if you are awake like this and i will follow you

Reaction: Leaving for tour (BAP)

Yongguk: Your boyfriend shakes you awake with an apology on his lips as he kisses your forehead. The sun isn’t even up and normally you’d be growling out complaints at being forced awake, but it isn’t a normal day. Instead, you cling to him savoring the warmth between the two of you. “I’ll miss you,” you mumble against his chest. “I know, I’ll miss you too but I promise I’ll call.” You know he will. The two of you lay like that, swapping touches and kisses, until his manager calls. You follow him to the door to see him off and he gives you a lingering kiss before he goes.

Originally posted by missbaptan

Himchan: You’re pouting, it’s hard not to when you know he’s leaving soon. It’s not intentional, but you’re going to miss him. His hand wraps around your waist as he pulls you close to him. “Don’t be like that,” he warns before his fingers dance against your ticklish ribs. Then you’re laughing. “See, that’s much better, you should always be smiling,” he tells you. So, you smile, a little sad but that’s okay because it mirrors his.

Originally posted by bapstime

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Dear readers,

I tried to make this brief, but I think I failed.

Today on Twitter and Tumblr, I posted about piracy and the effect it had had on the publishing side of the Raven Cycle. Several readers lashed out at me and asked why I did not merely release an 11,000 word story for free if the publisher had decided not to release it — further, they noted, other “big name authors” released “loads” of free content and since I didn’t release “loads” of things for free, surely this meant I just was in it for the money.

I don’t have a lot to add to the piracy commentary that is already up, other than the fate of the Raven Cycle and all its extras are up to my U.S. publisher and so therefore the discussion is weighted toward U.S. buyers. 

And I’m not going to speak to the giving away art for free business. The internet has discussed this a lot already, and the fact is that if you take away a paying-for-art model, you end up only getting art from people who can afford to work in their spare time or art that is supported by patrons — both models that we have seen before, both models that end up giving you art produced by and for a homogenous and upper class group. So moving on.

What I will speak to is the “loads” of free content business, because I haven’t addressed this before. I know there are authors who do release loads of free content. Stories of all lengths. Still other authors release loads of extra content available for a low cost, stories and novellas, etc. I can very much see how this is thrilling to readers. However, this will never be me, for four reasons:

1. I am bad at thinking episodically. I think of my novels in novel-shape, and it is difficult for me to think of stories that do not exist within that plotline. Just write Gansey and Blue going grocery shopping, urge readers, but I can’t think of how to make that into a satisfying story shape that will not diminish the original novels, introduce world-building that I will later regret, and be satisfying in one sitting. So ideas come to me very rarely that fit the idea of an extra. 

2. My deleted scenes are 99% bad versions of scenes that exist in the novel. They are not me deciding to cut a scene of Gansey and Blue going grocery shopping. They are me trying five different settings for the same conversation. They’re not extra, they’re less. 

3. I have always been a slow or at least very exclusive writer. I have a year between books and it takes me all of that time to write them, to think about them, to conceptualize them. I hear about some writers who write their contracted novels and then, in addition, write 10,000 word fanfics. HOW. I am not that person. If I try to write any faster, or write two things at the same time, all that happens is that I have to delete bad words twice as often, or end up writing the same story with two different titles. 

4. I am even slower now. I had not posted about my health crisis, because I didn’t want to be that person who talked about their gout at a party, but here it is. Folks who follow me on the internet may have noticed over the past several years that I was posting with increasing frequency about migraines and brain fog. In June, I grew rapidly ill at a seminar and collapsed (I think there’s still a photo of me lying on pavement behind the scenes). I had to be shipped home, canceled a tour for the first time ever, and then spent several weeks trying to get better. I did, sort of — but even weeks later, I wasn’t really better. I had hives all over my body. My hair was falling out. I was weirdly missing abstract thought — some days I could remember my home address, but I couldn’t say it out loud. I also couldn’t stay awake. I had to sleep every four hours, and every time I ate food, I got even more tired. And when I did sleep, it wasn’t real sleep. A drugged, enchanted, dreamless, sick sleep. There are photos all over the internet of me pulled over by the side of the interstate to sleep because when a reaction hit, there was no option. There is also a photo of my crumpled Mitsubishi that happened when I was too tired to avoid the tractor trailer that ran into me on the highway. I should’ve realized sooner that I was having an immune reaction, but it snuck up slowly. Bloodwork ruled out cancer and lupus, but showed that I had no immune system left whatsoever. Since then, I’ve been on a low-histamine diet of about six foods (hence the photographs of the groceries I carry with me on tour) and I’ve slowly become brighter and more like the self I remember from way back when, 2015 self. I can write again, without words looking like foreign intruders on the page. Migraines have vanished. I still have to be incredibly cautious — every time my body is exposed to or creates histamines (dog hair! limes! plane travel!), it still produces hives or puts me into an instant drugged sleep. But I’m getting better. I just can’t do anything stupid. I also just can’t write fast. I will do anything to keep from going back to June 2017 Maggie. 

All of this is to say that I wish I could be one of those authors that could surprise and delight with extras. But for many reasons, I can’t be. I’m continually delighted that readers love my books, and I hope those will continue to be enough.

urs,

Stiefvater


eta: yes, that’s why you no longer see me with cookies. No flour, no eggs, no dairy. :(

Driving Miss Daisy

Star Wars’s Daisy Ridley and Adam Driver dish on the epic franchise and beyond in V Magazine.

“I had no sense of what I was getting into. No sense of what was really going to happen,” confesses Daisy Ridley of her first-ever role as Rey in 2015’s Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Currently, Ridley is on location in a remote forest a few hours outside of Montreal for Chaos Walking, a 2019 sci-fi release costarring Tom Holland. But it’s this December’s Star Wars: The Last Jedi, the follow-up to The Force Awakens, that is shining a blinding light-saber-tinged spotlight on Ridley. The Force Awakens was the first movie since 1997’s Titanic to sell more than 100 million tickets in the U.S. 

It isn’t typical for a young actress’s breakthrough film to have the biggest domestic opening weekend in history, raking in $238 million, but Ridley isn’t all that typical herself. As the face of the nearly $10 billion franchise, Ridley has ushered in a new era of Star Wars. Following Carrie Fisher’s untimely passing last year, Ridley’s character, a fiercely independent heroine, serves as a particularly strong female voice in a galaxy far, far away. However, a far- flung galaxy isn’t Ridley’s only on-screen locale this season. 

In November, Ridley appears opposite Johnny Depp and an all-star cast in Kenneth Branagh’s Murder on the Orient Express. The suspenseful tale follows 13 passengers, played by the likes of Penélope Cruz, Judi Dench, and Willem Dafoe, stranded on an opulent passenger train with a murderer on the loose. Aside from blockbuster films, Ridley also produced and narrated the documentary The Eagle Huntress, which follows a teenage girl in the mountains of Mongolia as she becomes the first female eagle huntress in the sport’s 2,000-year history. 

Ahead of The Last Jedi’s release, Ridley catches up with her Star Wars costar (and “bestie”), Adam Driver. 


Daisy Ridley Hey Adam, it’s been so long.

Adam Driver Hey Daisy, how are you? When is the last time that I saw you?

DR Well, I don’t know because you don’t come to all the fun things that I go to. [laughs] Last July? It’s been like a year!

AD Oh, yeah, I guess. I’m much taller now.

DR How has your life changed? [laughs]

AD Oh, just in little ways. So, where are you now?

DR I’m in Canada, two hours outside of Montreal in these creepy woods. We feel like we’re going to be killed at any moment in this cabin. We’re shooting a film, Chaos Walking, with Doug Liman, Tom Holland, and Demián Bichir. It’s fucking cool.

AD Did you guys have time to meet each other before? Or did you just kind of jump right in?

DR I had met Tom Holland twice very briefly—for, like, 30 seconds—and I had met Doug Liman once and we spoke a bit, but it was very much feet first, it was super quick.

AD So, is it hard for you to meet people and just kind of go? Or do you prefer it?

DR [laughs] I mean, as we discovered, Adam, we became besties last year, but we had met some years before. It really takes me a while to relax with people. I don’t think I’m very good at meeting people: I feel awfully uncomfortable. So, I find meeting people very stressful. But it gets easier, and I think I’m getting better at being okay with that, you know?

AD Yeah, you always seemed very open, but I feel the same as you. When I meet people, I don’t know how to small talk very well, so it’s always like two back-and-forths of like, “Hey, how are you? How’s the weather?” And then five seconds later, I’m like, “So, what’s your relationship like with your mother?” It always goes really deep really quickly.

DR [laughs] I think you’re really good at it.

AD Oh, thank you. So, this is about Star Wars: If Rey was a color…I’m kidding.

DR No, oh my God. [laughs]

AD What were your initial conversations with J.J. [Abrams] about your character? Did you know the character’s name was Rey?

Keep reading

The Last Jedi Trailer Breakdown

* Please note that the following breakdown contains some potential spoilers for the movie - they’re mostly based on inferences and rumours, but you probably want to skip this post entirely if you’re spoiler-averse. *

I’m exhausted (I woke up way too early to watch that trailer!), but I knew I couldn’t rest until I had done this. There is so much to unpack here, so you’ll have to excuse me for omitting some things (mainly space battles) and skimming over others. 

I’m sure I’m wrong with a good chunk of this, but this is all meant in good fun.

I hope you enjoy my first stab at breaking this baby down - if you think it can be improved or spot anything that needs to be corrected, please let me know.

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Daddy’s Little Girl

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: dont the title gives it away? it’s such a cliche, i cant lmao

Word Count: 2330

Warnings: nsfw af! daddy kink, thigh riding, dirty talk, unprotected sex (practice safe sex, y'all)

Author’s Note: old fic; i remember writing this, and i was shook™ at how much dirty it turned out to be lmaoo enjoy! and don’t forget to write back to me ;)

Masterlist Here 

Bucky Barnes is a light sleeper. The Super Soldier’s super ability to hear is one of the reasons why he wakes up with dark rims under his eyes for most of the mornings.

But ever since you both started sharing a bed, that habit of his was fading away. You’d make sure you were always snuggled up to him, giving him a sense of assurance that you’re here, with him. And then even the slightest noise stopped to disturb him

That was until tonight, when the sweet disturbance was caused by you.

You had your back pressed against his front. His face buried into your hair, as he smiled and inhaled your sweet shampoo. The metal arm wrapped around your waist as you both inhaled and exhaled together, almost as if you both had practiced it.

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The Secret Book Club

Originally posted by lokihiddleston

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Content/Warnings: Innuendos and a cheeky Loki and a very very shitty book. Also mild swears.

Words: 1767

Prompt: LOKI X READER WHO SHARE BOOKS AND READ TO EACHOTHER AND LOTS OF FLUFF HHH THAT WOULD BE SO CUTE PLEASE

Soooo this turned out much different than what I expected, (sorry anon I was having too much fun) but there is most definitely going to be a part 2 to this coming soon. At the request of a few people I’m starting a tag list, so if you want in then just shoot me a message! :)

Enjoy ;)

@mrsethedreamqueen@asometimestroubledmind

Part two
Part three
Part four
Part five
Part six
Part seven (NSFW)

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It’s something he was planning on saying all night but had been trying to hold in simultaneously. Now he says it, like breeze.

“Stay here tonight.”

Castiel turns around and looks at him. Dean thought he’d never see him again, but he’s back. Alive and real and Cas. Dean feels like he’s been constantly out of breath ever since Cas returned that morning, suddenly on the doorstep of Dean’s motel room.

Dean can’t quite seem to settle, unable to keep his eyes from Castiel. One moment, and he could fade.

“Why?” Castiel asks, curious more so than confused.

“Because,” Dean manages, “…because you’ve been gone, alright? You were dead, and we…. I thought we would never see you again. And I-” Dean’s voice falters. He walks over to Castiel and stands in front of him, his eyes gliding over his face. Every inch of him is real, solid, not like the dreams he’d been having. 

Sam and Dean had been getting separate rooms ever since Dean was awake for hours every night and just paced around the room aimlessly. When Dean slept, he’d been having dreams of Castiel being alive and he’d wake up and realize it wasn’t real. He’d rather not sleep than go through that every single night. But this, he wasn’t going to let this be a dream as well.

“Take off your coat, come on.” When Cas just frowns again, Dean does it himself. He slides the beige coat from Castiel’s shoulders and drapes it over the back of a chair.

“Dean, I’m fine with sleeping in the other motel room.”

“I’m not.” Dean rasps. “Please, Cas, don’t go.” Having Castiel around is worth sharing his emotions for. “Not again.”

Cas looks down. He looks different without his trench coat, more human. Maybe he is, in fact, a little more human. Castiel said he isn’t sure, and it’s how he’s been acting all day. Insecure. Dean can feel it whenever he looks at him, and that’s also what scares him.

“I’m sorry.” Castiel looks up to him. “I tried so hard, Dean, I tried so hard to live. For you, for Sam. I tried to stay with you and I failed.  I didn’t come back with a win for you.”

“Cas-” Dean grabs his shoulder, solid and real and warm. He looks in Castiel’s blue eyes and realizes how much he’d actually missed him. “Listen.” He begins unsteadily. “You coming back is a win for us, you hear me? You being here is enough.” Dean’s hand slides from Cas’ shoulder. “It’s all I wanted. And that’s why I want you to stay here tonight.”

“I don’t think I’m following.”

“Come on, Cas! What if you leave tonight and I come into your room tomorrow and you’re gone? What if something happens and you- you are gone for good? What if you die? What if- what if I can’t…” Dean curls his fingers into a fist. “What if I can’t let you go again?”

There’s something in Castiel’s eyes that change. It’s surprise, mostly, surprise and confusion and something Dean only recognizes from very few people in his life.

“The last thing I want is to leave another time,” Cas says. “And I- I understand now.”

Dean nods, suddenly empty where words should be, and swallows.

“Then stay. Come on, bed’s big enough.”

As Dean undresses in the darkness, with Castiel on the other side of the bed, Castiel suddenly speaks.

“Dean?”

Dean turns around, with his shirt almost off but still hanging on his neck and arm. He can’t see Cas’ face, but he can hear his breathing.   

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

tygermama  asked:

AU - The Jedi say "The Padawan Chooses The Master" Qui Gon lives, Obi Wan is very preoccupied, and Anakin is put into the creche as an Initiate to learn what he can until Qui Gon wakes up from his coma and gets yelled at by the Council. In the meantime, Anakin meets other Jedi Masters and when the Council asks him who he wants to be his teacher, his answer isn't Qui Gon. Instead it's *insert your fav Jedi here*

My Friend, I both hate you and love you for this prompt. Because I am so very very torn. But let me give it a go.

Naboo is a debacle. No one debates that. Qui-Gon Jinn comes back to the Temple barely alive, accompanied by his Padawan - the first Jedi in a millenia to have slain a Sith - and the powerful young boy they found on Tatooine.

At first they wait - while Obi-Wan Kenobi is considered more than deserving of Knighthood, they hold out hope that Qui-Gon will wake and perform the ceremony himself, and take Anakin on as he originally intended. It is not to be.

Obi-Wan is knighted and sent off on missions, Anakin remains in the creche - as Qui-Gon lives, it seems presumptuous to have any other Jedi take him on. But Qui-Gon may never wake, and so the more senior Masters take it upon themselves to get a feel for the too-powerful boy. Just in case.

Months later, Qui-Gon wakes.

He is in no shape to do anything more than argue with the council, but he is awake. Still, the matter of Anakin Skywalker is put off a little longer, until Qui-Gon is in a better position health wise. Besides, while he is not completely at ease in the ranks of the initiates, Skywalker has settled in somewhat - it will do no harm to wait a little longer. And it also gives some of them a bit more time to try an mitigate Jinn’s eventual bad influence.

A year after Naboo, the council requests the presence of Initiate Skywalker. The boy who faces them is so very similar and yet so very different from the child they interviewed a year earlier. Still far from emotionally balanced, but much less fearful. After all, by this stage he knows them all somewhat, and he has begun to accept that he is not going to be turned out - over the last year it has become very apparent that he cannot remain untrained, and as such the Creche Master had taken the time to explain the notion of a Padawan accepting a Master.

(They will never know how how much that notion affects Anakin. Because what slave chooses their own Master?)

And so they ask him. “Who would he choose as his Master?”

And Anakin is torn. Because this is a huge decision, and he knows it. Never before has he had the power to CHOOSE. He has to do this right. Qui-Gon Jinn freed him and brought him to the Temple. He is Anakin’s hero. It would make sense to accept him. And yet… What of the other Masters?

What about Master Billaba, who so patiently walked him through the First Forms when he worried about being so far behind his classmates? Or maybe Master Fisto, who laughs and smiles and pats him on the head and tells him not to worry, he will get the trick in time - has he considered a moving meditation, like this? Or even Master Windu, who is stern and forbidding, but UNDERSTANDS the anger that coils in his chest? And Master Koon - he’s kind and an absolutely WIZARD pilot. What should he do?

But Anakin Skywalker is a child of the Force. And all of the Masters he has encountered over the last year have told him the same thing. So he reaches out and…

The council watches as the boy raises his head and looks up at them with an unassailable sense of certainty. 

“I’m sorry Masters, but I can’t choose. Not yet. It’s not the right time.”

And it takes everything in him not to back down in the face of Qui-Gon’s sadness and the Council’s impatience, but Anakin stands firm.

The Force is speaking to him. Loud and clear.

“Not Now.”

In the end it is Yoda who breaks up the raucous arguments with a few firm taps of his gimmer stick. If the Force tells young Skywalker that now is not the time then so be it. The boy is still younger than the average new padawan, and still has some catching up to do. There is no hurry. Let him remain in the creche they shall, until the time is right.

And so they do. Except Anakin’s little demonstration along with the general increased interaction during Qui-Gon’s convalescence means that several of the Council members are seriously considering the merits of taking him on themselves. And Qui-Gon? He is determined to regain little Ani’s regard.

You can imagine the result. Anakin Skywalker becomes the envy of his classmates, as multiple senior masters court him to be their padawan. Plo Koon in particular seems to take great delight in tweaking Qui-Gon’s ire by allowing Anakin to learn to pilot the Temple ships, and Mace has spent a lot of time showing Anakin how to control his darker impulses. Kit sneaks him sweets but both he and Depa have the suspicion that they are not seriously in contention. Ironically all the attention has done wonders for his attachment issues.

Still, every time he is asked if he is ready to take a Master, Anakin will close his eyes and reach into the Force, before saying. “No. Not yet.”

Incidentally, his lack of Master has very much impeded the Chancellor’s efforts to spend time with the boy alone. After all, a Padawan is very different from an Initiate from a Jedi perspective - one is considered a semi-adult capable of assisting in basic mission duties while the other is not. The Chancellor may be their direct superior, but even he cannot order them to facilitate private audiences with a CHILD under their care. For now, he must make to with infrequent and supervised visits in which he must take care not to overstep the role of a genial man interested in the welfare of the child who saved his planet.

It infuriates him.

But anyway.

Time passes, and Anakin’s classmates start to dwindle, as they are either apprenticed (Anakin feels smug at having facilitated one of two of the matches - having Knights and Masters watching him keenly means he can try and push others in direction the Force suggests) or drawn towards alternate pathways. Anakin is nearing thirteen years of age, and he knows the time for a decision is coming soon.

But there are things he needs to make sure are in place first. Luckily, he knows who to speak to about that.

“Time then, it is, Young Skywalker?”

“Yes Master Yoda.”

“Hmm. Certain, you are?”

“Yes Master Yoda.”

“Good. Done well, you have, to follow the Force in this. Who is it, you have chosen?” 

Anakin tells him.

And the old Jedi starts cackling.

It is not long after that Anakin Skywalker stands before a large crowd of Knights and Masters (Because this? The apprenticeship of Initiate Skywalker? This is going to be the thing of temple legends and  NO ONE wants to miss out.) and asked who he would take as his master.

And Anakin Skywalker looks his choice straight in the eye as he speaks their name.

Obi-Wan Kenobi nearly faints there and then.

.

Let’s take a step back. 

When Obi-Wan Kenobi first accompanied his comatose Master back to the Temple, he had been consumed by their last conversation. The one in which he had promised Qui-Gon to train the boy. Except, those were obviously the words of a man who thought himself dying, and Qui-Gon still LIVED. When the council decides to put Anakin into the creche until things are more certain, Obi-Wan is so RELIEVED. Because while he would if he had to, Obi-Wan doesn’t feel READY to take a padawan just yet, not while he is still processing the end of his own apprenticeship, and Anakin is meant for Master Qui-Gon - Obi-Wan would never wish to steal that role while the possibility remains that the man will wake one day.

Still, he made a promise. And there are many ways to teach.

So Obi-Wan makes an effort to check in on Ani, make sure he’s settling in ok. It’s a big culture shock for the boy from Tatooine, and Obi-Wan does his best to help explain some of the things Temple raised initiates take for granted. Anakin’s  glee when he finally gets the hang of something is infectious, and Obi-Wan finds himself enjoying the time they spend together. 

When he starts taking missions as a Knight, Obi-Wan makes the effort to farewell Anakin every time he leaves, and if he can, brings him back some toy or trinket from wherever he ends up. Nothing major, but Anakin has often expressed his desire to visit every world in the galaxy one day, and he gets so excited even if all Obi-Wan has to show him is a rock he found while running for his life from upset dignitaries…

Obi-Wan thought his missions might be less exciting now he wasn’t partnered with the most infuriating diplomat in the Order. He was wrong.

When the Masters begin paying more attention to Anakin it is Obi-Wan he contacts for reassurance he is doing the right thing. After all he is listening to the Force, but what if he’s listening wrong? And Obi-Wan tells him he’s doing fine, to follow his instincts, and sorry he has to go now due to potential pirates, but maybe to take time with each of them to work out how well they connect, just in case the Force changes its mind? And it is Obi-Wan who tells him he should just confess about the incident with the door chimes, and reassures him that no one will hate him over the accident with the speeder. 

As time goes on, Obi-Wan becomes known in the Temple as the BEST source of information on the Skywalker Situation, because he has THE most up to date gossip on what Masters Jinn and Windu have decided to challenge each other with this time, or which Knight has decided to throw their hat into the ring most recently, only to find the kid too much to deal with. Obi-Wan finds himself feeling a little protective over Anakin, rolling his eyes at the latest stuff up on the part of Ani’s potential masters, and during one of his morning meditations he comes to the startling realisation that he is well and truly Attached to his young friend.

Well then.

So of course when it comes time for Anakin to make his final decision, Obi-Wan Kenobi puts on his best face and mentally tries to work out which master will have the honour of training the Chosen One. The selfish part of him hopes it’s not Qui-Gon. He adores his former Master, but time has convinced him that he would be a poor match for Anakin. And he wants what is best for the boy. 

Maybe once Anakin is safely matched to a Master of his own Obi-Wan might consider the merits of a Padawan himself. Certainly he is feeling a lot more confident in his skills that he was a few years earlier…

But then Anakin gives his name.

His.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

So many faces are turned to face them and he can feel them all asking “Why him?” and he doesnt have an answer and…

Anakin is looking at him. Waiting. For his response.

His heart gives him his answer, but he has to be SURE this is the boy’s decision.

“Why now Anakin?”

And Anakin smiles, bright and sure.

“Because you weren’t ready before.”

Oh.

Obi-Wan Kenobi laughs then, in joyous wonder and kneels to look the boy (his student!) in the eye.

“In that case, Anakin Skywalker, I would be honoured to be your Master, if you would agree to become my Padawan.”

And the Force sings.

~~~

I hope you’re not too disappointed! I was tempted to write a Plo Koon is Anakin’s Master AU, but in my heart of hearts, I just can’t keep the Team separated! :)

+

⇁ tessellate | 01

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

sequel to nudes, not flowers with more angst and more filth

pairing⇁Hoseok x Reader x Jungkook

genre⇁smut, slight angst || fuckboi!au

warnings⇁public indecency, cumplay, exhibitionism, rough sex, dom/sub undertones, dom!junghope, jealousy, mentions of infidelity, sex in front of a mirror, oh n light daddy kink 

word count⇁15k

“ Triangles are my favorite shape
Three points where two lines meet.” (tessellate)

Triangles are supposed to be the strongest and most stable of all geometric shapes. You wonder how true this statement is if applied to real life situations. The way you see it: triangles aren’t a reliable structure for relationships, especially if the parties you’re involved with find commitment to be a foreign concept. 

or : a fuckboy’s guide to polyamory 

start | 01

Keep reading

05. So Long

An AU where you and Harry are at university and the daily carpool turns into something more.

Warnings: AU Harry, smut, little fluff


           Every day.

           Every goddamn day.

           You had been best friends since you were young kids. For a while, it seemed that Harry would always be just a good friend, somewhat like a brother, a good mate. But that was it, nothing more.

           But then you got older. And you noticed that when he’d had a few his hand would linger on your hip a bit longer as he passed by, or he’d sling an arm around your shoulders and pull you close, talking lowly while his whiskey breath fanned over your face. You even noticed that when he was stone cold sober he stared at you a beat too long.

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BTS Scenario: Morning Sex Hyung line

Requested by anon: Can I request a BTS morning sex reaction?

I didn’t really see this as a reaction, so I put scenario instead. I hope you (anon) and everyone else likes it!

Here’s the maknae line!

Warnings: SMUT- the kind where you’re sitting next to someone but you want to read it so you cover your phone/kind of shield it away somehow and now that person is thinking, “oh, what’s s/he reading,” but in reality, they wouldn’t want to know. 


Kim Seokjin:

The sun had just begun to peak through the small slits between the curtains, when you felt something against your butt, and a pair of hands slide over your curves.

“Jin?” you mumbled, turning over to face him. “It’s early…”

“I’m sorry, y/n…” his low, raspy voice perks your senses, waking you up as your skin begins to tingle. Leaning down to kiss you, his long fingers danceed on your hips, making their way up your body and you let out a small mewl at the warmth of his body and sweetness of his lips.  “Mmm baby, why don’t we start the morning off really good?” he chuckled, flipping you onto your back and positioning himself between your legs and teasingly grinding against you. 

Keep reading

Cursed Child AU: insomniac additions.

Another thing (because yes we’re just going to go back to talking about the Cursed Child AU like we never left) that annoyed me about The Cursed Child was how the Adults treated Scorpius Malfoy in the text. 

Like I get it, nobody is perfect and everyone has issues, especially when you take into account the things the original trio endured. But, and this is a large but I cannot lie, I also feel it’s entirely out of character for Harry Potter, the boy who survived twice and lived to become the man who would name his second son after two of his arguably worst abusers* (after Voldie and the Dursleys of course) in recognition of their bravery and…whatever…redemption I guess, to only then turn around to his son, point to another child and say “they come from an evil family, don’t be friends with him”. 

It just…it doesn’t feel right.** 

Just like how Ron pitting his daughter against the Malfoy off-spring doesn’t feel right either. “Here sweetheart, we fought this entire war based on opposing those who thought they were better than others because of how they were born, and we made the world a better, more fair place. Now go kick that other kid’s ass his dad was a dick. Also don’t come home if you get sorted into Slytherin, bye honey loooove yoooou!”

Like….that is just not Ronald Weasley to me. It’s maybe Ron at the start of the series when we see him coming from a place of…not monetary privileged to be sure, but definitely perhaps cultural in terms of his bloodline? Like they might be dirt poor but the Weasley’s are a pure-blood family and that matters in this world. 

But it’s not who Ron is at the end of the series. 

It’s not who any of them are at the end of the series. Yet somehow we just see the continuation of “all adults are awful, yes even the good ones” and it just…it’s mediocre writing for one thing, but it’s also a continuation of validating shitty adult human behavior for Reasons, which Rowling is infamous for, and maybe it’s just me. But I’m tired of that shit.

I’m so, gods damned tired. Both as a reader, an editor and a writer.

Which is why I’d like you to consider: Cursed Child AU Molly Weasley meeting Scorpius Malfoy for the first time. 

In my head, for whatever reason, the new trio are soaked, just, drenched to the bone and guilty as hell, and Rose isn’t too worried by her grandmother’s stern look, she knows the shouting and the hand waving is from concern and not a threat. And Albus too, who has gotten into his own fair share of trouble with his brother and cousins and been on the receiving end of his Grandma’s tongue lashing more than once has just sort of, switched off, eyes glazed over as he takes the reprimand as he takes all others.

But Scorpius has no reference for this. His own mother and father have never disciplined him, not really, they’ve never had cause to. But he’s seen the fights between his father and grandfather, and people have walked away from those burned. He’s felt this anger before, this shrill frustration, but it’s never been directed at him before and honestly he’s not sure if he’s about to vomit or cry—until suddenly it stops. And when he looks up, Mrs. Weasley is looking at him, just for a second she’s looking just at him. And then she sighs, wiping a weary hand over her face as she waves them towards the stairs. 

“Go to bed, all of you. Albus, show your friend where everything is. We’ll deal with this in the morning.”

So they climb the stairs and say good night, and Albus lets Scorpius borrow some old but clean clothes from a chest at the end of a bed that looks like it hasn’t been slept in for years but is still kept pristine. And he feels like an intruder in this cramped wonderful space that feels lived in and loved from the ceiling to the floor. But Albus is already falling asleep face down on the other bed so he can’t ask if this is okay and instead just peels back the covers and falls asleep thinking if a house could feel like a hot cup of tea on a rainy Autumn day then the Burrow would be mid-October with two sugars and a ginger snap on the side.

The next morning he awakens to find his own clothes not just dried but cleaned and mended, folded at the end of the bed. Not wanting to wake Albus (snoring gently on his back, dark hair sticking out at all ends in a nice way that makes Scorpius’ stomach do a funny swooping thing he’s not ready to think about just yet) Scorpius creeps out of bed in search of the privy, somehow managing to get turned around in this tiny house that’s smaller than his grandfather’s study and finds himself on the threshold of the kitchen again, where a fire is already lit and something bubbles gently on the stove. He doesn’t mean to stare, but there’s just so much stuff, brick-a-brack and clutter his mother would never allow, mementos, moving pictures on every wall, the clock gently ticking on the wall…

“Cup of tea, dear?”

He jumps, feeling like he’s been caught somewhere he shouldn’t be.

“Come along dear, sit down,” Mrs Weasley continues, placing gentle hands on his shoulders and guiding him towards the kitchen table where the table is already set. “One lump or two?”

“I…” Scorpius stutters, looking around, desperately hoping for one of the other two to appear, even Rose who he knows only tolerates him because of Albus. “Two?” he asks. “Please?”

“There you are dear, help yourself to milk. Sleep all right?”

“I…uh, yes, thank you?”

“Good, good. Toast?”

“Uh…”

“There you go. Help yourself to butter and jam.”

He’s halfway through a second slice when Albus appears in the doorway, still in the rumpled clothes he’d slept in and yawning loudly until Rose pushes him out of the way and sits down heavily in the empty chair next to Scorpius, glaring, as though daring him to say something about her frazzled hair and the pillow markings on her sleep-pinked face. Scorpius wisely takes another bite of toast and pushes the teapot towards her. Albus stumbles over next, still so half asleep her nearly face plants into the jam the moment he’s sitting. It’s only the joint efforts of Rosie and Scorpius that keeps it from happening.

“What time is it?” he asks, rubbing blearily at his eyes. 

Scorpius glances to the clock—not the family one of course, though he can’t help but feel a little envious at just how many spoons it has. His parents have one, but it only has three hands.

“Time you were up and about,” Mrs Weasley comments before Scorpius can answer, swooping in over the table with a platter laden with breakfast food and dishing it out in heaps like she’s used to feeding an army. Glancing again at the family clock, Scorpius can see why. “And time to tell me what in Merlin’s Beard is going on.”

The trio glance between themselves, suddenly far more awake than they were mere moments before. With a mouthful of tea, Scorpius makes a hard swallow and braces himself.

“I’m really sorry, but this is entirely all my fault.” He starts when Mrs Weasley laughs, eyeing her two grandchildren with a knowing look.

“Somehow I find that hard to believe, dearie. Here have some more bacon.”

Somewhere between second, third and quite very nearly fourth helpings (Scorpius has never eaten so much in his life, not even at the Hogwarts feasts) they tell the truth. Or rather, they omit certain details and confess they found the car in the woods while having detention and wanted to see if it would work. How were they to know the doors would slam shut and the car would take them home. Molly Weasley listens quietly, with none of the previous shouting of yesterday, even when they recount the part about the doors falling off. Scorpius is relieved. He doesn’t think he could handle it, and he has no desire to see all that good food come up in reverse. 

“Well, I can’t say I’m pleased.” she says when they’re done, fixing them all with a pointed look. “But I am glad you are safe. Now, why don’t you go get ready and head on outside. The gnomes are in the herb patch again, and I need to contact the school and let them know you’re safe.“

The other two groan and slide out of their chairs to stomp up the stairs. Scorpius also stands and thinks about following them, but he’s already dressed so doesn’t see the point, he’ll just wait here by the door and go outside when they’re ready…he’s oddly excited by the prospect of de-gnoming the garden. He’s never done anything like it before…

“Everything all right, dear?” Mrs Weasley asks him, voice light as she clears away the breakfast table with a flick of her hand. “With school?”

He’s puzzled by the question, but he nods. “Yes, thank you Mrs Weasley.”

She hums politely, drawing her wand again and pulling over a scroll of parchment and a quill from a nearby table. “And what about home, everything all right there?”

The nausea is instant and for one horrible moment he thinks he might actually be sick. His mouth is watering, his head feels hot, his hands are cold and his eyes are blurring as he tries to quell the terror such a question brings because how, how can he answer a question like that while knowing the truth of what is yet to come...

He doesn’t even realize he’s sobbing until warm arms surround him. He’s been hugged before, but never like this. Everyone in his family is rail-thin and formally stiff. Physical affection often feels like an obligation to be endured, not warm and enveloping like sunlight through a glass pane on a cold winter morning. 

“There now dear,” she soothes, patting his back and holding him close like one of her own—a Potter or a Weasley, not a Malfoy. He doubts a Malfoy has ever been held this way. “I’m so sorry Scorpius. It’s not easy grieving…but you’ll be all right…it’ll be all right…shhh”

Later in the garden no one says anything. He knows they know, he can still feel the evidence of it streaked down his face, sniffling loudly in a way that has nothing to do with the chill Autumn air as they run after the scurrying gnomes. Instead they are stoically silent. But it’s a united sort of silence. Even Rosie looks grimly determined as she nods to him, just once, an unspoken version of the promise Albus had uttered in the small hours of the Slytherin Dungeon.

They have a curse to break. And it’s bloody well going to get broken.


(cut for foot notes)

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BTS scenarios: Cheering him up when he feels self-conscious

Originally posted by arkysal

Kim Seokjin/Jin

 There was something different about Jin that day. He wasn’t his usual bubbly self but quiet, almost invisible, ghost of Kim Seokjin. He didn’t try to make you laugh during breakfast when you were drinking tea. It worried you, but at the same time you didn’t want to be nosy. You knew damn well how easy it was to set him off when he was visibly stressed. Limited on choices you decided to wait for him to show signs that he wanted comfort from you.

 Good thing it was the day you tagged along for another show. You could watch Jin’s lack of interaction with other people. Every time somebody pointed that out he just laughed blaming his fatigue. Of course he was tired but neither you nor his bandmates believed it to be the reason behind his blank face.

 You stood by the wall, observing everyone move around. Minutes passed in a rush and your head started to spin at the thick atmosphere. Thankfully the stylist asked you to help Jin with his collar and tie. You walked close to him and instantly grabbed at the material with delicacy. While shifting the cables to his microphone you realized that Seokjin avoided looking at you. At first dark thoughts clouded your mind, but you pushed them aside with all your strength.

“Is the wire bothering you anywhere?” Although you let go of his collar, you stayed still in close proximity to him. 

 At the question he finally looked at you. Your eyes met for a short moment before his gaze moved somewhere to your right. He shook his head faintly without moving any other part of his body. You sighed and grabbed his shoulders to shake him a bit. Jin gave you a weird glance as he tried to pull out of your grip.

 Although it hurt, you didn’t let go of him. You were awkwardly struggling with each other for a longer moment until you decided it was really enough.

“Now, is it bothering you anywhere?” You asked once more. Again, he shook his head, but this time his eyes remained on you.

 You smiled faintly and tied his tie. When done, your index finger trailed up the fabric to stab his chin playfully. He was more confused than amused by your behavior yet he kept his mouth shut. Unfortunately for him you weren’t the one to give up on Jin.

“Oh, here’s a thing I forgot to give you!” You exclaimed after an idea formed in your brain.

 He observed your hand as you hid it in inside pocket of your jean jacket. You searched for a few seconds until you pulled out fingers shaped in heart. Your eyes were hungrily tracking his reaction.

 A quiet snort left his nostrils and Jin finally smiled for real at you. You returned a five times wider one and put the finger heart in the small pocket on his chest. The action had expected result. Your boyfriend relaxed enough to look you deep in the eyes. Encouraged by his positive response you dared to approach him close enough for you to lay your forearms on his chest. Your hands smoothed the material as you looked up from it with the gentlest expression you could make.

“I’m glad you accepted my heart.”

“It would be hard not to.”

“Did I tell you already that you look really handsome in that suit or was I screaming it in my mind this whole time?”

 His smile widened even more at that. His eyes moved down to look at his right hand that hung in the air. You grabbed it along with the left one without losing sight of his face and brought them up so you could kiss each one of his fingers. Jin’s eyes followed your lips hungrily taking in your adoration for his least favourite part of his body. When you finished his glance returned to meet yours. Jin let his hands hold your cheeks so he could kiss you properly. 

“Can you do one thing for me when on the stage?” You asked when he pulled away.

“Anything.” He smiled with pure adoration.

“When you’ll be singing your solo, can you take out the heart so I know you still have it? I want a close shot at you.”

 Jin gave you a weird glance but nodded lively.

Originally posted by yoongijae

Min Yoongi/Suga

 Yoongi disliked doing anything and it was a well-known fact. Not only you and his closest coworkers had an idea but also his fans were aware of that so-called hobby of his. That’s why you didn’t make a big deal out of his stay in bed. At least at first. You got worried when the bedroom door remained closed at 2 p.m. and frantic when nothing changed an hour later. Aware that he was probably hungry by that time, you prepared breakfast and decided to go to him. You tip toed to the doors and turned the doorknob carefully.

 It was weird to act this way in the middle of the day, but the dread that hid in you made you act carefully. Firstly, only your head leaned out. Room was dark as the curtains blocked the daylight. Still you could see Yoongi’s body resting under covers. You listened for a moment but when steady breathing didn’t reach your ears you risked walking inside. You moved to his side of bed and sat on it’s edge, centimeters from your boyfriend. Then you put kitchenware on his night stand and turned to him. He laid on his side facing wall on yours. Aware of how easily one could annoy half-asleep Yoongi you hesitated before laying fingers on his arm. You stroked it gently then leaned froward to look at his face.

 You were surprised to find him awake and shocked to see how puffy and red his face was. Dry paths of tears glistened on his cheeks and nose. If it wasn’t enough, his lower lip was bleeding probably from biting on it. Your other hand bushed his fringe to reveal his eyes, but he stubbornly kept them away from you. Through the whole process of you finding out about his miserable state he didn’t make a single movement to acknowledge your presence. Almost as if you weren’t there.

“Yoongi…” You whispered shaken by his state.

 He ignored you although he heard you for sure. A memory of his voice telling you to leave him alone resurfaced in your mind. But you weren’t able to leave him alone in his misery. He could lash out at you at any moment. Your mind kept repeating the same sentence over and over again yet your body was deaf to it. Carefully you changed position so your knee was touching his back while you could still look at his face.

 Afraid of his motionless state you called him again but more quiet. Once more he didn’t answer. His eyes remained glued to the wall on the other end of the room. You felt your own blood turn cold when his lids moved but he just blinked.

“I made you breakfast.” Your lips ghosted above his arm as you told him. “You must be hungry.”

 He remained as he was. You knew that you wouldn’t get more and moved up after kissing his skin softly. Your walk to the door was interrupted when you heard him finally move under covers. You turned around to find him staring back. His face was blank but you smiled nonetheless.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

 Yoongi let you leave him alone although he wanted you to stay with him. He needed your comforting words and warmth of your body to make him feel better. Yet he couldn’t find strength in himself to ask that of you. After a couple of minutes he looked to his left and grabbed the plate you left there. He knew that it had taken you a lot of time to prepare. Considering how pancakes were cut to resemble a head. Most likely his head. He judged from the pierced ears. Around the head laid rays of sunshine. The whole work looked like breakfast for a child not a grown-ass man like Yoongi. But he thought it was cute anyway and grabbed one of the stripes to bite it.

 He only realized that he was really hungry when he finished the whole plate. Aware of his loneliness he dared to lick the powdered sugar off it. When he put the plate back, door opened to reveal you with victorious smile on your face. You strode over to the bed and sat in front of him.

“Now that you ate enough sugar, can you come out and spend the day with me?” You asked.

 Yoongi’s eyes fell down to stare at his lap. His hands ran up his face and he let out a loud sigh. You were afraid to push him too much but then you noticed a bit of sugar on the top of his nose. Your finger wiped it off and transported it to your mouth. You licked off the sweetness meanwhile smiling at his surprised face.

“I’ve been blessed with the sugar off the sweetest man on Earth.”

 His face softened, your most beloved expression replacing the previous one. His hand caught yours and gripped on it tightly. No words needed.

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All I’ve got II pt. 4

Jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, ANGST, smut!!, bestfriend!jungkook

word count: 13k


Jeon Jungkook was a tall guy, handsome with all those ethereal artwork tattooed on his arms..and your best friend. He was by your side whereas you faced a painful heartbreak, caressing your hurt soul for as long as you needed him. But how much can a friendship withstand if one of the two develops feelings?

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Andrew hasn’t slept since Thursday night. It’s the only fact with any physical weight to him at the moment, as he sits on the windowsill with his forehead against the chilly glass. The living room is mostly dark, tinted with the the greenish hue that comes before pre-dawn, and he stares out over the park as the sky steadily lightens with morning.

Friday night’s game had tired him out, but somehow he’d gotten only an hour of sleep before his brain dropkicked him into reluctant consciousness. There hadn’t been any nightmares, for once. He just couldn’t sleep. And now he feels the crash coming upon him, an unwelcome reminder of over a decade ago when his life had been dictated by little white pills.

He doesn’t even have enough energy to be properly maudlin. The only things on his mind are his aching eyes, his warm bed, and Neil sleeping peacefully. He lurches into standing, and heads for the bedroom.

Their condo is large, larger than the two of them need really, but the cats appreciate the extra space. It’s paid for mostly by Andrew, but it’s the one he wanted, even though Neil had tried to reason him into one of the more modest choices their realtor had prepared for them. Andrew had figured that if he could afford the best choice, why not get it? Neil had issues when it came to spending a lot of money on things for himself, issues that Andrew didn’t have the patience to work through so he put it all on his account and dealt with the fallout later.

Their bedroom is the largest one; it sits on the corner of the building with large windows along two walls that offer a gorgeous view of the surrounding area, according to their realtor. Andrew hadn’t cared for the view and instead had hung up blackout curtains to allow him to sleep in without interruption from the sun.

How ironic.

Neil had pulled open one of the curtains sometime in the night, or maybe before he’d gone to sleep. Andrew hadn’t even gone to bed last night, so he didn’t know. The window adjacent to the bed is uncovered, letting in the bluish light of the very early morning. It makes the scars on Neil’s body look softer somehow, less harsh and more like they’re a part of him instead of remnants of his past that linger unwanted in his skin.

Andrew likes Neil’s scars. He’s never told him, and he never plans to. They don’t repulse him or make him uncomfortable. They’re badges, trophies that show this is what was done to me and this is what I survived. Neil doesn’t hide them anymore, and Andrew’s glad for it, both because his shame was intensely aggravating and because this way he gets to see more of Neil’s body on a regular basis.

Neil has mellowed out since their college days, and usually Andrew can sneak into bed without waking Neil up, but today he’s exhausted and more clumsy than usual. The bed bounces more than planned as he finally lays down and pulls the comforter over his cold body, and Neil makes a low sound and scoots closer to Andrew. He always runs warm and only ever covers up with the sheet, which now is pooled across the small of his back, leaving everything above open for scrutiny by Andrew.

Andrew lifts a trembling hand and sets it in the middle of Neil’s back, his eyes roaming over the patchwork quality of his skin. The scarring isn’t as severe as his front, but it is still very significant. His eyes half close as his fingers move unchecked, following along the seams in his skin as if trying to find the proper route on a roadmap. It’s soothing to him, somehow, like petting the cats is to Neil. Neil makes a noise low in his throat again in contentment, and Andrew almost rolls his eyes at how apt the comparison is.

“Why are you playing with my back?” Neil asks, voice rough from sleep. He’s been awake since Andrew got in bed, Andrew knows, and anyway there’s comfortable amusement in his tone.

“Not your back,” Andrew replies, voice uncooperative in his tired haze. “You gave it to me.”

“And then you gave it back, remember?” His face is still turned away from Andrew, but there’s something more in his tone now that Andrew can’t parse at the moment. Later.

He drums his fingers on Neil’s shoulder blade. “No takebacks,” he says, childishly. Neil shifts slightly, and switches which side of his head is pressed against the pillow so that he faces Andrew. He’s more awake and functional than Andrew is at this point, but the look on his face makes Andrew pinch his back and close his eyes in irritation.

He can feel Neil’s back move as he laughs his weird little hitching-breath giggle. Maybe he’s not as awake as Andrew thought, but that only makes the idea of falling asleep better. Who needs a space heater when Neil Josten is laying right next to you?

The blankets rustle. “Are you asleep?” Neil asks, right in front of his face.

Andrew runs his hand over the expanse of Neil’s back once more before letting it rest across the small of it under the sheet and tugs him closer just enough that their noses brush. “Not yet,” he breathes, and then falls asleep at last.

sleep talk - peter parker

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Sleep talking can result in anything. You didn’t know falling asleep in chemistry class would result in a vivid dream. But, you also didn’t know Peter could hear said dream.

Warnings: slight language and makeout sesh?? lol

Words: 2347 (long one wowie)

a/n: this is so angst and so teenage hormoned holy shit but anyway, hope you all enjoy!!<33 (gif creds to owner)

masterlist


“Peter, please,” your hushed voice came out in a scratchy and needy tone as your fingers found themselves grasping the soft material of Peter’s blue sweater, yanking him closer to your figure messily.

Your swarming pulse tightened along with the steamy, pooling feeling forming in the bottom of your stomach. Your mind was clouded with unlawful lust and need for the boy before you as the world around you seemed to scatter into a void of complete nothingness. The bright brown eyes, curvy lips, and captivating smile was the only distraction your brain dared to focus on for now.

You had no idea where the sudden urge from your teen self had come from. All you knew is, the enticing feeling pumping through your veins all the way down to your toes and the warm breaths you kept emitting to keep yourself from moaning were the only things keeping you sane at this moment in time. The boy before you caused your being to escape into a frenzy of everlasting adoration for him.

Your pretty Y/E/C eyes were tightly shut as your heart thumped at the hot breath hitting against the cold skin of your neck, and the way his plump pink lips ghosted over skin achingly. Your other hand was playing with the cuff of Peter’s dress shirt underneath his sweater, distracting yourself from reaching up and tugging on his soft, curly hair in utter sexual tension.

“Be patient, beautiful,” your ears were flooded with Peter’s raspy and tempting voice, sending a wave of shivers across your body. Your stomach twisted into a tight knot at the feeling of his smug tone teasing you as it clashed against your lips.

Peter’s hand reached up, tucking itself softly behind your ear, his thumb rubbing soothing circles across your flushed red cheek. Your eyes peeled open and met his in a lust-filled gaze, so strong nothing would be able to break it. The energy flowing between the two of you was so rapid yet so painful for you at the same time. All you urged for was his lips to be placed upon yours in a heated kiss.

His eyes never escape yours as thumb angled itself underneath your chin and pushed up slightly. You followed his direction and tilted your head to the side softly and watched his craving brown eyes stare mischievously into yours.

Soon, never breaking eye contact, Peter leaned his head down and his lips placed themselves upon the silky skin of your neck. At that moment, your world went into an absolute frenzy of desire and adoration as the boy you loved scattered loving kisses across your neck.

The sense of his wet lips dancing over your neck caused your heart to beat rapidly in your chest and the knot in your stomach to tighten even more than before. The feeling was indescribable.

A throaty moan emitted from your chapped lips mistakenly, causing Peter;s lips to curl into a smile. But, you didn’t care. Whatever mindset you were in had taken you over completely, and was not letting you go any time soon.

“So, so beautiful,” Peter’s hushed whispers echoed through your ears and against your skin, your heart swelling at his sweet words.

Your eyes never broke as you watched his neck him but his eyes stay latched into yours in an enticing gaze. The hunger was stirring at the bottom of your stomach as he lightly began to suck on the skin, your eyes daring to look away, but couldn’t.

Your body yearned to be intertwined with his, the radiation of  passionate heat and love pushed his figure close to yours, the energy flushing between your sweaty and needy bodies.

Your hands found themselves moving up Peter’s chest and latch around the back of his neck. You yank him forward and up, breaking the kisses he was giving to your neck. You whine at the loss of contact and groan as Peter’s lips lay ghostly over yours.

You play with the hair on the back of his neck and moan loudly before confessing, “I need you, so, so badly. Please, Peter. Please…” your voice cracks with craving and emotion. You needed him entirely, the love inside you was burning quickly and the fever you were pitching was causing your forbidden lust to immensely grow by the second.

Peter leans closer to you, the clouding of your mind strengthens as you wait for his next longing action. His eyes flicker to your chapped lips and then your eyes, the ones he could find himself lost in for hours, before grabbing your face with both his hands.

You lean into his sweet and devoted touch, the infatuation you have with him daring to show its true colors.

Peter whispers with such passion your entire body lights up with affection.

“I’ll always need you, Y/N. I love you, so, so much,” before capturing your lips-

“Y/N!”

Your head jolts up from its previous position and your eyes are shot open with confusion as a breath of air zips out of your mouth. You feel yourself squint at the sudden ray of artificial light clash against your orbs painfully, as if they haven’t met with it such a long time. Your brain signals to your weary thoughts that you must have been asleep, due to the drool running its course down your chin and the hot, red mark you had your cheeks from laying against your arm for too long.

Looking over quickly, you come face to face with Peter, his eyes staring confusingly into yours and his eyebrows furrowed with concern. You’re met with an empty classroom, the desk scattered in different positions from students moving out the door to their next class.

You shake your head and blink rapidly, focusing back in on Peter and why in the hell he screamed  your fucking name.

“What, Peter?” you said, filled with aggravation and confusion. Peter looked at you as if you were insane, throwing his hands up in the air and then slamming them back down on top of your desk before you.

“You’ve been asleep all of class, Y/N! The bell rang five minutes ago,” he drawls out the time, his voice portraying slight annoyance and amusement as he leans towards you mockingly.

Your mind fills with confusion as you glance over at the clock, it reading two fifty P.M., you whip your head back to face Peter, realizing school had already ended.

Your flustered features glanced over Peter’s, his face reading amusement and smug as he stared right back at you. Your mind seemed as if it was trying to glance back at something, but not knowing what. It was as if you were suddenly in a different world than your sleep habits brought you two a couple minutes ago.

You continue to look at Peter, your eyes glance down at his lips as they formed a playful smirk, the curl of them etching itself into a similar part of your brain.

Holy fuck.

A rapid heartbeat hits your chest forcefully as a tight wave of your gets lodged in your throat. Your eyes look deeply into the features your subconscious was just previously awing over minutes ago, all the emotion, need, and clarity rewinding itself back into your brain.

Your eyes were feverishly jolting themselves to stare at any other place among the room besides Peter’s smug and attractive gaze, your ears echoing the sounds you made at his touch, and the way your breaths heaved from your chest at the love you felt in that vivid alternate universe.

One second you were pushed into a state of lust and wistful dreams of your longing love and best friend Peter Parker, and the next you’re flustered at his gaze still, sitting in your chemistry classroom on a Tuesday afternoon.

“I need you, so, so badly. Please, Peter. I love you”

“I’ll always need you, Y/N. I love you so, so much”

Cheeks turning pink and eyes widening with inner embarrassment, you immediately pushed your chair back and got up from your previous position, throwing your backpack over your shoulder. Peter slowly leans off your now vacant desk and folded his arms over his chest and made his way towards you.

“Y/N…?” he questions, eyes squinting with a mischievous gaze at your sudden startled state. You feel your stomach begin that same nervous knotting feeling at his gaze, and your heart thump at his familiar body language.

You could feel the clashing thoughts you had rework in your mind, daring to speak aloud and ask Peter the one question you really didn’t want to know. Your nerves were bouncing back off your emotions evidently, the look of pure fear sprawled evenly across each and every one of your features. You felt as if you truly didn’t know how to immediately act around this boy now, due to the fact that without his voice startling you awake, you would’ve been screwing him two minutes earlier.

You make your way to door, preparing your quick exit and for Peter to just forget your nervous energy and move on. Your fingers picked at your nails as Peter followed suit, walking right next to you as you two made your awkward, painful, and embarrassing  walk down the silent hallway of the vacant school.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Your subconscious continued to trick you, muttering hapless confessions of your feelings for Peter, while your true conscience decided to run through the mindful and casual questions you could ask Peter on what exactly occurred whilst your mind was lusting for him as his was focused on the chemistry assignment.

The tension was evident before you ignored your innermost revealing thoughts and asked the question you’d been daring to for the past ten minutes. Your eyes looked over the rows of blue lockers and focused on one object at a time to prevent yourself from looking like a flustered mess as Peter revealed what he might of heard.

“So, did I like, sleep talk?” you asked quizzically, fingers fumbling over themselves as your teeth poked out to grasp your bottom lip in social discomfort. Your mind was swarming with possible scenarios that could go down within the next ten seconds, but you attempted to ignore them and focus on the blue paint peeling away at locker 129.

Peter emitted a deep sigh, his shoes squeaking against the newly cleaned floor as his awaited attempt of a heart attack from you carried on to reveal his final answer.

He sighed, scratchy voice soothing you immediately with his ‘truthful’ answer, “No, not really. I was pretty focused on the lesson today. It was interesting,” he confessed, lips piercing together in a straight line as his captivating eyes smiled at you as soon as you dared to look over at him.

You heaved a sigh of relief and shook your head playfully yet thankfully, “Oh, good. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t snoring, ya know?” you countered seemingly playfully, cracking a smile in his direction.

Yeah, like that was the thing you were worried about.

The relief was grave as you two continued the long walk out of the school and to Peter’s. Peter chuckled lightly next to you before pursing his lips once more, to hold back his own little laugh for something much more embarrassing and interesting  than a slight snore.

His heart was just as erratic as yours and you both walked together, the feelings you endured for him were now true, veins pumping with adrenaline as finally knew they were mutual. When his ears heard the sweet whimpers of his name emit from your seemingly soft and pure lips, he couldn’t help but smile warmly at you, knowing that no one else around could hear you but him.

His mind debated on whether to out you right here, right now, or keep his little secret hidden for a while. But of course, his subconscious somehow took over, the smug yet now vulnerable  side of him daring to show for just a split second.

He breathed heavily before coughing, “I mean, except for, ”’Please, Peter. Please,’“  he whined, a moan emitting deep from within his throat as he imitated you.

Your heart stopped and your eyes widened so gravely you thought they would bug out of your head at this point. Your face burned with hot red embarrassment as you came to a sudden realization that Peter Parker had heard you moan and whine his name.

The air sound you was thin and the silent halls echoed with the nerves bouncing off your body right now, the smug smile sprawled across Peter’s face was enough to cause your hormones to spring into an absolute frenzy, even though your embarrassed and horrified was enough to cause your breathing to stop.

Your attempt stutter out a response failed you, the hysteria of revealed feelings and obvious sexual tension you proved ignited your nervous energy instinctively, "P-Peter I-I can e-explain-”

“Y/N, it’s fine,” his seemingly content voice played with your feelings so well you knew you were so deep there was no way to dig yourself out. His voice attempted to calm your nerves and obvious fretfulness almost as if he knew it all along.

The air was now thinned out completely and the energy and tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife.

But, what you didn’t know, was that he had heard much more than you now thought.

Peter moved closer to your shaky and familiar figure, his nerves scattered throughout his veins as well, the conscience of each of you knowingly plays a scene that is about to take place between the two of you.

You felt his voice grow quiet and your mind flashed back to the previous scandalous and apparently obvious thoughts that once carried you back to the scene of a lustful and teen hormone filled world.

Peter leaned over softly, close to your ear, the familiar hot breath lingering over your skin so softly your stomach pooled with anticipation and desire as Peter whispered three little words you’d always yearned to hear fall from his pretty curved lips.

“Because, I love you too.”


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Written for the first day of Sterek Week ‘17: Alpha and Emissary! I hereby present to you 1.5k of werewolf speed dating :D

It’s that time of year again: no, not Halloween. It’s the weekend of the Great North Atlantic Supernatural Mixer.

Or, as Erica likes to call it: speed dating for overpowered Alphas and snooty Emissaries.

Derek has been going since he became an Alpha, and each and every year he came home alone again, much to the disappointment of his pack. He’s not really feeling much hope for this year either.

The connection between Alpha and Emissary is the most important one in the pack. They have to be able to trust each other implicitly as neither can just order the other into submission for the pack structure to uphold. The Alpha Emissary relationship does not have to be romantic in nature, but it often tends to be, given how close they have to be to work together seamlessly as a team.

And Derek just hasn’t ever met anyone he had been able to even remotely imagine building that kind of relationship with. There have been a few Emissaries who approached him, drawn in by the weight that the Hale name still has in the supernatural world, or by the sweet call of money. Some were obviously just after a sexual relationship, attracted to Derek’s body and not interested at all in his mind or heart. It always takes all of Derek’s control to get through the weekend without starting a feud with an easily affronted Emissary. And never has he ever felt inclined to approach anyone himself.

Keep reading

everybody wants to love you!

anonymous requested: for the soulmate prompt thing at first i was like aww for number 18 but then i just imagined modern reddie and eddie has fucking all star by smashmouth stuck in his head who the fuck is singing all start oh it’s richie (also on ao3)

Everyone knew that if a song was stuck in your head, it was because your soulmate was singing it. Eddie had always thought it was cute until it began happening to him. Now the main reason he wanted to meet his soulmate was to strangle them for singing such annoying songs.

Eddie struggled to concentrate on the textbook in front of him. He groaned and closed the book, resting his face in his hands. Bill gave him a concerned look over his laptop.

“Something wrong, Eddie?” he asked.

The brunet looked at him in exasperation. “They’re singing again. Why do they always have to start singing whenever I’m doing something important!?”

Bill smiled sympathetically. “What is it this time?”

Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me / I ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed / She was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb / In the shape of an “L” on her forehead

“Fucking ‘All Star’ by Smash Mouth. I hate my life, Bill.”

His friend laughed. “You say that now but you’ll change your mind when you meet your soulmate.”

The hypochondriac rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Bill. You’re not the one with a soulmate that sings meme songs and weird indie shit. I wish my soulmate sang pretty songs like yours,” he grumbled.

Hey now, you’re an all-star, get your game on, go play / Hey now, you’re a rock star, get the show on, get paid / And all that glitters is gold / Only shooting stars break the mold

Eddie whined again and buried his face in his arms.

“I want to die.”

He shot Bill a glare when he laughed.

-

“Are we rehearsing tonight?” Bill asked the lead singer and founder of their band.

Richie groaned. “I don’t want to but we have to keep practicing that song we’re gonna cover for the show on Friday, which is two days from now. So yeah, we’re rehearsing.”

Bill snorted. “Alright, I’ll let Bev know then.”

He left to call their bassist and Richie leaned back in the lounge chair in the Student Union. He began to hum the tune of their new song. The trashmouth pulled out his notebook and scribbled down some notes and lyric ideas.

I come home in the morning light / My mother says when you gonna live your life right / Oh mother dear we’re not the fortunate ones / And girls they wanna have fun / Oh girls just want to have fun

Richie smiled wide as he stilled his hand. He really wanted to meet his soulmate. From what he could gather by their taste in music, they’d be fun to be around.

“What are you smiling about?”

He looked up. Bill sat down across from him, eyebrow raised knowingly. Richie’s cheeks reddened as he looked back to his notebook.

When the working / When the working day is done / Oh when the working day is done oh girl / Girls, they wanna have fun

“My soulmate’s singing.”

Bill nodded, a smirk forming. “Beverly’s on her way,” he told him. “She’s bringing dinner, also.”

“God bless her fucking soul.”

-

Eddie watched as Stan threw himself dramatically on the couch in his apartment. He groaned loudly before regaining his composure and sitting up.

“Everything okay, Stan?” Eddie asked, genuinely concerned for his friend.

The curly haired teen looked up at him. “Yes and no.”

The brunet raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Yes, I’m fine as in there isn’t anything actually wrong with me. No, I’m not fine because my soulmate won’t stop singing love songs.”

Eddie gave him a jealous look. “I’d take that over getting ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ stuck in my head every hour.”

Stan snorted. “I really want to meet them but it’s unlikely. I just hope the chances are good enough that we go to the same university.”

“I get what you mean. I want to meet my soulmate and beat the crap out of them for getting all those shitty songs stuck in my head, but yeah, I also want to meet them for the obvious reasons.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Eddie, but your soulmate sounds like a fucking nightmare,” his friend said. “Anyway, ready to start this dumbass history project?”

Eddie groaned and went over to the TV and turned it on.

“By the way, my roommate might be back, like, halfway through this documentary,” he explained as he inserted the DVD.

“I’m warning you now but history is honestly the most boring subject so don’t get mad at me if I fall asleep, which is very likely. Just pay extra attention,” Stan told him, pulling his feet up on the couch.

Eddie rolled his eyes and sat with him on the couch, pressing the play button. He tried to focus but the dull voice of the narrator explaining the French Revolution was making it hard. That and the new song stuck in his head.

Your sister thinks that I’m a freak / She’s been ignoring my calls, we haven’t spoken in a week / I get so drunk that I can’t speak / Yeah, nothing’s working and the future’s looking bleak and I say

“Really? Now of all times?”

“Song stuck in your head?” Stan asked as he repositioned himself to lie down.

Eddie nodded miserably. “Yeah, and it sounds loud. You know what I mean.”

“No, not really.”

Three beers and I’m so messed up, get drunk and I can’t shut up / She says that I drink too much / I fucked up and she hates my guts / She says that I need to grow up

“It always happens when I really need to focus. I feel like they know,” Eddie explained.

“Well, block it out and pay attention. I can feel my soul dying as this documentary progresses.”

The hypochondriac laughed at his friend and drew his legs up on the couch so he was sitting crisscross.

I’ll drink ‘til I’m staring at the ceiling / I’ll be just fine I’m numb and losing feeling / I can’t tell lies anymore

“What are we even supposed to do for this assignment?” Stan asked, looking over at Eddie.

He shrugged. “I think we’re supposed to watch the documentary and then write some questions? Our professor said he’d pick the best ones and use them as essay questions for the next test.”

“Shit.”

I just don’t know what to do, I’m still fucked up over you / She says that I drink too much / Hawaiian red fruit punch / She says I need to grow up

“It shouldn’t be too bad considering the French Revolution is pretty straightforward,” said Eddie.

His friend groaned again, leaning his head back against the couch. “Kill me.”

True to his word, Stan fell asleep about ten minutes in. Eddie tried his best to pay attention, scribbling down possible ideas for questions, but four more songs came and went. The documentary had just ended when he heard the apartment door open. He looked up from the TV where he was removing the disc.

“Hey,” Eddie waved. “How was practice?”

Bill dropped his bookbag on the ground and headed into the kitchen.

“It was good,” he told Eddie as he poured himself a bowl of cereal before draping himself over the armchair. “We got a lot of stuff done and perfected the two covers we’re doing for Fridays show. Which you better still be going to.”

Eddie rolled his eyes when Bill gave him a pointed look. “I’m going.”

He grinned. “Good. Anyway, what the hell were you watching?”

“It was for a stupid assignment for my history class. Speaking of, Stanley, wake up! It’s over.”

He shoved Stan with his foot, jerking him awake.

“Okay, first off? Rude. Secondly, your couch is very uncomfortable, please tell me you don’t make guest sleep here.”

Eddie shrugged at him. “Do you wanna, like, stay and get take out or something?”

Stan stood up, stretching his arms over his head, causing his shirt to ride up a bit. “No, I should probably get back to my apartment and hope my roommate hasn’t burned it down,” he replied.

He seemed to just now notice Bill. “Oh, you must be Eddie’s roommate. I’m Stanley.”

Bill smiled at him and Eddie noticed Stan’s cheeks flush. “Bill.”

“Nice to meet you. Anyway, I should head out. I’ll see you tomorrow, Eddie.”

Eddie said his goodbyes as he walked out of the apartment. He noticed how his roommate’s eyes lingered on the doorway.

“Hey, just out of curiosity, is he single?” Bill asked, looking back at Eddie.

“Unbelievable,” he shook his head as he walked back to his room.

“What, Eddie? Are you going to answer my question or not?” his roommate shouted after him.

He ignored him in favor of his phone vibrating. He checked to see that it was a text from Stan.

[ from: bird boy ] Okay so uhh

[ from: bird boy ] Your roommate is hot as fuck

[ from: bird boy ] Like,, raw me please

[ to: bird boy ] never ever ever make me read those words ever again in my life

[ from: bird boy ] Pass the word on to him I’m begging you

[ to: bird boy ] im blocking you

-

“Is it okay if my roommate joins us for lunch? I promised I’d go with him last week but obviously forgot and then made plans with you. He just texted me asking where we’re meeting.”

Richie looked up and Bill and laughed. “Fine with me, Big Bill. You talk a lot about your roommate. I’m excited to meet him.”

Hold up, they don’t love you like I love you / Slow down, they don’t love you like I love you / Back up, they don’t love you like I love you / Step down, they don’t love you like I love you / Can’t you see there’s no other man above you? / What a wicked way to treat the girl that loves you / Hold up, they don’t love you like I love you / Oh, down, they don’t love you like I love you

He cracked a smile. “I really want to meet my soulmate.”

Bill raised an eyebrow.

“Beyoncé.”

His friend snorted and rolled his eyes before returning to texting his roommate about his whereabouts.

How did it come down to this? / Scrolling through your call list / I don’t wanna lose my pride, but I’m a fuck me up a bitch / Know that I kept it sexy, and know I kept it fun / There’s something that I’m missing, maybe my head for one

“Okay, he’s on his way. I told him I’d order for him so let’s get going.”

Richie nodded and followed Bill into the restaurant. They ordered their food, with Bill ordering also for his roommate, before diving deep into conversation.

“Bill, I swear to god, if you ask about him again I’m going to kill you.”

A short brunet stopped abruptly behind Bill, unaware of Richie’s presence. He took this time to admire him. He was cute. Really cute. Richie grinned.

“Hiya,” he said with a grin, taking the newcomer’s eyes off his friend.

“This is my friend Richie. Richie, this is my roommate Eddie,” Bill explained. “He’ll be having lunch with us if that’s okay with you.”

Eddie gave Richie a quick once over and a small smile before sitting down next to Bill. Their food arrived shortly after and they began to eat.

“So, Eddie,” the trashmouth began. “Are you coming to our show on Friday?”

Eddie looked up, his look a bit skeptical. “Our show?” he repeated.

“I’m sure you’ve heard all about the band from Bill.”

“You’re in that band?”

Richie laughed. “Eds, I formed that band!”

He grimaced. “Don’t call me Eds.”

The dark-haired teen reached over and pinched his new friend’s cheek. “But its cute, like you!”

Eddie slapped his hand away, only looking mildly embarrassed. He glanced at Bill.

“Is he always like this?” he asked.

Bill looked at his friend and sighed. “Sadly.”

Richie placed his hand on his chest in mock offense. “You hurt me, Bill. This isn’t how you were treating me last night. Why do you always have to act so different when we’re in public?” he whined as he began to pretend to cry dramatically.

“Beep beep, Richie.”

Richie grinned wide and pushed his chair back. “I have to go. You’d better be at that show tomorrow, Eddie, or I will be very sad!”

He slung his bag over his shoulder and headed toward the exit.

“He didn’t pay,” he heard Eddie say to Bill.

“This isn’t the first time.”

Richie waved over his shoulder and blew Bill a kiss. He winked at Eddie, his grin widening when he saw him blush.

-

Friday finally rolled around and Eddie decided to invite Stan to Bill’s band’s show. He made sure to specifically mention that his roommate was in this said band because he knew Stanley would never go otherwise.

“Can you please stop talking about you and my roommate fucking,” Eddie pleaded, pressing his fingers to his temples. “And are you sure you still want to go? You weren’t looking too good earlier.”

“It’s the depression,” Stan replied, giving him a look. “But I’m okay now.”

Eddie nodded. “Okay. Let me know if you want to leave at any time and we will.”

Can I get your number? / Can I get you into bed? / When we wake up in the morning / Will you give me lots of head?

“Oh, that’s nice,” Eddie sighed as they got closer to their destination.

“Another song?”

Eddie nodded.

“Me too. Or at least parts of a song.”

Everybody wants to love you / Everybody wants to love you! / Everybody wants to love you

They approached the venue, easily identifiable by music and cheering. They paid the entry fee and walked inside. Eddie was immediately greeted by sweaty, dancing bodies and loud music. He saw Richie up on stage, strumming a guitar. He spotted Bill in the back on the drums, and two other individuals: a girl on bass and a dark-skinned guy on another guitar. He couldn’t help but stare at Richie, who caught his gaze. The dark-haired boy grinned and winked at him before continuing with the song.

Will you lend me your toothbrush? Will you make me breakfast in bed? Ask me to get married And then make me breakfast again!

Eddie watched as the rest of the band joined in for the chorus.

Everybody wants to love you.”

He froze. The Richie sang the next part alone.

Everybody wants to love you!

Eddie felt as if his skin was on fire. His hands started shaking and checked his pockets, cursing internally because of course he didn’t bring his inhaler.

“Eddie!” Stan snapped him out of his daze. Distantly he heard the band sing another line. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to throw up. Do you need me to take you to the bathroom?”

He could only nod. He didn’t think that he would react this way to meeting his soulmate. Stan grabbed his hand and led him through the crowd. He was dimly aware of the song ending and people cheering. He didn’t notice the look on Richie’s face when Stan pulled him into the bathroom. He turned the sink on and wet a paper towel, dabbing it on his face to cool himself down.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“The lead singer of that band? The one on the guitar?”

“Richie? Yeah, he’s my roommate and best friend. He’s also terrible. What about him?” Stan asked, genuinely concerned for his wellbeing.

Eddie stared at him. “He’s your roommate? You live with him?”

“Unfortunate, I know. Wait, how do you know him?”

“Bill introduced me.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Oh, god. You’re the guy he’s been gushing on about for the past twenty-four hours. It’s disgusting.”

“Says the guy who won’t shut up about my roommate,” Eddie accused.

“Yeah, whatever. Anyway, what does you almost having an asthma attack have to do with Richie?” Stanley questioned, crossing his arms.

“Well he’s, uh, he’s my soulmate,” Eddie confessed.

The curly haired boy’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit. How do you know? God, he’s going to be ecstatic when he finds out.”

Eddie reddened. “That song. It was stuck in my head on the walk over here. It sounded like it got so much louder when we came inside.”

Stan nodded. “Well, you have to tell him because he looked hurt when I had to drag you in here.”

“I literally only met him yesterday,” Eddie whined.

Stanley rolled his eyes. “Yet you like him! Man up and tell him that he’s your soulmate.” He gave Eddie a quick hug before exiting the bathroom.

Eddie took a deep breath. He moved to open the bathroom door but it was pushed open. Richie grabbed his hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.

He short-circuited for a second. “I have to tell you something.”

Richie rubbed his thumb over the palm, making Eddie shiver. “Okay.”

Eddie looked away, cheeks red. “You’re my soulmate.”

“What?”

“On the walk here, I had that song you just played stuck in my head and I’d never heard it before,” Eddie admitted.

“What did you listen to before meeting Bill for lunch yesterday?” Richie asked him.

“Um, I listened to Beyoncé. Lemonade specifically, but I don’t know what this has to do with anything.”

Richie pushed him back against the bathroom wall and grabbed the sides of his face. He kissed him hard, hands moving from his cheeks to his waist. Eddie was thrown off guard but immediately regained his composure, kissing him back earnestly, his fingers curling in his shirt. Richie coaxed his mouth open, the wet sounds of mouths and tongues pressing together filled the small room.

“I can’t believe you just made out with me in a fucking bathroom. Do you know how germy and disgusting these places are?” Eddie panted as they broke apart.

“Relax, babe. It’s not like I’m fucking you in a stall,” he grinned and pressed his forehead to Eddie’s. “Unless you want me to.”

Eddie pushed him away. “Beep beep, Richie,” he used the phrase he heard Bill say yesterday to get him to shut up. “Absolutely disgusting.”

Richie laughed and kissed him again, this time gentler. He pulled back and placed a kiss on his temple, intertwining their fingers together.

“I gotta get back out there,” he said, pulling him toward the exit. “I’ll dedicate the next song to you, darlin’.”

Eddie smiled wide as his soulmate led him back out into the crowd. He’d strangle him for singing all those annoying songs another night. Tonight was all about them.