i worked like an hour on this and it still came out bad :((

“make the princess speak and you will have the crown of kings.”

my knees hurt, as usual, from scrubbing. technically i’m too high of Maid Station to help out with these things, but i like seeing what happens when you clean. the development of things. how a lot of effort can make something. i like learning and trying and working hard to get towards something.

and i’ve seen them, from the back of pillars, from behind cracked doors, from beside her (on the best days) the way they talk to her. oh beautiful won’t you just look at me. oh darling. if you speak i’ll be your prince. if you speak i’ll be your king. 

the princess, i know, finds the lines of suitors boring. it’s in the way her hands are always moving. she hides yawns, leaves early, we make her apologies. once, a man comes and tries to startle her into screaming. she rolls her eyes and looks directly at me. i have to hide my smile behind my sleeve. he is taken away while still screaming.

by accident, i find her once, crying. when we imagine princesses, they always cry daintily. hers is hoarse, angry, and something in it breaks me. in my station i should apologize and bow and leave. instead i am frozen, watching her shoulders heaving.

she looks up and spots me, her cheeks ruddy. i know i should go but instead i make a big show. i act as one of her princes. i make grand gestures and speak in deep voices. i frantically offer her handkerchiefs and trip over my own two feet. a smile crawls up over her, slowly. i dab my sweat away and offer her the used rag. i feign a fluster, turn a terrible cartwheel, make shadow puppets. the sound of her laugh, raw and rusty, sends shivers through me.

for a while, i do not see her after this. but then i am called to her chambers. she is crying again. i offer silly gifts, pebbles and dusting rags and a candlestick from her own kitchen, pretend to steal it, use it as a hat, rock it as a babe. she laughs more easily this time, gladly, and when she laughs i am taken by more important maids, thereby officially Excused.

it goes like this for months. the winter comes. i rarely see her. i spend my week thinking about ways to please her. i knick interesting cookies, show her shiny buttons, learn to cartwheel in a full skirt, and then promptly how to make it look foolish again. i learn how to juggle hot bread and dance as a man would, i learn how to balance on a ball and how to fall down without hurting myself, how to fake a fight with my own body, which colors she likes and which don’t please her.

i show up on a cold eve with a knotted line of scarves hidden down my sleeve, worried and breathless, wondering why she’s been crying. the door opens and she is sitting there, happy. at first i’m confused, but she waves me in. next to her is her small dessert, in two containers. i’m not sure how to respond, so i fake a fall to hear her laugh, and then sit at her feet. she gives me ice cream - so rare a treat. i know what went into making it - the hours of shaking. it’s smooth and tasty. i don’t feign my reaction, but she laughs anyway, kindly. 

it goes like this. i see her more frequently. she likes giving me new things, watching me discover i hate kiwi and love oranges and would die if it made her laugh breathlessly. i’ve made her keel over with cackling and she’s put a fire in me. sometimes we just sit there, quietly, enjoying each other’s company. 

it’s in her hands, always moving. little things i thought were just her, fidgeting. here’s how she says she’s thirsty, this is what her hands do when she needs a second to think, here’s how she shows she’s happy. this is how i learn to speak back to her. around her i spend much of my time smiling. i feel every visit is a gift. a new part to unravel. i find out she doesn’t respond to spoken things, that she needs to be looking in order to know you were speaking. sometimes she has me talk and she holds her hands to the base of my throat, her eyes wide and wondering. sometimes she just looks at me and i forget that i’m her jester in chief. i get caught up in her eyes, in how expressive they are when she’s happy, in how when she’s sad i feel like i’m drowning.

i never see the king or queen, but i know when she’s had a visit with them, because she never comes back happy. two winters i have known her, two winters and now we dine frequently. i am often called to stand beside her, to whisper translations of her desires into the ears of someone more important than i, someone who gets to be the voice of royalty. i can’t decide if i’m her friend or her plaything, but i don’t know i care much of the distinction. every moment i’m near her is a moment free of friction. i take stock of suitors and curtsy to them in daylight only to mock them in the candle’s eye later.

she asks me one night to stay. it has been a bad day. it’s completely not okay. i cannot say no but i cannot, by my station, stay. but she begs with her eyes and her hands and i know i’ll take the punishment. 

we lie beside each other. i make sure to turn to her when i speak. in the dark she can’t see me, so i move my hands in the way i’m learning. she asks if i am ever lonely. i cannot tell her that i am always lonely without her beside me, so instead i say i think all people are very lonely and just are pretending. she laughs a little at that and says she thinks her parents are the two most lonely people that ever met. her mother was like her; broke a fairy curse and talked, just once, although nobody knows what she said. well, excepting her father, who was the only one around, and who won her hand in marriage.

from her mother she learned the art of hands, of speaking without words - from her father she learned that who she was included a curse. that she just wanted someone who would make her open like a rose - someone who could fix her. how she stared out into the royal garden and wished on flowers to be what her kingdom needs.

she fell asleep pressed against me. i couldn’t breathe. i was still awake in the morning. 

the punishment never came. we spent nights like this. the handmaidens had grown to know me. whenever their princess was stubborn, i worked magic and made her lovely.

it was a terrible thing. i did too good a job, i think. the princess glowed too much or shone too brightly - or at least, i saw it that way, so who knows what the truth is. every day it felt like we were being rushed with princes. 

her father’s temper at hosting failed. it was the day before her twenty-first birthday and first time i’d ever seen him. he stormed in at the end of the session. “just speak!” he said, “it’s not that hard! do for others what your mother did!” 

“tomorrow is your last day of this,” he warned her, “either you pick a prince or i pick for you. i’m done with it.”

he stormed off. she was left shellshocked and trembling. that night she didn’t ask me to come, but i waited outside, just in case she changed her mind. i understood why she needed space. either she’d speak and be married tomorrow or she’d be married shortly. i heard her crying and it took everything in my power not to rush in and hold her, cradle her gently. but i cannot come into a room of a royal person without being invited. i stayed there, tears in my own eyes, thinking of treason.

the next day was a huge festival. what had been a birthday celebration was turned into a day about princes. i watched her shake her head. i tried to cheer her up. i tried everything. i frequently came inches from causing public humiliation, toed the line of mocking and failing to acknowledge my station. she wouldn’t smile. not once. not even for anything.

the day was long. the bonfire wore down. i watched her crumple into herself. i was out of ideas. i knelt at her feet. her eyes barely looked at me. just wait, i said to her with my hands, i’ll be right back. i took off running.

the price of stealing is losing my hands. these things that i spoke to her with. these things that mattered so much to me, that helped with my comedy and cleaning. 

i didn’t think of them. i bloodied my fingers when i ripped the royal roses from their stems. and then i ran, as fast as i could, back to her feet. i picked them to show you, i said, as she gasped, looking at my treason, they’re beautiful and nobody told them to open to reveal their secrets to the bees. they are unbroken. as you are. as you always will be. 

she fell off her throne and for a second i was beyond speaking, worried something had happened, or she’d fainted, or i’d said the wrong thing. but then she was on her knees, her arms around me, and i heard it. i heard the soft croak of her speaking. just one word, and it sent shivers down me. my name, in her voice, awkward and unwieldy, but full of love and passion, burning fire through me.

i felt a hand on my shoulder. i was pulled away from her. they already had me in handcuffs while i struggled to get back to her, to tell her i loved her, to beg her to run off with me or maybe just hold me around her, maybe just have her for a moment, because i couldn’t live without her for a moment longer.

they put me in the cells. i rotted in there, for a while or for no time at all, i’m not sure. the thorns scarred my palms. i watched the scabs build up and flake off. every time someone came down, i flinched, wondering if i would be the next to be taken and chopped into bits.

but one day the light was different. not the smoky torch of the jailer, instead a bright light in a lantern. at first when i saw her, my breath caught in my throat, mistaking her for my princess.

but she was my queen. at first we stood in silence. and slowly, i moved my hands to speak. is she married? is what came out, even though i should be more worried about me myself and me.

she is not. she bit her father on the arm when he tried to make her. then she fought him. and then ran away. it took us a bit to find her, i’m afraid. she threatened her own life and the life of everyone in this place. the queen was smiling. i was told there was a young woman who could make the princess speak, whom she would die to save, who brought roses to her feet. someone in a cell, rotting. are you her?

the memory of her voice rang through me. i’m she.

yes, her hands said, for even now, aren’t you speaking to the silent Queen?

she opened the door. come, she said, let’s get you cleaned up for the ceremony.

the crown of kings. when she wraps her arms around my neck and laughs next to me, i am royalty. when she smiles or makes a joke or asks to see my cartwheel again, i’m lost in her. i kiss her whenever i can, which is often. we have roses in a vase at the base of our bed, and for all of the kingdom, i’d give my hands if it would keep her laughing.

the next time she spoke was just once, at our wedding, where she said the two words i do to bind us for eternity. she had learned from me, from holding her hands over my voicebox, the way i learned from her how to use hands to speak. sometimes at night she says my name, just because she likes what it does to me.

i’m more blessed than a king. every day i spend with her is a day i spend happily. 

Q&A Transcript with Alex Hirsch at MomoCon 2017

Question: Before you decided to make Bill the main bad guy, did you have another character in mind that would have been the villain? 

Alex: Yeah, um that’s a good question. Uh, so, when we came up with the villain of the show, I knew that… I knew that Bill was involved. And I knew that Ford had disappeared due to some deal gone wrong with some villain next to the mystery of how Gravity Falls was all assembled. 

Um, but, I didn’t yet decide that Bill was that character in the very beginning, y'know? I had always imagined it was some sort of evil character somewhere kinda hidden in the woods. I wasn’t sure I could go with the Bill idea cuz I thought it would be too much like Twin Peaks, but as we got further along the series we discussed it among the repairs and we were like, ‘none of our other villain ideas were as good.’ Bill, Bill was weirder than anything else we thought of. Um, I remember there were other ideas. Strange monsters and government officials; some kind of cthulhu– some weird crazy old man. But nothing was ever better than Bill, so it ended up sticking. Probably somewhere around, y'know, season one– midway through season one, we started thinking we might be– might be on point.

Q: Was Grunkle Stan ever aware of McGucket’s connection to his brother? 

 A: Oh, oh that’s such a good question. Wait, let me think about that for a second… Uh… lemme see… I don’t think so. I don’t think Stan was ever aware of McGucket’s connection to his brother. Because, by the time Stan traded identities with Ford, uh… McGucket had already gone off the deep end– Was already y'know, had already created the Society of the Blind Eye; had already lost his own memory. So Stan would’ve really only known McGucket as a local obnoxious fisherman. 

And McGucket, probably somewhere deep in the back of his mind, was eerily just drawn to Stan in a way he just couldn’t put his finger on, because he thought maybe he knew him, but– I don’t– I think Stan was ignorant of that. Um, I think Stan… I think Stan looking through the journals probably should’ve put two and two together, but Stan’s not the best at book-learnin’. Uh, so… my guess is Stan wouldn’t have known despite that uh, that there’s a lot of tumblr art out there showing them as like the Scooby-Doo gang. I don’t think Stan ever really knew McGucket before.

Q: What episode do you believe came out the strongest and the most well rounded overall? And is it the same as your personal favorite episode?

 A: Oh gosh. Um. That’s a great question. Hmm… I probably feel, personally, that the strongest episode is uh, “Not What He Seems” just because it’s such a dramatic episode. Like, we know– We’ve never had an episode that dramatic. But, when we first pitched it to Disney executives… they thought it was bad. [laughs] Um, Because it didn’t have a lot of jokes in it? Like, I remember normally when we’re pitching our episode, executives can usually gauge how good they are by how much people laugh. People didn’t really laugh for that one, because it’s really tense. So we thought, maybe we’d screwed up. But, when the animation came back we were like, 'Oh! It’s GOOD that it’s tense. Like, it worked!’ Um, So, I dunno if that’s my favorite episode, but I think– that’s the episode we should’ve won an Emmy for, and I’m still pissed we didn’t. [laughs]

In terms of favorite episode, like… I dunno. I think the first episode that I really felt that the show was really starting to feel the way I wanted it to– “Time Traveler’s Pig” in season one. Like, that was an episode where Dipper had an interesting story, and Mabel had an interesting story, and uh, felt nostalgic, and based around the summer, and had a big secret callback to even previous episodes, so– I just remember when we first just got that episode back in color, I was like, 'hey I think maybe I like how I’m making this cartoon show,’ so I think that has a particularly fond place in my heart, y'know.

Q: Is Disney bringing you to SDCC or NYCC later this year to promote the journal and other books coming out? 

 A: Right, um, yeah, Disney– Disney… Disney-general and me, have like– we’re divorced. Like, they kept the house, and the pets. Y'know what I mean? It’s… we don’t like get dinner or anything. But, the Disney Publishing department, separate from Disney Television, they’re really cool, and enthusiastic, and energized. And they wanna make new cool stuff. Um, so I think it’s possible I might be at D23 this year, and it’s possible I might be at Comic Con, but I don’t have anything confirmed yet.

Q: In the scene where Bill is trying to convince Ford to join him in the Fearamid, were there any other jokes or story beats that were considered? 

 A: Which episode specifically are you talking about? [Q: The We’ll Meet Again scene.] Yea yea yea, We had a– Every scene that you’ve ever seen in the show has a ton of ton of stuff we’ve thought of and had to cut for time or other reasons. Um, I remember there was definitely a version of that where Bill was a lot trickier. Like, he sort of more successfully lied to Ford about like: 'We’re actually going to make the world a better place. Though I present myself as this chaos lunatic that’s just my personality.' Like, 'here’s ways in which we’ll IMPROVE the universe.' 

Um, but it felt out of character. We thought it was much more like Bill to just draw smiley faces in oceans and eat the sun and just– hope, that the force of his charisma could convince Ford that that was a good idea. But uh, I feel like– I feel like Bill can be really really tricky when he wants to, but by the time Weirdmageddon showed up he’s so impatient, and he’s so convinced that he won, that he was no longer like, this brilliant chess master he used to be. He’s like, 'alright let’s do it! Do what I want or I’ll eat your face.’ Like, no more– No more, like– He wasn’t as smart a tactician as he used to be, y'know?

Q: Was “We’ll Meet Again” always the song you were going to use? 

A: Oh yeah, it had to be that. It was like… I think I’d just seen Dr. Strangelove recently around that time and it stuck in my head. It seems to me, if Bill has a taste in music, it would be, like, old timey music that ranges from either weird to obnoxious to obscure. 

Uh, Disney wanted me to cut it cuz it cost them a bunch of money to get the rights, even though it’s so old, it still cost them money to get the rights. And I just… said, please. Over and over and over again. I would send an e-mail that just said, 'please.’ And send another e-mail that said, 'please.’ And I would send another e-mail that said– Yeah. [laughs] Eventually I wore them down that they’re like, 'alright we’ll spend thousands of dollars.’ [laughs]

Q: Are real comics coming? 

 A: You want comics? Would you read Gravity Falls comics?
[Audience screams]
[Alex leans his ear forward]
[AUDIENCE SCREAMS]

A: It’s a terrifying noise isn’t it, Michael? I was at a… Gravity Falls gallery, and like, they didn’t tell us how many people would show up, and it was like, THAT noise echoing from every corner. And uh like, I think I lost a year of my life. My hair started going gray, and it was like, 'oh my god, this is too much love! It’s terrifying.' 

Comics. I would love to do Gravity Falls comics. Um, I have so many… One of the tough things about a half hour show like Gravity Falls is every now and then we think of an idea that we really liked, but it was too short for a half hour; 'oh that’s only five minutes of story’– Or it’s too specific and weird. And so I have tons and tons of ideas of the show that y'know we’d like to explore this character, we’d like to show this secret, this storyline. So, I’d love to do comics. But, that’s up to Disney Publishing, and I’m trying to convince them. So, hopefully, I’ll have something exciting to announce in not too long.

Q&A with Stan and Soos

Q: Is Dipper adorable or manly?  

Stan: Dipper smells like baby wipes. Even if I cut off all my shoulder hair, and taped it to him, he wouldn’t be 1/10th as manly I am.

Q: What would you do if Mabel told you she had a date to prom? 

Stan: I would… invite the gentleman over, have some coffee, tie him to a chair and interrogate him for 10 hours, and maybe throw him in the pit. [shrug] Hands off my neice, kid!

Q: What would happen if Soos met Giffany again? 

Soos: Oh yea, I recently downloaded this couple’s therapy sim? Uh, I think she and I would have to talk about our issues and pass around a conversation pillow, and really work out these struggles. Cuz she’s got some problems, dude.

Q: Soos, why are you so perfect? 

Soos: Yeah, uh, my grandma said that a whole bunch of doves flew down and formed the shape of a perfect angel over my crib. I dunno, dude I guess I was just born that way.

The Boxer

Pairing: Y/N and Harry

Word Count: 10k

Prompt: Harry hires Y/N as his on call nurse and for his matches. 

or 

“You’re supposed to be in the hospital gown, it’s why we laid it out for you,” Y/N stated, pointing the pen in her hand at the white gown by his feet.

“I’m not wearing that paper shit,” Harry grumbled, “and I’m perfectly fine to leave.”

“That cut says otherwise,” Y/N says.

Harry watches as she sets down the clipboard and turns on the sink to wash her hands, she’s cute. She’s nothing like the kind Harry would go for. His usual prey would be at the bar, lonely, maybe going through a breakup, but he knew for sure that by the end of the night she would be in his bed. Y/N on the other hand looked like too pure for him, and he hated that look.

From his experience Harry had learned that girls like Y/N believed that they were too good for a guy like him. Girls like Y/N, with an innocent smile, soft skin, and soft voices, tended to only use him for one thing, to make their parents upset. Harry had seen it time and time again, it was only a matter of weeks before the girl would crush his heart and move on to someone better.

“I don’t feel anything,” Harry stated.

Harry had grown numb to just about everything. He couldn’t feel the punches thrown at him, he couldn’t feel his emotions, it all just seemed gone to him. He didn’t mind though, no emotions meant he couldn’t get hurt, and no pain meant he was unstoppable.

or

Boxer Harry Styles highers, incredibly perky Y/N as his on-call nurse.


“I hate the graveyard shift,” Y/N stated, slumping into the chair.

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11:57 PM - Peter Parker

request - alright i fuckin love tom holland so please like a smut where you catch peter sneaking in after dark and he tells you about his whole spider thing while you take care of wounds and such, and he’s like super scared your gonna leave him and so you reassure him and take care of him in another way if you catch my drift, this was real long but yeah thank you 

a/n - yes finally i post a smut fic on this blog and tbh it was kind of fun and interesting to write so i hope it isn’t a flop like me but don’t forget to request a peter parker/spider-man fic if you want and follow!

10:46 PM. Nearly 4 hours ever since Peter left me alone in his room. We were doing our Calculus homework with one another until he claimed he got an emergency phone call and ran out the door before I could say anything, taking his backpack with him.

The only thing that kept me company was my textbook and the sound of the falling rain from the outside. May was fast asleep in her room while I was far from that, my heart becoming a mix between anger and fear. I bounced my pencil against the pages of the math book, staring at my calculator as time went by.

I checked my phone again, 10:50 PM. Still no texts, no calls, nothing. I stared at my lockscreen for a few seconds before shutting off my phone and pushing it to the side, growing more frustrated by the minute.

“Dammit Peter.” I muttered, throwing my head back in a fit. I listened to the sound of the raindrops to try to calm me down, but nothing was working at this point.

I huffed and got up from the desk, beginning to pack my things up and call it a night, being more than prepared to give Peter the silent treatment for the next week. Just as I was about to zip my bag up, I heard the locks on the window become undone.

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It’s a [Tinder] Date! (Part 1/3)

Summary: Thinking he needs to find a date, Natasha signs Steve up to Tinder. In Queens, Peter Parker does the same to you. It’s a match! 

Word Count: 1,723

A/N: This is already planned out and written (in my head). I loved writing this.

Originally posted by imaginingbucky


Nat raised a brow, a mysterious curve to her smile. Steve was immediately suspicious. He felt his shoulders stiffen and his back straighten. He knew he looked like he had a stick up his ass, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when Natasha looked like the cat that had eaten the canary, and wanted to get caught.

“You left your phone on the coffee table,” she said. Her tone was relaxed, which made Steve more nervous.

His eyes narrowed. “What did you do, Romanoff?” he questioned, broad arms crossing over an equally-broad chest.

She merely shrugged before she turned her right-hand palm-up and relaxing it. Steve’s phone was revealed. “See for yourself.”

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Foreign

Plot: Jimin always thought his traditional Korean girlfriend was perfect – that was, until he realized how beautiful foreigners could be.

Pairing: Idol!Park Jimin x Backup Dancer!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Notes: I based this off of every single MTL I have seen of BTS dating a girl of a different race or a girl of color – Jimin always seems to be one of the people who were least likely to date one. I definitely do not think that Jimin is this ignorant in any way. This is only a work of fiction. This is for all the international beauties! 2,536 Words

Familiar | masterlist

Originally posted by bwipsul

“Oppa, I’m missing you so much!”

“I’m missing you too, my love. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in a few days, okay?”

One of the worst parts about tour was leaving lovers behind. For Jimin, it wasn’t only his lover, it was his home. He enjoyed tour, performing for all of the ARMYs around the world, going on stage; but he wasn’t a huge fan of being in a foreign country. He didn’t know English that well, and he wasn’t fond of being in a place where he couldn’t understand anything. 

“I know,” The soft voice of his significant other brought pink to his cheeks. “Call me when your rehearsal is over.”

“I will, I love you,” He glanced at the leader of his band, who was calling him over.

“I love you too.”

With that, he had ended the call with a sigh, and headed over to his band. It hadn’t even been a few minutes since he cut the call, and he was already missing her – a thought he had experienced after each long-distance conversation with his lover. The short male shook his head and got his head back in the game, his eyes going up to meet a group of people dressed in black.

“This is your dance crew for this city,” The manager announced to the band. “Not all of them know Korean, so if you have an queries, just talk to Jihoon. He is the leader.”

“We understand.”

Once that brief introduction was done, they were all left to their own devices for a few minutes, whilst the leader of the dance team talked to the leader of the band. Jimin had let himself scan over the people he would be working with; not that he would talk to them, he was just curious and bored. Most of them had masks on – no one had really caught his eyes, except for one person. 

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Married with Benefits (Part 15)

Summary: In order to not pay out-of-state tuition, you ask your friend, Steve Rogers, to marry you. Things, as always, never go as planned. (College AU)

Word Count: 766

“Married with Benefits” Masterlist

A/N: Next part is the end, guys :D 

Originally posted by oursisthefvry


The next day, you woke up to Steve’s arms around you, clothes nowhere to be found. Steve grinned as he felt you move, letting you pull back from him to stretch. He demanded a good-morning kiss, waving away your protests about morning breath. You ate breakfast together, laughing together and feeling giddy by just looking at each other.

“Oh, my mom called,” remarked Steve, taking a sip of his coffee. “Basically screaming.”

You cringed. “She saw your Facebook?”

“Was incredibly, epically offended we didn’t invite her.”

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Cinderella

Summary: After waking up in the morning finding out you had a one night stand with someone you don’t even know…you rush out as quickly as possible…too bad you forgot your cell phone.

Pairing: Jeon Jeong-guk (Jungkook) / Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 2k

A/N: extremely Mature rating

Part 2 | Part 3Masterlist


“How do I look?” You asked your best friends.

“Gorgeous.” They said at the same time. You settled on a simple black dress, that hugged your curves beautifully.

“And here.” Your friend Lalisa got up and scrunched up your long hair with her fingers. “Guys like messy.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” It wasn’t your idea to go out in the first place. Your friends thought it would make you feel better, help you move on from your tragic breakup that ended a month ago and you happen to still be hung up on.

Illhoon was the best thing that has ever happened to you and being together for three years, things just weren’t working out. You were always fighting, he was always busy, and you haven’t been sexually active in months. He was always loyal to you, too loyal that he broke things off. He felt bad that he couldn’t give you the love you deserve. He just wasn’t happy, which you respected.

Now your pain in the ass friends were trying to set you up.

“Okay….lets go.” Lalisa marched out and Rosé gave you an apologetic look.

“It will be fun, don’t worry.” She told you.

-

When you got to the club it was surprisingly not that crowded. Which was a relief. “Lets get some fuel.” Lalisa started walking towards the bar.

6 shots later you were starting to get buzzed that you decided to slow down on a casual drink. “Hey.” You looked up following the voice. “Do you see that hot guy over there.” Lalisa pointed with her eyes.

You started to look. “Hey don’t be obvious.” She alerted you.

“Sorry.” You snorted. Maybe the alcohol had kicked in more then you thought.

You slightly looked over, pretending to not be obvious. You saw more then one hot guy, to be honest, but one got your heart racing.

He had dark hair and a killer smile. Possibly one of the most handsome guy you have ever seen. Not counting Illhoon. Shit! You weren’t suppose to be talking about him.

“Go over there and talk to him.” Lalisa pressured you.

“Unless it’s too soon.” Rosé debated.

“No it’s the perfect opportunity….its been long enough…you need to put yourself back out there.” Lalisa argued.

“I’m going over there.” Lalisa stood up. “I’m going to introduce him to you and then I’m going to take his hot friend with the dimples.” Then she stormed off.

As you saw her talking you decided to take about 3 more shots, you were too sober for this.

You saw the guy smile in your direction. “Lalisa always wins.” Rosé said and got up to walk over to one of the other guys.

You were left drinking alone. You didn’t want to act like you were desperate and you weren’t, you wanted to take it at a slow level.

You were slightly drunk that you almost thought the hot guy was walking over.

“Hi.” Oh, it’s real. “I’m Jungkook.” He reached his hand out to you.

“Hi.” You blushed as you stood up, accepting his handshake. “I’m (Y/N).”

“Your friend over there gave a pretty good word for you.”

“What did she say?” You nervously asked.

“She said that I’m an idiot if I don’t talk to you because you are the hottest thing that has ever hit this club.”

You slapped you forehead amused. “I’m so sorry about her.”

“I wouldn’t disagree.” You looked at his sweet smile and blushed.

Your friends were right, you need to let lose, have fun. “Let’s go dance.” You pulled his hand, leading him to the dance floor.

The alcohol took over as you reached the dance floor. You just wanted to have a good time. You felt Jungkook’s hands wrap around your waist as you grinded your hips with his. Your back was rubbing against his chest as you danced in motion.

A few drinks later and a few sexual dances later the rest of the night was all a blur. You knew you wouldn’t remember anything in the morning. You couldn’t remember the fact that you shared an intense kiss.

The second that your lips aligned with his, you were hungry for more. You felt connected with him, but you knew better then to trust the alcohol.

And this case you did. “Do you want to get out of here?” You whispered in his ear.

“Yeah.” Then you don’t even remember getting to his apartment but you got there. As soon as you both tumbled into the door you jumped up wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to his bedroom.

He moved down to your neck as soon as your back hit the bed sheets. The sexual tension from each wet kiss had you feeling soaked between your legs.

You heard your phone ring on the table beside you. You couldn’t read the name from your blurry vision, so you tossed it instead.

Jungkook made his way back up to your lips as you felt up the front of his jeans. You attempted to unbutton his belt along with his pants. His hand found itself kneading your chest. You couldn’t help but moan, it’s been a while since you have been touched like this.

You slid your hand underneath his boxers, touching up his sensitive area. The area was tight from his hard-on.

You flipped you both over so you can pull down your dress, leaving you in your bra and underwear. You finished pulling down his pants, exposing his length. Wow. Again, the alcohol bringing out the sweet girl you tried to convince yourself to be.

You grabbed his length kissing the red tip. You loved the sound that escaped his mouth as you started to lick down his area. You couldn’t help but smirk from the thought that you were in control. You made your way back up to the tip leaning your head down to take him fully into your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down sucking every inch of his throbbing member.

You sat back up letting go of him you didn’t want him to take all the fun. You wrapped your arms around your back to unhook your bra and then you slid your underwear off sexually.

He sat up looking at you with desire in his eyes. You bit your lip as you watched him take off his clothes. He was extremely fit. You slid yourself down onto him, surprised by the sudden pain.

You rocked your hips back and forth taking in the pleasure that you desperately needed. You moaned as he worked against you. He grabbed a hold of your hips moving you quicker then you can handle.

You screeched in surprise when he flipped you both over as he took control. He lifted your right leg up onto his left shoulder to deepen the angle. You loved how attractive he was even though he was sweaty.

You felt your toes go numb as your orgasm immerse throughout your body. You squeezed your eyes shut trying to pass through the feeling. Jungkook’s pace slowed down immensely as you felt him jerk his liquid into you. He kissed you passionately before he collapsed on the bed next to you. After that you let the sleep get a hold of you.

-

Your eyes fluttered open as the killer headache flooded your skull. You yawned sitting up when you realized you didn’t recognize the room. You took in your surroundings as yours eyes drifted off to the sleeping beauty next to you. The last thing you remember was dancing with him. Oh shit! What have you done?

You slowly got up trying not to wake what’s his name. Jungkook? You tried to remember. As soon as your feet hit the floor you reached for your underwear and dress. You grabbed your heels, tip toeing your way out of his room. Damn he was beautiful but one night stands are always awkward, that’s why it’s best to sneak out.

On your way out you saw a sweater pulled over a chair. You know you shouldn’t but you took it to at least to save your dignity. When you made your way onto the streets it was way too familiar. This was your street. You only had to walk down a few blocks to reach your apartment. The sweater covering you didn’t have an affect, people still stared at you. Judging you.

When you got home your roommate was in the kitchen.

“Oh my god there you are.” Rosé panicked. “I tried calling you.”

You stopped in front on the mirror making your way to the kitchen. Your makeup was running down your face and your hair was a mess. No wonder everyone was staring.

“Wow you bad girl.” Rosé smirked at you. “You and Lalisa ditching me to go have sex.” She pouted.

“Other then you two I had a nice sober talk with a sweet guy named Jin.”

“That’s nice.” You grabbed the aspirin.

“Anyways….what happened?”

“I don’t remember.” You groaned.

You went to sit comfortably on the couch. Rosé followed you with an ice cold pack.

“I snuck out before I could ask.” You confessed.

“Well maybe you’ll see him again.”

“Maybe….we better call Lalisa to see if shes okay.” You suggested.

“I already did…but both of you ignored my calls.” Rosé intrigued.

You felt the pockets of the sweater, feeling for your phone. It wasn’t there. You got up following your steps to the door where your purse was. You dug through it rapidly trying to find your phone.

“Fuck.” You said panicked “fuck, fuck, fuck.” You got up.

“What?” Rosé rushed to you.

“I forgot my phone.”

-

A few hours later you were still panicked. “What am I going to do?”

“I told you already.” Rosé said annoyed.

Both your eyes made their way towards the door as it opened. Lalisa made her way through with a big smile on her face. “What’s up?” She said casually.

“Where the fuck were you?” Rosé sat up annoyed. “I’ve trying calling you all day.”

“Sorry I was out.” She made her way towards her room. Then she came back out with a bathrobe getting ready for a shower. “I had the best time last night.” She smiled. “I think I’ll stick around with this one.” The thing with Lalisa was she would hook up with guys until she found one she liked.

“He’s so cute and he has like the perfect body, nice and tall, lean.” She blushed. “We had like the best morning sex and then he bought me out for breakfast.”

“Anyway what about you? I saw you guys last night, I almost thought you were going to go at it in the dance floor.” She laughed.

You just sighed. “What’s wrong?” Lalisa asked.

“This whole thing makes me uncomfortable, sleeping with someone I just met….I don’t even remember him that much, just his face.”

“Well maybe if you didn’t sneak out maybe you could get to know him.” Rosé said.

“You snuck out….oh (Y/N)….that’s going to give him the wrong idea and now you’ll probably never see him again.” Lalisa said disappointed.

“She’s going to have too.” Rosé spoke for you.

Lalisa looked at you both. “I forgot my phone.” You said trying to stay calm.

-

“What if he answers?”

“That’s what we want doofus.” Rosé stated.

“I’ll just buy a new phone.” You turned away.

“No you wont.” Lalisa pulled you back.

“Call.” Rosé handed you her phone.

You nervous dialed your phone number. You brought it up to your ear. Your heart started beating quickly as you heard the phone ringing. Lalisa and Rosé were hanging on each shoulder listening.

“Hello.” You heard his cute voice.

“H-hi.” You nervously stuttered.

“(Y/N)?” He remembered your name?

“Hi….um…you have something that belongs to me.”

He laughed. “That’s funny because I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

It took you a few to understand what he meant, but then it occurred to you. You stole his sweater.

-

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3

This City Never Sleeps

Word Count: 3421

Pairing: Eventual Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Requested: Nope

Warnings: Light cursing.

Summary: You learn Peter’s secret, and it doesn’t take long for him to learn yours.

Note: This is really reader-heavy. but I really felt that in order to move on in this verse I had to develop that character and her relationships with the other characters. So, sorry if you wanted more Peter, but I promise there will be more of him in future installments. Also this is the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written in my life.


“(Y/N)! Has Peter told you about his new internship yet?” Ned asked excitedly, sitting down at your usual lunch table. Peter wasn’t there yet, but that wasn’t abnormal. He had chemistry before lunch and had recently taken to spending some extra time in the lab before coming to eat.

“No,” you said. “I haven’t really seen him yet today.”

“Oh, man, I don’t want to spoil it for you but it is crazy!” Ned said.

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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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fashion consults!

as most of you know, I was in the hospital this month. why? my heart. again. always. two cardiac arrests within a fifteen minute span as I was getting ready for work; an ambulance came and got me and everything. after that, it was two weeks of tests and surgery and new medications and short-term disability and ultimately, no answers. my heart condition remains a rare and mysterious jewel. so good news: I’m alive. bad news: I’m an american who just spent two weeks in the best electrocardiology ward in new york city. which means medical bills. so many fucking medical bills. 

now, I have insurance, but before it kicks in I have a significant deductible to meet. every scrap of every paycheck is going towards those bills for the foreseeable future. which isn’t great, considering I took two-thirds of my closet off to a consignment store about a month before this happened. You guys know me, I’d like to be able to fill it out again. so I’m proposing a trade: I’ll dress you if you dress me. 

style consulting - rates and services

  1. $15 option - one time occasion styling! if you have a wedding or a graduation or a big date coming up, I’ll hop on skype with you for a half-hour and see what we can do with the clothes you already have.
  2. $20 option - fashion guidance. I’ll ask you to send me five to seven pictures of outfits, styles, or fashion icons that you like. from there, I’ll write up my impressions of your fashion goals, advise you towards certain trends, and help you solidify your sense of personal style. (here is an example)
  3. $40 option - fashion guidance + personal shopper. You’ll receive all the services of #1, plus I’ll discuss your budget and then go shopping for you. I’ll put together ten items within your price range that will help you meet your style aspirations. 
  4. $65 option - fashion guidance + personal shopper + skype consult. You’ll receive all the services of #1 and #2, plus I will set up a 45 minute in-person skype consult with you. We’ll go through your closet (or whatever items you choose) together, and I’ll help you pinpoint which garments will work with your new look, and which ones won’t. 

**request via an ask - include your email address, your name, and which service you want - I’ll send you an email and we can begin the conversation there.** 

(note: all these prices are suggested. obviously if you’re willing to donate more, I’d appreciate it, each option takes about an hour and a half more to do than the option preceding it. if you want something different than what I’m offering, send me a message and we’ll talk details.)

(second note: I’ll be doing these requests in the order I get them. When I get your inquiry, I’ll let you know where you are in the queue.)

I’ll still be giving out style advice all the time on this blog, don’t worry! But in-depth, individually tailored stuff takes me a lot of time, and I’d like to be able to turn that into something I can use to buy shoes that won’t fall apart with nyc wear.

hope to dress you soon! ♥

Before I Loved You || Peter Parker x Reader [Part 1]

Request: “Reader has been friends with Peter since before his parents died, making them childhood friends. She’s loved him for as long as she can remember and has always been there for him through thick and thin. But he starts to become distant with the whole hero thing, making her feel like she isn’t worth it anymore to him. After she sees him and Liz kiss at homecoming, she moves on to date someone but doesn’t realize Peter was actually going to tell her his secrets and ask her out.” -By Tumblr Anon

Title: Before I Loved You
Pairing: Peter Parker x (f)Reader!
Word Count: 2k+
Warning: Fluff, language, shy-stammering/blushing Peter Parker. Slight se.xual situations/dialogue. Angst? Future Homecoming Spoilers.
A/N: Reposting/Plagiarizing is not appreciated, reblog is fine. Wow I posted finally~ I really hope it came out I didn’t edit this one much. Thank you for reading ♡

This may become a 3-4 part series because it is pretty long, and I don’t usually go over 3k words with oneshots.


The day you and Peter met, all started down by the lazy river at the waterpark; a school field trip provided by Midtowns elementary and middle schools. He was the first to come up to you complimenting your Captain America hat, which lead onto a fangirling conversation between you.

“She your little girlfriend now? Look at this~ Puny Parker’s got a girlfriend!” Your moment was ruined though, of course, when some older kid came from behind Peter, just pushing him around, then flicking your hat off into the water“That’s enough!

When you had, had enough you pushed them into the pools river, satisfied they couldn’t get out because of the pools flow. After that, you had offered Peter your favorite gummy eraser of Iron Man to help cheer him up. And from then on, the two of you became good friends.


During the Stark Expo, you had gone with Peter and his parents. But everyone got separated when it ended up in crisis. Much to your surprise, when you had finally found Peter, he stood in front of one of the killer robots with the biggest toothy grin you had ever seen on him. Peter had told you he saw Iron Man, and of course you believed him.

“I stuck out my hand towards the robot?! And then it started pointing its gun at me, then out of nowhere, Iron Man takes it down from behind me! A-and, I was like Woahhhh! And then, then he was like… “Nice work kid.” That’s what he told me, Y/N, it was the coolest thing ever!”


You were Peter’s first kiss, and him yours. It was an accident of course. But when you two were in your last years of middle school, you had gone to a pool party, and the two of you were splashing waves at the other, just having a good time until he decided to try and impress you by jumping off the tall diving board… But ended up doing the world’s worst belly flop.

When he never came up you panicked and swam towards him while everyone laughed, only for him to pull you under. You guys laughed underwater until someone pushed your heads together purposely, making you share your first kiss. And that’s when you knew, you always loved him.

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Quickly (Smut)

MASTERLIST

Request: Airplane sex and some fluff.  

Word count: 4,5745

Faint, slightly irritating rumbling sounds rang in my ears, slowly pulling me out of my otherwise heavy sleep and forced my sore eyes to blink a few times, before being able to open them fully. At first, everything seemed blurry and the noises surrounding me seemed rather unfamiliar. 

Slowly, waking up fully, I found myself laying in Shawn’s lap with my feet across the empty seat, I should have been sitting in. 

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Come Here - Jughead x Reader

Request — Anonymous asked: Can you write one where you think jughead looks amazing in the south side jacket and you let him know and you always pull him by the jacket to kiss him

A/N — I could not get over this request, that finale episode of Riverdale last night FUCKED me up so bad like… can Jughead not get any hotter it’s great and I’m actually loving it. Also, this contains spoilers (duh) since it’s based on episode 13 so if you haven’t watched it yet I’d recommend not to read it if you haven’t watched it yet. Anyway I hope you enjoy this imagine and it may or may not turn into some sort of smut (?), and I’ve changed this up a bit so I hope you don’t mind.

Words: 1050

Warnings: Heavy make out

(Y/N) , (Y/L/N) , (H/C) , (E/C) - Your name, your last name, hair colour, eye colour.

Riverdale was finally coming to a peace. The mystery of Jason Blossom’s murder finally came to a close and all was calm. (Y/N), Jughead, Archie, Betty and Veronica all sat in a booth at Pop’s sipping on a milkshake flavour of their choice. This whole year, you and Jughead got closer and closer due to working on the case with him and the rest of the gang trying to figure out the murder of Jason. Spending long hours alone with you and your crush at the Blue and Gold after school made you really realise your feelings about him and how it affected you. One night, (Y/N) and Jughead stayed together investigating down at Sweetwater River and shared a kiss since the two of you knew that there was sexual tension was there with them. Ever since that incident they haven’t touched each other since. Sure, every time they have a moment alone they always wonder who’s leading who first, but the both of you were two shy at that moment.

After Pop’s, Archie walked Veronica, Betty went home to join her family for dinner and Jughead took (Y/N) to his FP’s house in the Southside. When Jughead broke the news to everyone that he got transferred to Southside High and live with his new foster family instead of living in Riverdale with Archie and his dad. Everyone was shocked and devastated by the news but not as much as (Y/N). So this was her only chance to try express her feelings towards him before he leaves since she doesn’t know when she’ll ever see him again. He bent down to the doormat in front of the door, picking up a key and digging it into the door. The house was still knocked around and ruined since he last came and had his breakdown, making Jughead get chills. You knew something was bothering him, so you walked over and held onto his arm.

“Hey Juggie, are you okay?” You asked him, looking up into his green eyes with your (E/C) ones. He sighed deeply, taking off his familiar crown-shaped beanie and throwing it to the ground.

“I don’t know, I mean… I’m not feeling it. This place just reminds me of him, y’know. This may be my last time ever coming here, (Y/N), since I have no idea how long my dad will be in jail for and I’ll be living with my foster family.” He brushed a hand through his hair as he explained to her the situation. He sat down on FP’s couch, holding his face in his hands as shortly after, you joined him.

“H-Hey, Jug? Since this may be the last time I talk to you for a while, God knows how long, I just wanted to get something straight. Since we kissed at Sweetwater River that one night, I literally have not stopped thinking about you. I’ve had this feeling about you for, I don’t know, months now. You make me so happy every time I see you and it makes me smile knowing that you actually acknowledge me. I guess,” (Y/N) paused. “I guess I love you, Jughead. I love you, Jughead Jones.”  You finally admitted. He stared at you, before you noticed his lips creep up into a smile as he scooted over to you, placing his hand on yours as he stroked his thumb against your soft skin.

“I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” He smirked at you, making you bite your lip. And just like that, you found your lips back on his once again. The familiar sensation running through your body sent tingles down your spine as it did for him as well. He moved his hand from yours to your left cheek as the kiss deepened. You felt yourself smile in the kiss as your tongues intertwined.

As the two of you both pulled away, he smirked leaning over and pulling you onto his lap and kissed you passionately once again in his arms. You pulled his face against yours again connecting each others lips. He moved his hands to grip onto your shirt clinging at your waist as your tugged on his hair. A small groan escaped his lips, easily turning him on. He then picked you up, pushing your back against a wall as he held you up, quickly after attaching his swollen lips back at (Y/N)’s matching ones. As you tipped your head back, he kissed his way down to your neck, nibbling against your collarbone making a moan escape your lips. In the middle of leaving his mark against your burning skin until a loud knock interrupted your heavy moment, breaking up the intense moment. Jughead quickly put you down as he fixed his clothes, walking towards the door and opening it.

As (Y/N) waited for him to be finished, she quickly stood up pulling her jacket over her body as she waited behind the door to find a returning Jughead, holding his fathers Serpent jacket. He shut the door, staring down at it.

“Is it your dad’s?” You asked in curiosity. Jughead simple just nodded, still scanning his eyes over the embroidery stitched into its leather.

“Should I?” He turned his gaze to settle on her, wondering if he was to wear it. “The Serpents dropped by and gave me it. They have my back, (Y/N), does that make me one too?”

“Jug, if you want to join The Serpents that doesn’t make you a bad guy. Stop worrying, at least try on the jacket!” She gushed over him, leaning against the wall as she watched him.

Jughead stared down at the jacket, taking in it’s final details before slipping it onto his broad arms, turning to look at a mirror as he adjusted it, a smirk falling onto his lips as he turned back to look at you. “So, how do I look?”

(Y/N) smirked, taking herself off the wall as she bit her lip, strutting over to him.

“I’m loving this bad boy Jughead Jones, hopefully I get to see him more often. Come here.” She smirked back at him, pulling him to her by his jacket and leaned up to finish where they left off.

A/N — So this didn’t exactly fit the request, so hopefully this can be a part 2 sometime when I get some time to write it where the reader pulls him around by his jacket because it’s so hOt. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this imagine although I rushed the fuck through it so please don’t mind me.

Professor

In which Andrew didn’t choose Exy but still chose Neil, which meant Neil had to learn how to talk about something other than stick-ball. 

warning, mention of implied sexual assault/non-con


Lucy had not anticipated what she was dealt. 

Her first day of second year brought a tone of finality to it all: it wasn’t just a year-long dream of terrible decisions and alcohol and chaos. It continued on, and so would she. 

Her first day also happened to bring Professor Andrew Minyard, five feet and blond and utterly terrifying. 

Introducing the course had started off mundane enough, until Eddie Court – an asshole she’d regretted sleeping with dearly – decided to lean over her shoulder. He never got the chance to say anything because a pencil dotted him squarely in his forehead, so hard that a tiny droplet of blood threatened to bead. 

Everyone stared. Shocked, confused, but remaining in complete silence as they  – Lucy included – tried to remember if anyone had mentioned anything about the man, whether or not this was normal or out-of-the-ordinary behaviour. 

“Name.” He sounded bored. 

Eddie rose his fingers to brush his forehead, smearing the tiniest of droplets. He stared at his fingertips, then at Minyard, then at the pencil that had clattered on his desk. Then at Minyard again. “Eddie Court.”

“Court. Christ.” The professor said, with a palpable distaste to his tone. “I will say this once, despite having to repeat it every year, because students seem to get thicker with every new class.” His face was blank. Stone. Lucy had never heard someone utter insults with such apathy. She didn’t know whether or not to be scared or curious: Such a mask was difficult to maintain. “Shut the fuck up, or get the fuck out. Understood?”

Swearing in class. At the students. Completely against protocol. 

Lucy couldn’t help but smile. Just a little. 


Within weeks, the class had learned how to abide by Professor Minyard’s rules. His previous students were sought out, but they merely grinned at the mention of his name. One student dared to ask another law professor, questioning the teaching methods of the criminology expert. They shook their head, leaning to the professor next to them and sharing a laugh, an inside joke that none of the second years were a part of. 

Yet. 

Curiosity won out over fear eventually, and what that said about Lucy, she wasn’t sure. Eventually, he won her respect: The piece of white chalk he’d flung had imbedded itself in her tightly curled hair when she’d fallen asleep at the eight AM lecture on a Tuesday morning. 

“You think I want to be here, Rone?” 

That piece of chalk rested on her bedside table. Lucy didn’t want to be weird, especially considering her professor hadn’t played Exy since college, but he’d played with Neil Josten and Kevin Day. The Neil Josten, and the Kevin Day. And if she had spent nights watching old Palmetto State Fox games, sitting in awe as she watched him flick balls away from the goal like it was absolutely nothing, no one was going to know. 

He was just as apathetic as he had been back then. Lucy had decided he was just emotionless: That didn’t make him any worse at teaching, so it wasn’t really her problem. 

And then she became his problem. 


Her grades had dropped dramatically low. Andrew stared at the results that he’d just drawn up, picked the paper up off the desk, and leaned back in his chair. 

It was a midterm. He’d eyed Lucy Rone’s bad results in the past two mini-quizzes, her surprisingly worsening attendance, and this was enough to force his hand. 

Half an hour later, he was convinced this was abnormal behaviour, if her patterns rang true. 

Caring, caring. Perhaps the internal monologue would never leave him alone, but he knew better than to listen to it’s mocking tone. Watch yourself turn into Wymack, why don’t you. Call Dan and say you’re taking over as coach of the Foxes. 

He almost told himself to shut up, but the chime of his phone snapped him out of his head. It kept chiming and he sighed, picking it up and wedging it between his shoulder and ear, returning to stare at the mark scrawled in the corner of the exam paper. 

“Are you going to be here for dinner?”

“Not if you’re attempting to make something.” Neil had improved past the broke-college-student level of cooking skills, but he wasn’t apt enough to cook dinner without some form of disaster. 

It hadn’t taken long for Andrew to learn the sound of Neil grinning through the phone. A particular tone of voice, a particular exhale. “It’s already done. Just has to be heated up again.”

“Edible?”

“Can’t really be the judge of my own creation, can I?”

“I’ll be home soon.” Andrew liked the way his mouth curled around the word home.”Lucy Rone. Sound like someone problematic to you?”

“Not particularly. Lucy’s always been the name of that old woman sitting on the front porch, knitting. Five cats, crocheting and all.”

“So, you?”

“If old ladies swung heavy sticks at other people, sure.”

Andrew let himself smile. He allowed himself this. The small curl up on his lips. He’d earned that, after all this time. “Sure.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Unusually bad performance. Moved from sitting front and centre to back corner. Shit attendance.”

“You’re probably a much better judge of character than I would be, now.”

Because I’ve studied criminal, suspicious and victimised behaviour for a long time, Andrew wanted to remind him. But this was no longer a sore spot for Neil: He no longer needed to read people’s intentions in need to survive, because he was safe. He could let that overly-analytical part of himself behind. It had been almost 12 years since their first win against Edgar Allen. He was still alive, well. 

Happy, even. 

Hard to believe that was partly Andrew’s fault. 

Focus. 

Andrew emailed Lucy to visit him before their next class at nine o’clock the next morning. 


She was five minutes early, he was five minutes late. He couldn’t say anything about her appearance, considering he was wearing Neil’s jersey under his coat and that he had walked out of the door with a coffee, slippers and nothing to comb his hair with but his fingers. 

His students knew not to say anything. 

Lucy sported a pair of sweats that had her high school’s initials printed on the front, with a pair of exy sticks embroidered just underneath. Her name was printed on the back pocket, and they only just came down to her ankles. 

Exy fan, then. Andrew wouldn’t have guessed. 

She didn’t say anything, sparing him a hollow looking before following him into his office. He’d used to share it, until he’d bribed the finicky financial law to move somewhere else. It was entirely his own space, clean and devoid of decoration. 

He motioned towards the desk and she leaned against it, clutching the binder to her chest. 

Brown skin didn’t usually lose this much of it’s valour, even during winter. 

And winters in South Carolina were hardly anything worth mentioning. 

“Your grades.”

She was staring at the floor. Her eyes didn’t move when she nodded. 

“All I need is a reason.” 

She said nothing. 

“It’d probably be easier on you if you told me. I’m your criminology professor: I’ll find out eventually.”

“I’m not on drugs.” She said, quickly, but not so quickly that it was an immediate red flag. An orange flag. Andrew settled back into his seat and propped his ankle on his knee. 

“Never said you were.”

“I’m fine.” 

Andrew gave her a flat look. “You know who also says that?”

She shook her head. 

“Surely someone who still wears her high school’s exy uniform would have an inkling. Yay-high, hair like a fire-engine siren, mouth like one too.”

Her eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to ask if he knows that you wear his old Palmetto jersey. I thought he hated you?”

“I hated him.” Andrew corrected her. “I hate him.” He corrected himself. “And he knows.”

She looked wistful. “Cool.” 

“Lucy.”

She looked back at him. 

“If there’s a problem, you come to me. Alright?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because you can trust me. I can be a lawyer, a therapist, an advice column, what have you.”

“Can I trust you?”

“When you’re ready to.” 

She seemed satisfied enough to nod, murmur a timid thank you, and slipped out the door. 


Lucy banged on the door, feeling sick. She couldn’t go back to her dorm, because it made her want to crawl into a corner and be enveloped in a shadow. To be the smallest, most insignificant thing. 

She wasn’t sure how on earth her criminology professor was supposed to empathise with her, when he was the human embodiment of a brick wall, but here she was, trembling, feverish, panicked, and knocking on his office door at ten o’clock at night. 

He opened the door with a mildly annoyed expression, which flattened out immediately at the sight of her. 

She’d only seen him this morning, but that felt like a whole world away now. 

“Hello.”

She wanted to ask why he was still here, on campus, this late at night. What on earth he could possibly be working on, at ten o’clock on a Tuesday evening. Instead, she blurted: “What does it mean if I didn’t say no?”

He stilled. 

Too much, too much, too much: She had asked too much of him, a middle aged professor who apparently had two cats and a boyfriend, if the senior’s rumours were true. Criminology professor aside, this was the last thing someone like him would want to be dragged into –

He stood aside and motioned for her to come in. She shuffled by him, arms around her stomach. He shut the door. 

Lucy wanted to be sick. 

He pulled a pen out of his pocket – professors always had pens on them, didn’t they? – and tore a corner off a piece of paper, scribbling down a phone number. 

“This woman helped me.” Betsy. “She can help you, too.”

“You said you could be a therapist.” Lucy hedged. 

He sighed, and she’d never seen him so reflective. “I have my limits.”

She nodded. She took the piece of paper. She left. 


“Where the fuck is Court?” Andrew leaned on the edge of his desk at the front of the lecture hall, eyeing the empty seat. Second lesson in a row. 

Lucy Rone sat in front of it, back straight, gaze steady. 

“Suspended.” 

Andrew looked at her. “For how long?”

There was a hesitant smile. “Undetermined. Charges have been pressed against him.” 

Andrew drew a long line through Eddie Court’s name on the attendance.


Lucy waited by the door and saw her professor approaching, with the stack of papers in his hands. She was anxious about this mark, more-so than the others. Her dip in performance would be hard to get back up from, but if she could do it in criminology, she could do it in the rest. There was a cluster of students waiting to get their essay’s grade back, but Lucy was first in line. 

“Yay or nay?” She asked. 

Professor Minyard gave Lucy a flat look, and opened the door. 

Lucy promptly had a heart attack at the man beyond the door. 

“Feet. Off.” Her professor said, looking flatly at Neil Josten, with his feet propped up on the desk, arms folded. He, too, was wearing a faded jersey of the Palmetto Foxes’ colours, but it was too bunched up for Lucy to read the name. 

“Surprise.” Neil Josten said, and Lucy wanted to scream. 

“Get your fucking feet off my fucking desk.” Her professor dropped the large stack of papers next to where Neil Josten had propped up his heavy boots. Neil did not get his fucking feet off the fucking desk. 

Lucy almost had the nerve to scream: do you know who that is? Do you have any clue how famous he was? But she remembered that the two of them were friends. Sort of. She held her tongue, and let her heart thrum in her chest, happy to be completely ignored. 

“Leave.” Professor Minyard flicked Neil in the temple. 

Neil smiled. Neil Josten smiled. 

Lucy was having heart palpitations. 

He slowly drew his feet away from the desk to stand, still smiling. “Have a nice day.”

“You weren’t meant to be here till tomorrow evening, Josten. Explain.”

“You’re busy. Later.”

Lucy watched her professor’s arm reach out to brush along Neil Josten’s forearm as he slid past, and there was a startlingly foreign crinkle of warmth in his eyes. 

The back of Neil’s Palmetto jersey read Minyard. A thin platinum ring, identical to the one her professor wore around his neck, clacked against the doorknob as he pushed it open. She remember her professor occasionally wearing Josten. 

There was a startling curve of her professor’s lips, an almost smile that made him look almost human. 

Neil grinned before slipping out the door. 

Oh, Lucy thought, and then she said it aloud. 

Her professor turned on her, pointing. “If you dare to ask me for a single autograph, I will fail you.” 

Lucy was still smiling. 

“If any word about this gets out, I will fail you.” He warned. 

“Are you married?” Lucy laughed. 

His face was stone. 

“Holy shit. Professor Josten-Minyard. Two cats and a husband.”

“It’s Minyard-Josten.” He said coldly. “Get out.” 

Lucy got out.


By the next class, everyone knew, despite Lucy not breathing a word. Which meant the entirety of Neil Josten’s personal but still public Instagram account displayed his home life. But that was none of his student’s – or anyone’s– business. 

And if Neil started coming in with breakfast on those Tuesday morning lectures during his off season, that was none of their business either. 

yondadudonta  asked:

TALK STARKQUILL TO ME I NEED

Their meeting was a little less meet-cute and a little more,,, meet-ugly sort of thing.


Mainly because they both read the situation very badly and ended up trying to kill one another. Completely accidentally, but.

Still.

And really, can you blame Tony? Their ship does crash-land in the middle of a crowded highway, and barely manages to avoid civilians. Then they pop out, and they’re armed to the teeth, looking pretty threatening and…well… alien.

People end up calling (what’s left of) the Avengers- which happens, at the time, to be Tony and Tony alone.

Except the Guardians crashed in Florida; when Tony got the call he was in New Orleans at a science convention, and the suit was still in New York.

But he went anyway. Suit or no suit, he had to try. He was the only line of defence now, after… everything.

So, armed with a sophisticated watch-gauntlet and a gun he always kept tucked in his jacket pocket, he takes the jet and leaves to try and stop them from potentially, y’know, annihilating the world or whatever.


Except things don’t really happen like that, in the end.


“Listen, what are the chances you’re gonna do as I say when I order you to drop your weapons and leave?” tony asks wearily, as he holds the gun at the biggest guy’s weirdly patterned face and the gauntlet at the woman holding the largest gun he’s ever seen in his life. He doesn’t even bat an eyelid toward the talking walking raccoon or… the tree…thing.

Just another day in the life, at this point.

Although it would be kinda embarrassing if he ends up getting murdered by the raccoon. What the damn hell would they put on his grave? Here lies Tony Stark- saved New York, but unable to protect himself from the dangers of the Mighty Raccoon?

As soon as he’d spoken, about 13 different weapons were pointed in his face. Which hardly made sense, considering there were five of them and they all only had two hands. But whatever.

“How’s about we ask you the same? Except more forcefully, considering we got all the guns,” the raccoon said.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Where the fuck would I go then, what with me being a human being who lives here? Just fling myself into the void of space? And yes, tempting as that might sound, I’ve been there done that. Not as appealing as I would have thought, to be honest.” 

The five stared at him in confusion for a moment, before what looked to be the only actual human stepped forward, head cocked. His eyes were bright and beard scruffy- Tony thought it suited him.

Tony also thought he should probably focus on the task at hand, and his ever-growing chances of imminent death, rather than how pretty his opponent was.

“You’re just a human, huh?” Hot Scruffy Man asked.

Tony raised an eyebrow, and then pointed the gun at him when he took another step. “What gave it away? The fact that I have the same composition and structure as every other human on the planet? The fact I look just like you, who is also a human?”

“Half human,”

“What was the other half, pure asshole?”

“Actually… kinda, yeah.” The Hot Scruffy Man paused, and then shrugged. “Daddy issues.”

Tony had a brief moment to wonder what the fuck he was doing before an involuntary snort of laughter had escaped out of him. “Yeah- rode that train before, buddy- still doesn’t explain why you’re on the planet I protect, waving your guns around at innocent people and causing millions of dollars worth in property damage.”

The team in front of him paused, and then the man looked back at the green lady, who just shrugged and put down her gun. “We were told there was an imminent threat to your planet. We were in the neighbourhood, so we thought we’d come save you.”

Tony stared at them, contemplating. “Where are your sources from?”

“The fine NovaCorps,” Massive Bulked Alien Dude spoke up.

Tony squinted, running a hand across his forehead. “Am I… supposed to know what that means?”

“Fancy space police,” Raccoon told him.

“You seen any apocalyptic aliens round here lately?” Hot scruffy Man asked him again, slightly confused now. 

Tony just sighed. “Nope. And if there were, I would handle them. You can go back…wherever you came from, guys, it’s fine, Earth is fine-“

“You? You’re gonna protect the Earth? With your fancy little handgun and hand-firey thing?” The Raccoon laughed, and Tony scowled.

Luckily, because he had been counting the seconds in his head since he’d called it, he knew he was about to do something really badass, and it wiped the scowl off his face, replacing it with a little smile as he stared at the stupid talking Raccoon. 

“No,” he said, shrugging as he heard the familiar whirring sound of metal moving at hundreds of miles an hour up ahead of him.

The aliens looked up, one of them pointing their gun at the source of noise, like it would do anything. But in the space of a few seconds, it had already reached its intended target, slowing down just enough to not vaporise his body and wrapping around him, every piece fitting in a way that made Tony want to give himself a round of applause.


“I’m gonna protect Earth with this,” he said, raising his two repulsors and loading them right in the Raccoon’s little face.


There was complete silence for a second, before Hot Scruffy Man made a noise that should really, for the sake of Tony’s sanity, be kept in the bedroom. “That was literally the coolest and most attractive thing I have ever seen ever. In my life.”

Tony couldn’t help himself; he smirked and cocked his head Hot scruffy Man. “Sweetie, I appreciate the sentiment, but you’re gonna have to keep it in your pants until we can sort this out.”

Green Lady sighed, and walked forward to smack Hot Scruffy Man around the back of the head. “You know what we talked about, Peter- no flirting with potential targets. It’s in bad form.”

“This guy certainly hasn’t got a bad form,” Hot Scruffy Man- Peter- nodded over to Tony and smirked.

Green Lady sighed, and then turned to Tony. “Listen. You want to protect your planet. We want to protect your planet. How about rather than pointing our weapons at one another, we try and… you know, do what we set out to do?”

Instantly, the smile slide off Tony’s face, not that any of them could tell behind the faceplate. “I work alone. Sorry. You’re gonna have to l-“


And that was when the world sort of exploded around them.


Without even thinking about it, Tony shot forward and wrapped his arms around the two closest to him- the Green Lady and Peter- rolling them to the ground and hoping that the rest of his team, especially the more flammable ones, were okay. Green Lady yelled at the sudden-ness of his approach, but Peter just sighed. “Here we go,” he muttered into Tony’s shoulder.

Tony was inclined to agree, there.




Half-way through the battle, Peter AKA Starlord AKA Galaxy’s Number One Asshole asked him out.

Tony looked at him for a good four seconds before he got tackled to the ground by… (Dracula? Dracker? He was having to learn the names on the go, and his mind was currently on other, more explosion-based things) the Massive Bulked Alien Dude.

“THAT IS VERY UNPROFFESSIONAL, PETER!” He yelled, before looking down at Tony. “Are you well? I thought you may have been hit with a paralytic beam of some sort.”

Tony nodded, and then sat up. “No paralytic. Just your team-mate.”

Massive Bulked Alien Dude nodded wisely. “He does tend to have that affect on people.”

“What? Endangering their goddamn lives on the field?”

Massive Bulked Alien Dude paused, and then shrugged as he rolled off Tony. “I was going to say rendering people speechless with his idiocy, but that too.”

“Hey, that’s not fair, I’m actually clever, Tony, I promise! Boyfriend material, right here!” Peter yelled across the battlefield, looking over to them and grinning as he shot an alien in the back of the head without even looking.

“You’re a god damn alien!” tony yelled back exasperatedly, trying to keep the smile off his face as he jumped high into the air and then landed on an unfortunate opponent.

“Yeah- think of all the new tricks I must know, then,” Peter countered, winking as he dived behind a car and then threw what must have been a fancy bomb over the bonnet.

Tony’s mind briefly short-circuited at that (Holy mother of God) astute observation- but he quickly regrouped and fired a repulsor at an alien attempting to sneak up behind Rocket. “I’m gonna need a few examples before I agree to anything, sweetie,” he replied.

Peter laughed and opened his mouth, but then the Tree hit him over the head. “Ow!” he complained, looking betrayed.

“I have enough issues dealing with one distracted team-member whilst in the middle of a battle, I will not be dealing with two! Cut the flirting out!” Gamora yelled, as Tony watched her utterly destroy two different aliens at once.

“She thinks we should be ‘professionals’ and ‘focus on the mission’ when we’re in battle,” Peter said grumpily, wiping a cut across his face and then shrugging. “I respectfully disagree.”

Tony had to cut the conversation short again in order to swoop up and laser his way into the main hull of the ship that loomed barely even twenty meters over the battlefield, but he still had the team in the comm that FRIDAY had patched him into. “So what about Monday? You sticking around until then?” He asked.

Rocket swore at them down the line, but Peter just laughed. “For you, baby, of course I am.”

“Good. I’ve got a meeting with… let’s call him an ex. Be nice to have an excuse to blow him off.”

Peter whistled, “Oooh, want me to sweep you off your feet and declare battle with him for hurting you? I’m always up for it.”

“Much as I would like to see that, he’s kind of peak physical perfection. Plus I’d rather just make out with you,” Tony admitted.

“That’s fair. I want to make out with me too.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yep- welcome to the Guardians- we’re all assholes here. You’ll fit right in,” Peter told him.

“I am GROOT!” Came a rumbling voice that Tony could hear even off the comms, and he looked down in time to watch the tree grab Peter around the wait and haul him, flinging him up in to the sky with a yell.

It was a perfect throw, to be fair to Groot. Peter’s momentum cut out just as he was level with Tony, who grabbed his shoulders and lifted his faceplate, just for a second, in time for Peter to plant one on his mouth with a grin and a raised eyebrow, before he began falling again, right into Groot’s waiting arms.


Through the comm, Gamora just sighed. “Idiots. All of you.”

A Lesson in Love (Emergency)

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: 3,048

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - thank you, as always, for editing this for me.

Originally posted by charlestonchewbacca

The thought of what it must feel like to be an astronaut has crossed your mind on countless occasions, thanks to the astronomy class you’re currently taking. How does it feel to be that detached from the place you call home? To see the earth floating in the never-ending expanse that is space? To know that there’s a whole world of people residing on that large green and blue planet, but having no way to reach out to them?

Unexpected circumstances have transformed you into the astronaut that you never thought you’d have the chance to be. The news that Bucky is in the hospital, his condition unknown, has acted like a spaceship, catapulting you out of the atmosphere. It’s left you hurdling through space, unable to reach out to anyone, no matter how hard you try. T’Challa and Sam are calling out to you, but you can’t hear them. They’re far away, too far away, waiting on earth while you continue your journey. One without any gravity to keep you from floating away.

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Stress Relief (M)

video credits: sweaterpawsjimin

gif created by: Admin Smuttyfairy

Summary: When it’s been awhile since you’ve paid a visit to Mr. CEO Kim Taehyung’s office for help in his relief of stress. c;

Genre: saaa-mutttttt

Keywords: rough sex, dirty talk, begging, teasing, orgasm denial(ish)??, spanking c:

Word Count: 4028

Written by: Admin Smuttyfairy

A/N: I tried :D…anyway, I started on this last summer and completely forgot about it until I was scrolling through my google doc files. I started working on it again so here’s the finished product (again, i tried :D)!

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