always dreamed of to notice Aunt May sneaking past the door, overjoyed to see Peter finally with the girl he had been loving in silence for far too long. You pulled away from each other, eyes opening slowly and hesitantly and your lips practically still connected. 

   He wanted to tell her that he adored her, but Aunt May’s voice flowed from the kitchen too loud to overpower his thoughts. “You read her the letter, didn’t you? I told you it’d work! Worked for your Uncle Ben and I was right as I always am!”

   He jumped up from the bed, sticking his head out of the doorway and pressing his finger to his lips. “Maaaayyyy, you’re embarrassing me,” he whispered-yelled, practically whined. “You were right, okay? Thank you, let me go get a girlfriend now. The girlfriend.” She beamed at him, but no one’s smile could shine brighter than Peter’s. 

    He retreated back into the room, and you were clutching the letter in your hands. You looked up at him hopefully. “I was thinking that maybe you could read me the other nine letters. If you’re up for it.” 

    Peter couldn’t possibly say no, taking a page out of his Uncle Ben’s book the way he should have done in the first place as he found the hiding spot for the stack of letters he had been writing for the past few months, sliding them over to you and feeling confident for the first time in a long time.

Soulmates

Pairing: Harry and Y/N

Word Count: 1600

Prompt (AU) : Harry took his anger out in sex-and you weren’t supposed to do that. He would go to the bar and find others just as terrible and lonely as him, drink, and then sink his sorrows into anything with breast and a hole were to put it. Niall always rolled his eyes the next morning and say to Harry “you’re a proper dick, yeh know that right?”, to which Harry would lift his middle finger up and respond with, “if soulmates are real she would love me anyhow.”

“Harry when you meet her your life will change,” Anne says, handing him a cup of tea.

Harry rolls his eyes, “I don’t care to meet her. It’s all bullshit,” Harry grumbles.


Y/N was never much of a talker; she had maybe said eight sentences in her whole life time. She wasn’t sure where the fear really came from, the fear of saying the wrong thing, of being too loud, of not being heard, so she kept to herself. People didn’t seem to understand though, they couldn’t comprehend why she chose to not talk, so she was labeled as weird, freak, stupid etc. Then they labeled her as mute (and she was) but she hated that term, she really did, Y/N just hated being labeled. At first it hurt, it really did, but Y/N soon learned to ignore them, she could only really care about what her Soulmate would have to say, and deep down a part of her wished that they were like her, quiet.

Soulmates, Y/N had been waiting for hers for a long time. She could remember sitting in class in fifth grade, when the teacher explained the process. She explained how everyone was born with a mark, a mark that only their other half had and she made them find that mark. Y/N’s was on her wrist, it was small, and lighter than her regular skin color, she wasn’t sure what it was at first, it just looked like a stick. But the teacher explained how the mark gets more detailed as they get older and closer to finding their person, and Y/N had noticed how that mark slowly grew into a small flower, a petal or two still missing.

Her teacher explained how every person was made for the other, and that they would feel their soulmates emotions, pain, negative thoughts, happy thoughts. They were connected and no matter what the other would always feel what their person was feeling. Y/N had learned that her person always seemed to be grumpy.

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Wrong Taxi (Part 1)

Summary: You get into an already occupied taxi and what ensues can only be bad luck. (Done for Kait’s 5k AU Writing Challenge).

Word Count: 2,757

Warnings: Drinking. Throwing up. 

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble series, but it is definitely not lol. I hope you all enjoy this first part. It’s gonna be a fun ride :D

Originally posted by dolorioushaze


The heartache was more than you could have ever foreseen. You were blissfully unaware of how much value you had placed on your relationship with your now-ex boyfriend. It was a slap in the face when he broke up with you and you found yourself crying in a bathroom stall at work. Cursing at yourself, you wiped your eyes with the coarse toilet paper, hissing at the sting it caused on the sensitive skin. Kleenex did a much better job, but the box was currently sitting on your desk, which was in the middle of the vast office you worked at. And the last thing you wanted was wandering eyes and gossips flowing around the office with you in the center of it all.

Blowing your nose, you groaned and buried your face in your hands. Expletives ricocheted back and forth inside your brain, almost all of them directed at your former boyfriend, but some of them were for yourself. You had been foolish, utterly and completely foolish. Thinking that he was as in love with you as you were with him, you had even asked him to move in the previous week. He had just smiled at you and told you he’d think about it.

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What’s up, it’s Alexei!

When Ngozi posted this picture yesterday of young post-draft Tater “trying his darnedest to answer press questions in English,” I thought, “You know, I could make a play fic out of that.” Which is what led to the following 2700+ words about Tater and his ESL tutor.

Many, many thanks to @ktheunready for being my Russian authenticity consultant and beta!


Georgia Martin stood at the back of the media scrum and watched Alexei Mashkov stumble his way through his post-draft interview, saw the way his fingers kneaded the brim of the brand-new Falconers’ cap he’d been handed for the initial official photos, saw the way his eyes widened and stayed intently glued to whoever was asking him a question, like he was afraid he’d miss some key bit of meaning if he blinked.

She pulled out her phone and made a call.

***

«No, Mama, I promise, my room is very nice. The family is very nice. Everything is very…»

«Let me guess, nice? »

Alexei sighed. «Yes.»

«You know I don’t doubt you, right, Alyosha? I’m not worried you can’t do this. You will be fine. But I know this is your first time to live in another country, with none of the boys from your teams here. It can be… hard, sometimes. I know.»

«Yeah, Mama, I know. You told me.»

«Are you telling me you’ve heard the stories of my youth too many times?» she asked in mock outrage.

«No, no!» he laughed. «Of course not.»

«Good. I should think not.» He could picture her face exactly, and it made him smile. «I’m glad your host family seems nice, Alyosha. I’m sure you will have many friends in no time.»

He flopped back on the bed again and stared at the ceiling. «I hope so.»

«We’ll talk again soon. Love you, son.»

«Love you, too.»

He hung up and let his phone rest on his chest. He’d been to America before. He’d thought he’d known what it would be like, that it wouldn’t be so bad. Different, yes, but there would be so many interesting new things to see, and new teammates, and he certainly knew how to play hockey. What he had failed to take into account, apparently, was how exhausting it was to try to function in English all day. For a US hockey team, the Falconers’ roster was shockingly low on Russian players, so his host family was one of the French Canadian ones. To their credit, they did speak some Russian, but it was hardly enough to have a real conversation. Alexei felt like he’d been practically mute all day.

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Sunday Morning

Summary: A young man and a young woman run into one another on a Sunday morning at a coffee shop, both of them heartbroken, and rediscover what it means to love and be loved. Bucky x Reader 

 Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this one for a bit. It’s basically the feel-good romance no one ever expected me to write (me included) 

 Words: ~2900

Originally posted by writingandcoffeehouse

Bucky used to love Sunday mornings. They were meant for sleeping in, for curling against the soft, tender body that slept next to him.

They’d had five years of Sunday mornings, of her soft sighs in his ear as she stirred from her sleep, bright green eyes blinking sleepily up at him as he kissed her plush, pink lips. Five years of Sunday mornings, of making coffee in a pair of boxers; of her arms wrapping around him from behind, a soft cheek against his bare back. Five years of Sunday mornings, of sitting at the breakfast bar in their pajamas, her thumb wiping jelly off the corners of his mouth.

Five years of Sunday mornings, wasted.

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Oh Sehun//Fast Lane

Originally posted by lawlliets

Summary: You finally find out how your big cousin earns her money - she’s the flag girl for the illegal street races in your neighborhood, and now she’s dragging you along. And that’s where you meet the Hawaii-shirt wearing, orange-headed Oh Sehun, ace street racer and smartass.
Scenario: street racer!au 
Word Count: 6,337

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Bygones of the Sun | 02 (M)

Originally posted by hobismole

Genre: Angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

Pairing: Reader x Hoseok

Length: 5.0k

Summary: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

01 | 02 | 03

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aquiver | 04

aquiver (adj.) [uh-kwiv-er] in a state of trepidation or vibrant agitation; trembling; quivering

pairing: min yoongi x reader
genre/warnings: mentions of death, slight angst, mentions or mature themes, fluff
words: 10,495
summary: Yoongi can’t remember the last time he was able to successfully bring himself to the point of orgasm, then Namjoon gives him a business card advertising ‘Healing Hands’, and that’s where he meets you; pretty and innocent looking, who gets paid to provide hand jobs for a living…
note. inspired by the novella ‘The Grownup’ by Gillian Flynn, literally just the main character’s past occupation haha

» playlist | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |

a/n: This was originally just the first half of chapter 4 but it was so long, I had to cut it in half. You were saved from the angst for now and are left with a fluffy mess haha

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lordmushroomkat  asked:

Writing request. Klance. Mutual pining. Supportive mechanical telepathic cat-parents.

man i feel like I could easily write 15 000 words about this haha. Trying to make this idea small is hard, but let’s give it a go. 

“So what do we do? We’re a paladin down now.” Pidge states. It’s a topic they’ve been dancing around. Shiro is gone, and yes of course they will find him again, but until then they can’t just… not form Voltron. 

“Keith takes black. Yeah ok, so that’s resolved.” Pidge continues.

“Are we honestly…” Lance starts to interrupt.

“But there’s STILL five lions.” Pidge shoots Lance a look. She knows he wants to argue the leader Keith point, but that’s another discussion. 

“We need another paladin.” She concludes. The group all stare at each other, not sure of what to suggest. The air is stale. 

“I….” Allura starts. Coran grabs her arm protectively. She turns to him with an understanding smile, pats his hand, and steps out of his grip.

“I will fill in.” Her commanding voice rings in the Lion’s hangar. Hunk nervously wrings his hands. Keith looks skeptical. 

“Princess, we need you to…”

“Who else do we have?!” Allura implores. “No one knows the lions like I do. I’m already a part of this team, so it’ll be easier for me to bond than some outsider!”  

The others all share a look. It had to be Allura. Of course it did. But it was a shame that it had to come to this. 

“Who will you pilot?” Hunk moves the discussion forward. Allura smiles and taps her chin thoughtfully. Her eyes move around to look at all the lions. She sighs at a fond memory. 

“My father was the red paladin, and if Keith is piloting black then…” Allura steps towards the red lion. She smiles and places her hand on its barrier. It vibrates under her touch, but does not break.

“It just seems logical.” There’s fondness in her blue eyes. She leans forward and places both palms on the barrier.

“Of course there is the issue of the red lion being the most temperamental so…” Allura laughs. The barrier doesn’t budge under her. Still keeping her out. Keith shakes his head. 

“She doesn’t like it when you call her that.” He sings.

Allura winces. She pats the barrier gently. 

“Ah, sorry girl. I didn’t mean it.” She coos. “I understand how important your paladin is. I know how much you need to trust them. I don’t want to push, but please… please I need you to…” Allura pauses. Her mouth goes taut. She stares at the giant beast in front of her trying to sense it. She leans against the barrier with a frustrated sigh. 

“How did you do this, Keith? I can tell this isn’t working at all.”

“I blasted myself out of an airlock if you must know.”

“Guys, guys,” Lance holds up his hands. “You’re going about this all wrong. For blue and I…. it was like love at first sight!” Lance saunters over to where Allura stands. 

“Your lion is your lady, and she has to know that you are going to love and respect her. You can’t grovel, you gotta woo her.” Lance stands next to Allura. 

“Mind if I show you?” He grins. Allura rolls her eyes.

“Oh yes please. Demonstrate for all of us.” 

Lance rises to the bait. He clears his throat. 

“Hello Red, you look radiant as always. Would it be ok if I spent the evening with you?” He raises his hand to knock on the barrier. 

He immediately falls through. With a vibration and a crackle, he stumbles into the red lions perimeter. He catches himself before he eats cement. He turns to beam at everyone. They look on with disbelief. Particularly Keith.

“See!” Lance exclaims happily. His voice sounds distant and crackly inside the barrier. “Just like that!” He turns to shoot finger guns at the red lion. “Thanks red, you’re beautiful. i love you. Ok Allura, if you just want to…”

Lance bumps against the barrier.

He stares at it in confusion. He tries to step forward and bumps against it once more.

‘What…?” He whispers. 

“Oh no…” Allura stares. Pidge’s eyes widen. Keith starts to look manic. 

Allura, Hunk and Pidge all touch the barrier. None of them can get in.

And Lance can’t get out.

Lance starts to push harder against the barrier. 

“Guys, I can’t…. how do I…?”

“Lance, Lance…” Allura shakes her head. She holds his gaze through the barrier. 

“She’s chosen you.”

Lance’s chest goes cold. He turns over his shoulder to look at the monstrous lion. The red glow around him is bright and hurts his eyes. Nothing like the soothing aura of Blue.

“What?! No! No! Nononono! Blue’s my lion! I’m not giving her up!” Lance beats on the barrier. it flickers underneath his fists. 

“Let me out! Keith! Come talk to your lion! Get me out of here! Tell her I can’t do this! I WON’T do this!”

“Lance, it’s ok. I’m coming I’ll…” Keith smacks into the barrier. So confident that it would peel away for him, that he hadn’t even tried to slow down. He rubs his knee that collided and hisses. He raises his hand to the barrier and pushes. It firmly pushes back. 

“Lance…” He breathily whispers. Lance places his palm opposite Keith’s, so they look like they are touching, but the barrier crackles firmly between them.

“I can’t get in.” His breath shakes with emotion. “She wants you. She’s chosen you.”

Lance blinks away tears. 

“B…but Blue. Blue’s mine. No one can….”

Soft footfalls echo across the hangar. Allura has taken off and runs towards where Blue stands. At a full sprint, she charges forwards and Blue’s barrier easily dissolves around her.

“Alright!” Alurra gives a victorious cheer. Blue lurches forward, opening its mouth ready for Allura to board. 

Lance’s heart breaks. He falls forward. Keith worries his lip and presses himself as close to Lance as he can. Hunk and Pidge wisely walk away. 

“Lance. Lance, I’m so sorry.” Keith whispers. His voice rattles in the comms of Lance’s helmet. 

“But out of everyone here…Red has chosen you. She needs you. Can’t you feel her?”

“But she’s yours, Keith. She’s yours and you’re hers.” Lance’s voice trembles. He looks up into Keith’s face. 

“I know. And she’ll always be mine so….” Keith swallows. “I’ll need you to take really good care of her. She’s trusting you, Lance. I’m trusting you.” Keith looks up with glassy eyes. Blue may have let Allura in, but here Red was actively locking her own paladin out. A surge of sympathy courses through Lance.

“Keith, I’ll…”

Metallic whirring causes lance to turn. Red has bowed down and opened her mouth wide, inviting Lance in.

“You have to go.” Keith states and turns to leave. Lance goes to grab him, but his hand smacks painfully against the barrier.

“Keith wait!” He calls. Keith pauses. His eyebrows knit together and he waits. Lance steps back from the barrier with a frustrated sigh. 

“If I…If I could hug you I would.” He announces. Keith’s eyes widen. 

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A Lesson in Love (The Reunion)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,837

A/N: This is the second to last part in the series, babes. We’re almost done with this journey. 

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - you truly are the best of the best when it comes to editing (and everything else too)

Originally posted by captaincentenarian

You’ve walked the length of this hallway more than a dozen times before. Hundreds, if you count the amount of times you’ve strolled through the hallway in your apartment, one that is a spitting image of the one you’re standing in now. Your familiarity with the small space should make the journey from where you’re standing to where you need to be easy.

Should.

Every time you’ve made this walk, it was never with the knowledge that what’s waiting for you at your final destination had the potential to change everything.

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Only Echoes

My ex’s ghost begins to haunt my apartment a week after the break up. I spot him sitting in our the breakfast nook, sunlight falling like dust through his torso to the rumpled rug in front of the small table. He’s staring out the window, parts of him fading in and out of view.

“No,” I say, grabbing the counter in case my suddenly weak legs betray me. “No.”  

He turns and smiles at me with the weight of the world in his eyes.

I grab my cell phone from the pocket of my sweatpants and call him. One ring. Two rings. Three. 

“Hello?”

My hand tightens around the edge of the counter until I can hear my bones scraping together. “You ass. You don’t get to do this to me. Make it go away.”

He’s silent for a long moment. Then he sighs. “My ghost?”

Yes,” I say. “Get rid of it.”

“You know that’s not how this works,” he says.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to haunt you,” I say. “You broke up with me. That’s how this is supposed to go. So stop.”

Stop or come back.

But he doesn’t say anything else before he hangs up.

I turn to scream at his ghost but, like him, it’s gone.

—————————————————————

“He’s one of those,” my sister says knowingly. She sounds far away and tiny over the computer’s speakers. “You better be careful. Sometimes they don’t leave.”

I consider my cup of cocoa. She’s holding a matching cup half a world away so that they’re connected. I wonder if she’s foregone her usual shot of baileys this time. “What do I do then?”

“Try to move on anyway,” she says. Behind her something peeks around the kitchen doorway and is gone before I can make out who. My sister’s been drinking for a decade and hasn’t once talked about quitting.

“Right,” I say and imagine the poor quality of the speakers hides the hollowness in my voice.

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Teacher (M)

Plot: Maybe asking your Korean teacher for help wasn’t such a bad idea. Good grades weren’t the only thing you were going to achieve from that.

Pairing: Teacher! Jung Hoseok x Student! reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Oral (receiving), Moaning denial, just full-on hardcore Jung Hoseok the sexy beast

Note: This is probably the first time I’m actually posting smut. It took me quite a while to write, considering it was very long, and I need to be in a certain mood for it. Thank you to my friend for giving me this idea. Please forgive me if there are any errors, english isn’t my first language. 3657 Words

P.S. You are 19 in this, and Hoseok is 25. I do not support all that underage sex stuff. Everything here is legal (wrong – please don’t fuck your teacher no matter how hot he is – but legal).

Korean Literature was probably your least favorite subject. You hated just everything about it – well – excluding the teacher. He always greeted you with a smile, asked you if you wanted help. You were the only foreigner in the class, after all. He gave you so much special attention, and you wouldn’t mind it at all. Unfortunately, that didn’t change your view on the subject. No matter how hard you tried, you always got a low grade.

“Okay students, remember we have a test on the new poem this Friday,” His voice echoed through your ears, breaking you out of your trance.

There was a solemn look on your face, while you stared out the window. Your eyes stayed on the uniformed kids flooding out of the school gates, while your nail dug under the staple holding your latest spelling test together.

5 out of 10. It was better than the last one.

No matter how bad it got, you always had this urge to try. You always wanted to keep studying for a higher score, but you just never seemed to understand everything that was thrown at you. It was like everything registered into your brain, but it never stayed – it disappeared, unlike your determination to do well.

As your eyes flickered over to the teacher, a nervous feeling settled in your chest. You now stayed after school for that exact reason. A few days ago, Hoseok had offered to help tutor you for an hour everyday until the test. It had been at least a week since he started, and you could safely say that you were getting better.

“Are you ready to start?” 

“Yeah.”

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Something about Fate

Dean decides to go to a new psychic in town - just for the hell of it, of course - with his roommate Castiel, and doesn’t get the reading he was expecting.

~5.2k

AO3

“Hey, Cas, have you ever been to a psychic?”

Dean watched as Castiel looked up from his book with his eyebrows pinched together.

“No.” A pause. “Why do you ask?”

Dean shrugged.

“Garth texted me. Apparently there’s one in town that he went to yesterday and he’s obsessed. He said she really knows her stuff.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow before returning his attention to the textbook he had sprawled across their kitchen counter, so he could eat and study at the same time - a sight that was not all that uncommon in their apartment.

“Psychics don’t exists, Dean,” he said, matter-of-factly, as he turned the page. “People who claim to be psychic are scammers hoping to draw in the desperate or the gullible. Garth is the latter, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, he’s not -”

“Remember when Gabriel told him that stop signs with a white rim around them were optional?”

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled out a stool on the opposite side of the counter from his roommate.

“Duh, Cas. I know that they aren’t legit. Everyone does. But at the very least they’re supposed to be super good at reading people and then you essentially pay them to tell you what their first impression of you is.”

A small smile crept its way across Castiel’s face.

“I could tell you that for free, you know.”

Dean flipped him off as he got up and pulled out an apple from the refrigerator, not even bothering to look back as he did so.

“Whatever. I think it could be kind of cool.”

“Then by all means…” Castiel wrote something down in a notepad and flipped to the next page. “I think you should do it. I have free time tomorrow if you’d like to find this psychic then.”

Dean tossed the apple between his hands.

“You’d come with me?”

“Of course. I would never miss the opportunity to witness someone predicting your death.”

Castiel laughed as Dean flipped him off again.

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