jesus look at the time i need to go to bed

Outlast 2 Jacksepticeye series in a nutshell:

Run!

JESUS! My mortal enemy!

Eww!

Where do I go?

What is that big white light?

F*** you!

F***ing Jesus Christ!

This is f***ed up!

Come on!

Why?! Why?! I’m a good boy! I got to bed on time! I pay my taxes!

Batteries!

I’m so sorry dudes…

This game is going to shorten my life.

Shrek! I’m looking down!

The imagery is amazing.

That is so creepy!

I’m going to look around because I want to find secrets.

This game is so dark!

Kind of disappointed…

Where am I?

Awesome!

Jessica?

So much running! So much hiding!

Needs better pacing.

Not more gospels…

Jack want out!

WHAT THE PHUCK?!

PHUCK YOU!

AHHHHHHHHHH!

The first time he sees you in lingerie - Male Avengers Headcanon

This wasn’t requested but idc, @scarlettsoldier and I were talking about plus size models lmao

Originally posted by little--batman

Bucky: 

He’d be so taken aback, but in the good way. He’d look you up and down, drinking you in. He’d bite his lip as he would make his way over to you, absolutely lost in the scraps of lace and bare skin, then he’d look into your eyes before mumbling that you’re so beautiful, before kissing you so passionately with his fingers tangled in your hair. “You’re gonna kill me, darlin’” 

Originally posted by ohevansmycaptain

Steve:

Steve would be so flustered, having never seen a woman in lingerie in the flesh. He would be rooted to to the spot once he walked into your shared bedroom. His facial expression would make you nervous, “Steve…Do- Do you like it?” “Oh G-God yes I do, doll, you look marvelous” It would be you that’d have to make the first move, you would take his large hands in yours and place them on your silk covered hips. He felt like a virgin again, but Jesus H. Christ, he was going to try and not ruin those skimpy piece of fabric the moment he got a hold on himself.

Originally posted by littlemisssyreid

Sam:

You’d be looking in the vanity mirror in your bedroom, catching a glance of the handsome man at the door in the reflection before smirking at him. You’d bought the undergarments as his birthday present. You blushed as his slender fingers made their way along your shoulders to move your hair out of the way. He would press kisses to your neck and mumble “happy birthday to me” whilst smiling as his hands wandered…

Originally posted by rad-aar

Tony: 

You’d walk into his lab wearing a black trench coat over the top, of course. His head didn’t turn until he heard your voice say “FRIDAY, lock the doors please.” He’d cock a brow up at your dolled up form, his eyes would travel down your legs and then his brows would raise when he saw them bare, his jaw would fall slack but would quickly pick back with a sly smirk. As you would unbutton the trench coat, letting it slide to the floor (whilst keeping eye contact and also biting your lip) you’d hear the words “Oh, my beautiful baby girl, come to daddy…”

Originally posted by theplacewheredreamsgo

Thor:

You had definitely remembered to pack your black corset number in your bag before Thor took you to Asgard for the first time. You wanted this trip to be memorable as possible. When he first sees you in it, you’re both in his bedchamber, you’re coming out of the en suite bathroom and his mighty facade drops completely and he chokes on his mead, he’s completely awestruck, for he had never seen such undergarments, ever. He would gently pull you between his open legs, trailing his large hands across the rigid bones of the black corset, to the silk panties below, all the way down to the lace tops of your stockings. “Do you like it, my love?” “I love it, My Queen.”

Originally posted by luvn-loki

Loki: (slightly AU)

Loki had been down the past couple of weeks, trying to adjust to being an avenger and the people around him. You wanted to cheer him up with something new, you knew behind his hard facade there was a troubled man. So you rummaged through your drawers and found the one thing you needed, the unused white lace panties and bra. You hastily slipped them on before throwing a t-shirt and shorts on over the top, before calling Loki through FRIDAY. As he opened the door to your room, he would give you a small smile before laying down next to you. “I have a present for you, darling” you would say, “and what would that be, my love?” “me, now I want you to take me out of my packaging” As he would peel your shirt up, his eyes would widen at the unusual underwear you were wearing, his hands would come to cup your breasts but at the same time, admire the fine lacework, he would let out a soft groan as he saw your panties..

Originally posted by justawkwardgirl

Bruce:

Oh god, the GIF says it all. He’d be quietly reading in his room, when you’d just saunter in casually in your pyjamas. You both usually slept in underwear, or naked *wink wink*, so as you padded towards the bed, you began to remove your clothing, as Bruce caught a glimpse of purple from beneath his lashes, he looked at you like so, and put his book down. He would murmur ‘oh god, oh god, oh god’ under his breath as you crawled your way towards him, straddling him. You would grab his hands and place them just below your breasts where the purple lace finished, urging him into touching you. His touches would be delicate and curious at first, “You like it, Bruce?” “Uh- Uh yes, baby it’s beautiful, but not as much as you” he would proceed to grasp your hip tighter as his other hand brought your chest down flush onto his, he would moan heavily into your kiss at the feeling of the lace scratching against his skin

Originally posted by arlothia

Clint:

As soon as he would see you, his mouth would go completely dry, and if you were in a cartoon his eyes would pop out of his head. He’d mumble, “Oh fuck, YES!”  before making grabby hands at you, begging you to come and sit on his lap (I mean seriously, look at them thighs!) He’d become bold and immediately kiss your breasts over the velvet fabric as his hands would ping the elastic of your stockings. He’d tell you how sexy you’d look on top of him in such attire whilst his hand would come to softly grasp your throat…

Originally posted by son-of-a-blake

Pietro:

You would be getting ready for a party- you didn’t intend for him to see you in your lacy undergarments until after the party! It was supposed to be a surprise! But as Pietro would come through your door he would make said face, giving you a once over, (ogling at your behind, obviously) whilst having a devilish grin on his face whilst saying “Ah, princezná, all for me?” making you whip around in shock. 

Our Little Secret-Part One

Summary: After a hunt and quite a few drinks the boys learn that you aren’t as ‘experienced’ in one department as they thought you were. Dean thinks he can rectify that

Series Masterlist

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Square Filled/Kink: Oral Fixation for @spnkinkbingo

Word Count: 4700

Warnings: Smut, oral (male and female receiving), insecure reader, language

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. This is the first part of what I hope is a lengthy and smutty series. Any feedback is always appreciated. This is also for @emilywritesaboutdean and @wheresthekillswitch ‘s Do It Like TFW Challenge (The gif is near the bottom)

A thank you to my beta @ayeronda for betaing at an ungodly hour and being so wonderful.


It’s been a long ass day and an even longer hunt. You were more than happy to be sitting on Dean’s bed in the boys’ motel room, sipping on your second, or maybe it is the third beer. And that was just here, it wasn’t counting the four or five shots you had had down at the bar. So now you were here and Sam was riding Dean hard about his strikeout at the bar.

“Dude, you were never going home with her.”

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.”

You can’t help but chuckle, “What? Two whole minutes?”

Keep reading

Familiar but Unexpected

One Shot: Jungkook Best friend!AU x Reader

Word count: 9.5k 

Genre: Fluff, Angst and NSFW! Smut. 

A/N: I recommend you read this in one sitting - strap yourself in for one heck of a rollercoaster ride, boys and girls. I’m back to ruin your life temporarily. @jeonjungrude @author–nim @btsbangtansarmyv

Summary: Jungkook, your ‘best friend’ needs a place to stay since his older brother unexpectedly came home. You try to fix their sibling relationship but that ends up costing you your friendship with Jungkook- a trade for something better or for something worse? 

@btsfanficss masterlist here 💕

Originally posted by armythreej

The doorbell rung simultaneous to the sound of constant knocks on your door. You opened your bloodshot eyes and reached over for your phone that sat on the bedside table. Who in their right mind would visit you at 4 in the morning? The violent knocking intensified and you groaned with frustration, peeling yourself away from the warm bed. You shuffled yourself over to the front door and swung it open while rubbing your tired eyes. Of course, only Jeon Jungkook, your best friend, would have the nerve to barge in at such an ungodly hour.

Jesus woman, I thought you were dead,” Jungkook’s voice sounded relieved at the sight of you in front of him, in your nighties that consisted of merely a singlet and terribly short running shorts. It exposed your supple skin to the handsome boy.

“Jungkook what the fuck do you want? I’m tired, it’s 4 in the bloody morning-” you sighed and wobbled with fatigue.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” Jungkook scoffed and entered your apartment with a small suitcase in his grip. “My brother came home unexpectedly just then, I need a place to crash until he leaves.”

You nodded without much thought, you knew his brother was always a sensitive topic for him so you understood.

“That’s fine by me. I’m going back to sleep,” you announced to the noir haired boy with a loud yawn. He merely snickered at your exhausted state and jumped onto your sofa- where he usually crashed after his nights out.

You glided back into the comfort of your bedsheets and closed your eyes to drift off into dreamland.


Morning came quicker than expected. You woke up to the sound of shuffling and fidgeting from the kitchen. It was unusual for Jungkook to wake up so early, early being 9 o’ clock since it was a Saturday morning. 

“Good morning,” you said in a nasal voice as you poured yourself a cup of coffee Jungkook had brewed. You peaked over Jungkook’s broad shoulders to see sizzling pancakes on the pan. 

“What’s the special occasion?” you murmured behind a hazy sounding giggle and Jungkook showed no emotion, a thin line across his lips. 

“Nothing..” Jungkook sounded inaudible as his chest grew with the inhalation of his breath. He let out a loud sigh and you gulped at the boy’s condition. It was rare for him to look so serious. He was normally always making the most inappropriate jokes and comments. 

Keep reading

— slowdance on the inside | (m)

pairing— kim taehyung x reader | feat jeon jungkook
genre/warnings— light angst, romance/fluff and smut
words— 20,476

:: summary— Taehyung has liked you as long as he can remember. He’s unsure when the line blurred from friendship to romantically, but it’s about to get a lot worse when he’s forced to watch you date his friend, Jungkook…

Keep reading

Guys My Age (3)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 4k

Warnings: Lap dance to rough Smut. NSFW gifs.

Anon asked “Can you please do a part 3 to ‘guys my age’ were Bucky asks reader for another lap dance”

A/N: The fic that started it all. I’m so glad people liked it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know if you want to be tagged. Also, dominant/jealous Bucky is just wow. Let me know if you want to be tagged HERE or HERE. Go away kids! And please use protection y’all.

Part 1 Part 2

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Serendipity | (M)

Originally posted by jengkook

❝ The occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way. After forgetting to click out of his pornhub incognito tab last night, you find yourself shoulder-to-shoulder with Jungkook at 3am watching the rest of it.❞

Keep reading

A love of ice and thunder

Pairing: Loki x Thor x Reader.

Warnings: Smut and LOTS of it; a bit of drama too. There’s a lot of everything going on here so you might pick your blanket because this is also long af.

Summary: When Jane leaves Thor, in your heart you know he should stay with you, but as time goes by, his brother realizes that there is more to it.

A/N: I need Jesus, and when you finish reading this, you’re gonna need him too. My characters know they need Jesus, so that should tell you something. Feedback? It won’t hurt!


You poured some shampoo on your hand and gently started to massage your scalp with it. “So,” you started feeling the soft foam form in your hair, “I got a call from your brother yesterday,” you let the warm water run down your soapy self as you awaited for your boyfriend’s answer.

“Really? Thor knows how to make a phone call?” Loki snickered from the toilet seat. “Well, that is quite the surprise,” he shook his head.

“The thing is that he broke up with Jane just a few days ago and even though it wasn’t a lot, she’s given him some time to move out,” you casually said trying to elicit some kind of reaction from his uninterested being. “He’s really bummed, y’know?”

“I bet,” Loki pondered, “I’d be utterly destroyed if you dumped my ass,” he conceded, “but why are we talking about him anyway?”

“Well, I’ve been doing some thinking about it and… I wanted to ask you if he could stay here for a while,” you stuck your head from the end of the curtain and looked at him innocently. “I kinda owe him that…” you bit your bottom lip.

“How so?” He ran his fingers through his ebony hair.

“When SHIELD first sent me to the States I ended my renting contract with my landlord and I moved there, and when the agency died after the whole Winter Soldier thing I realized I had no home to go back to; Jane was still there and when your brother came to earth he stayed with her, so he asked Jane if I could live with them until I got my own place…” you sheepishly said as you rinsed the shampoo from your head. “I stayed there with them for like 4 months, so maybe he could stay here for that same time too, if you don’t mind,” you broke it down. “Can you pass me the towel, please?” You reached out your arm and he handed the soft cloth.

“What about our life?” He asked in a concerned voice. “I mean let’s face it, love; we are not the quietest ones and Thor isn’t either; he snores like a chainsaw,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but we’ll have to be a bit more quiet and just… hold on?” You drew back the curtain and got out with Loki’s help. “Let me return him the favor, it’ll be for just a little, okay?” You looked at him with puppy eyes, it always worked with him. “Can we?”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he shook his head and unmade the towel, making it fall onto the humid tiles. “I might consider it,” he effortlessly lifted you in his arms, making you wrap your legs around his waist, “but only if you bribe me,” he mischievously smiled and headed for the room.

And just a few days after that, Thor was setting up this few belongings in the spare room of your apartment. He was really embarrassed for having to ask you that. He knew he was invading your privacy and your couple life with Loki, but he really didn’t have much choice or friends in the United Kingdom.

“It’s okay, big guy,” you placed a hand on his shoulder when he sat on the bed in defeat. “I know it hurts and all, but… you’ll be fine eventually, give it some time and you’ll see how things turn alright,” you shrugged lightly, “besides you’re living with us now, we’re gonna have fun!” You smiled widely and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He rested his head on your chest and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Now come, and we’ll ask for something to eat for dinner,” you said.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I think the most important question of all time is if Derek prefers belly rubs, or is he the kind of 'clingy when cuddling' boyfriend so he just lays on top of Stiles and lets him rub his back (and sometimes his butt) ? My personal headcanon is that werewolves can get sort of stoned from their mate's scent and Derek once a month likes to climb into Stiles' lap and melt into his arms surrounded by his boyfriend's scent. Bonus pie points if Derek steals Stiles' shirts to wear when he's napping

You have no idea how much I just screamed over this ask. This is being filed under “favourites”, for sure. 

I think Derek is the type of guy who really, really likes cuddles and anything that involves getting to touch Stiles, but pretends he’s completely indifferent to it/does it only to “shut Stiles up”. Which, you know, is complete lies. The first time Stiles sleeps next to Derek in a bed, it’s painfully obvious Derek wants to cuddle but he just doesn’t know how to go about asking. Poor, awkward lamb. Stiles nearly makes a joke at Derek’s expense about how obvious it is because, well, but he refrains at the last minute upon seeing Derek’s face - Derek doesn’t just look nervous, he looks scared, like he might be rejected - and shaking his head (because this adorable asshole) Stiles shifts closer and hastily mumbles something about not having his pillow, “so you’ll have to do, big guy”.

Before they get together, it takes a while for Derek to get used to being tactile with Stiles. Derek is fine touching other people - he has the control that way - but he’s still not good with people touching him. Unfortunately, that’s not a great combination when you are a touch starved werewolf with trust issues, because it pretty much means the only kind of physical contact Derek ever receives is either in life or death situations or during (not so fun and friendly) pack training sessions. Not ideal. Of course, after a while, Stiles clocks this. 

Stiles has known about Derek’s touch issues since he first met him, but it’s better now (he thinks). So he tries small things: sitting next to Derek during pack movie nights and pressing his leg against his; letting himself fall asleep on Derek’s shoulder (desperately trying not to read too much into it when Derek doesn’t move away); and, a few times, hugging Derek goodbye and lingering longer than he should each time he does it. 

After a while, Derek starts touching Stiles back. One day, he just crawls through Stiles’ window and sits by Stiles’ bed until Stiles - very tired and not thinking things through too much - puts a hand on Derek’s shoulder and tells him in no uncertain terms “ to get up here for some Stilinski spooning time”. Derek grumbles at that but he’s in Stiles’ bed exactly twenty seconds later, which gives Stiles major pause for thought. 

Major.

And listen, this is how it goes on. They aren’t even together but Derek touching Stiles and being touched by him soon becomes A Thing. For both of them. A very important thing. The life of Derek Hale suddenly becomes about three things: the pack, Cora, and Stiles. 

Sometimes, Stiles sleeps over at the loft. Not for any reason other than the fact Stiles does a lot of late night research there, but after a while it kind of becomes apparent Stiles is there for “research times” and what he has come to call “Derek’s personal pillow times”. Derek’s person pillow times often involve Derek shyly (but somehow still grumpily) crawling into Stiles’ lap and (not so subtly) scenting him. Stiles asked about the scenting thing once and Derek stopped for three weeks, entirely embarrassed - Derek had looked so upset and torn about the whole thing (aka, he looked like a hurt five year old) that eventually Stiles had just marched into the loft, stuck Batman on, and told Derek to get his “fluffy butt in here. I mean it Derek, my neck is lonely now. Don’t leave a bro in need like this, it’s accustomed to your snout!” Stiles expected Derek to either throw him out or snark at him for that but instead, Derek shuffled - actually shuffled - into the room (still appearing out of nowhere, the creepy show off), holding himself rather tight, before crawling into Stiles’ lap and staying there for exactly 2.5 Batman movies, face buried in Stiles’ neck. (Stiles does not grin manically when he feels Derek’s whole body sag against him, like he hasn’t been able to settle without him.) 

During Stiles’ second year of college, they have their first kiss. Well, if a first kiss can be called a first kiss when the dude you are hard core crushing on puts a finger to your lips half way through your perfectly valid rant about why Princess Leia is The Best, stares into your eyes for a solid three minutes (and somehow makes it both awkward and the best fucking thing you have ever experienced when looking at someone), before placing a very soft and intimate kiss to your neck. Stiles has no idea what it even means until he eventually plucks up the courage to ask Cora who instantly threatens him with bodily harm if Stiles hurts her brother. (”So, uh, the neck thing was…..?” “My brother’s traditional, dorky way of telling you he loves you. Duh. Jesus Stiles, and you call yourself our Emissary?”)

From then on out, Derek’s attachment to touching Stiles just becomes more intense. In front of people and the pack he’ll settle for holding hands or being next to Stiles, but in private he becomes like a lazy cat. He gets very pouty when he wakes up and finds Stiles not in bed for morning cuddles; he loves being able to wash Stiles’ hair; back rubs and head rubs are his favourite, especially when he’s reading or they are watching movies (Derek’s introducing all the classics to Stiles, like Rebecca and The Breakfast Club; “no, Spider-man doesn’t count as a classic, Stiles” “says who?” “says me if you still want a blow job later” ). Mostly though, he just loves being in his old position of sitting in Stiles’ lap and burying his face in Stiles’ neck. 

Sometimes Stiles will talk about his day while Derek does this and it works for both of them because Derek is surrounded by Stiles’ scent, his voice, his whole being; and that calms him, settles him in a way he hasn’t been since before the fire. And in turn, having someone to listen to him - really, truly listen - while he’s talking, brings Stiles a kind of happiness he’s never experienced before. Sure, people hear him. They talk to him and hold conversations. But sooner or later Stiles always sees their eyes wander, sees the start of a yawn or is outright told to shut up. 

Stiles knows his attention isn’t anything to write home about but there is a difference between being unable to hold someone’s attention and someone just not wanting to hold your attention, specifically. Of course, Derek still tells Stiles to shut up, that’s never a thing that stopped between them, but now it usually ends in heated make out sessions or sex, so, Stiles really has no complaints. But in moments like these, with Derek in his lap, Derek just listens. He can sit for hours and never tires of Stiles. If Stiles is happy, he smiles into his neck, makes these little happy sounds; if he’s sad, he’ll kiss his neck, and murmur quiet things; angry, he’ll hold him tighter and let him vent, for as long as he likes. 

Some couples have hobbies, have things, but this is their ritual. Just this. Every other day, just having this quiet moment of peace and happiness. A bubble no one can penetrate. It’s a visible anchor, the place they always come back to. It’s a place they both need; the place Stiles needs when he’s feeling insecure and the place Derek needs when he’s feeling lonely. Nothing can touch them in it, no high is better. Especially to Derek who really can feel a little drunk off of Stiles’ scent, sometimes. It’s a kind of closeness both of them have always craved but never really gotten. It’s Derek’s way of saying I love you when he finds it difficult to say it. It’s Stiles’ way of knowing I’m needed when he doubts it. 

It’s just them, and even though it sometimes freaks Stiles out - the stillness, the fact he can be this still, for hours - it serves as a precious reminder that after all the chaos, after all the loss and heart break, that they found this: they found a small and quiet, beautiful thing. And they found it in each other, which is both the most baffling and the least surprising thing of all. 

Bring It On | 01

Park Jimin | Comedy | Fluff | Slight Angst | BIO!au | cheerleader!jimin

❝You had long since gotten over your crush on your co captain slash roommate, Jimin. Other than the occasional wandering hand that maybe wasn’t so appropriate for someone who was supposed to be supporting you while you were in the air, or congratulatory smack on the ass after practice he was uninterested. Very, very, very much uninterested.❞

 

You blink down at your lunch tray, a scathing look marring your face when you note the mushed grool on your plate is probably leftovers from yesterday. You eye the cafeteria lady warily when she plops another serving on your tray, expression deadpan—you take longer to move along in line and she thinks she’s doing you a favor by serving you seconds.

“Greta,” you grin pleasantly, inching the tray back in her direction, “you’re doing amazing. Love the enthusiasm, that apron really suits you. However, I pay eight thousand dollars in college tuition and this looks like the wet food I give my dog. Do you think instead of this I could—”

She interrupts you with a wet slap of brown mush being added onto your already growing pile.

Wonderful,” you sigh, when you note the brown spackle on your uniform top, “can I just get a kale salad instead?”

It was for the best, anyway, you chide yourself. The fact that your school served lunch that was about as edible as aluminum foil made dieting easier. The reminder of your diet, however makes you groan as you reach the condiment station, chancing a smell at the ranch dressing in the clear plastic bowl. When you deem it safe enough to consume, you begin working on the croutons—

“Would you like some salad with your dressing?” Someone snorts from behind you.

You lift a wary gaze to Park Jimin, who’s leaning against the counter, working on organizing his grilled chicken. He cocks a brow at you as though he knows you’re glaring, even without looking.

“And to what do I owe this pleasure so early in the morning?”

Jimin rolls his eyes at you, nudging you out of the way so he can dress his own salad.

“Just think of me as your fairy godmother—I get a tingling sensation whenever you start to double carb.” He snorts, snatching the bread roll off your your tray and shoving you in the direction of your regular lunch table.

“It’s wheat.” You say indignantly, snatching it back and shoving it in your mouth.

“Just because wheat bread induces a slightly lower glycemic response doesn’t mean it’s better for you.” He spouts off automatically and you debate whether or not you can smash your head in before he starts scolding, “There’s no inherently good bread, just one that’s gonna make your ass slightly fatter as opposed to one that’s processed whole wheat.”

Apparently there was no avoiding his scolding this afternoon.

“For the record my mother says I have a wonderful figure,” you inform.

Jimin blinks at you before shoving a piece of chicken in his mouth, “Tell your mom to base for you then.”

“You’re in a fine mood this morning,” you scoff, before sending a teasing smile at your co captain, “I take it the freshman pitched their new uniform idea to you?”

Jimins jaw clenches at the thought, rubbing his aching temples, “I’m all for being a whore. I love the concept, I think it’s great. But I hate the bandage skirt idea. And if we’re going to look like hookers, we should at least be Marilyn Monroe and for like presidents and shit. Not Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.”

“Julia Roberts slander aside,” you glare, “I agree with you. They’re tacky and besides, regionals in three weeks—changing uniforms now would just be complicated, not to mention we have to worry about finding another base now that Hoseok’s graduating.”

“God, don’t fucking remind me, I already have a headache thinking about auditions. But also, I’m so happy you agree which is why I took the liberty of telling them to go fuck themselves.” Jimin grins cheerfully as you stab a pice of kale.

“What did I say about making decisions on my behalf?” You pin him with an annoyed look before throwing your fork down with a clank, “we’re a team Jimin, we make decisions together.”

“Yes and it’s because we’re a team that I know you hate all the things I do.” He explains.

“This is why they don’t respect me.” You say, “at least not as much as they do you.”

“They don’t respect me, they’re scared of me. It’s good for our image. Like a good cop, bad cop kind of thing.” He argues before slicing a piece of his grilled chicken on putting it on your plate, “And will you eat? You wouldn’t have to starve yourself if you made better choices. For example a vinaigrette instead of what is essentially going to be an extra three pounds on your ass.”

You blink at him rapidly before sighing, rising to your feet. “Whatever, Jimin.”

“Hey,” he calls out behind you but you’re already halfway across the cafeteria, equal parts irritable and unamused by Jimins lax behavior. You stop when a hand grips your wrist, “okay jeez I’m sorry. I’m kidding. Quit being a brat and eat your lunch. I said try to drop three pounds not starve yourself.”

“Wow, what a sincere apology,” you snort and attempt to walk away again but he’s gripping you by the waist, far too close for comfort with his front pressed against your back and plush lips at your ear.

This is new. Very new. 

Your roommate was a lot of things, touchy was not one of them. If anything, he prided himself on his personal space and was constantly shoving you out of his room, out of his bed, out of the fucking bathroom

“I’m sorry alright?” He mutters and you close your eyes because he was confusing. So confusing it hurt. “I didn’t mean it. I had one too many bowls of bitch flakes today—either that or you’re PMSi—fucking ow.”

Jimin rubs his side where you elbowed before glaring at you.

“Apology not accepted.” You sniff when he turns you in his arms and there was a time when you would have been ecstatic to be in this position but those feelings have long since fled.

He only tugs you closer with a grin when you don’t fight off his hold. Jimin raises a brow at something over your shoulder and you frown.

“Don’t look now but your baby boyfriend is on his way over,” Jimin whispers before retracting his arms.

“My baby what?” You frown and it only takes you a full second to realize who he’s talking about because before long Jeon Jungkook is crowding your space.

“Hey,” he calls, an arm winding its way around your waist before you’re rolling your eyes at Jimin’s teasing smirk. “What’s going on here?”

“Jungkook,” you greet, before extracting yourself from his hold, “What’s up?”

“I could say the same,” he mutters before nodding at Jimin, “We have a problem here?”

Jimin cringes at his cheesy line before pinning him with a bored look, “Actually we—”

“Me and Jimin were going over cheer stuff. Did you need something?” You interrupt.

“Going over cheer stuff,” Jungkook says back slowly. He stares at Jimin for a second too long before returning his gaze to you, “I just came to check on my girlfriend. I have a game today, you didn’t wish me good luck.”

You close your eyes with a wince when Jimin snorts. A warm palm on your shoulder has you opening them only to glare at the all too mirthful boy in front of you, “Let him down easy, champ.”

With a wave and wink in Jungkook’s direction, Jimin is bounding back towards the lunch table and leaving you with a migraine.

Jungkook is holding your hand and swinging it. You’re not quite sure when that happened.

“Look, Jungkook,” you begin, clearing your throat.

“Oh no.” He sighs.

“What?”

“Nothing is ever good when a girl starts out with ‘look, Jungkook'—my mom, my sister, the dean of students.” He shrugs.

“So you know what’s coming next then?” You ask hopefully.

“Are you gonna put me on academic probation?” He offers and when you shake your head he stares on, “Not gonna lie, I’m drawing a blank here. I just know whatever you’re saying is not gonna be good.”

All hope dies.

“We’re not dating.” You say gently, tugging your hand out of his. It was too big and overly warm.

Jungkook frowns, confusion wrinkling his brow and for a second you almost feel bad for him, that is until he opens his mouth.

“But you let me…” He chances a look over his shoulder before leaning into whisper harshly, “you let me finger you.”

And therein lies your problem.

You knew better—you truly did—than to let the otherwise inexperienced freshman go further than second base but in your defense you were drunk. You were drunk and he was willing and he was fucking Jeon Jungkook. You were a good person but not that good.

“Yes, Jungkook I did but that doesn’t mean I want to date you.” You explain gently.

“But why would you let me touch you if you didn’t want to date me?” He implores and you blink at him because there was no way in hell someone was this naive.

“Because I was horny and you were there.” You say honestly and to your relief there isn’t a look of pain etched on his features only mild confusion mixed in with annoyance. “Now that we’ve got that settled I have a cheer thing I have to—”

“Wait, wait!” He calls out, gripping your wrist, “but what about me?”

You sigh because no matter how innocent or inexperienced Jeon Jungkook seemed he was still a guy at the end of the day, and they all wanted one thing.

“Fine.” You rolls your eyes, “I’ll suck you off after practice but I got to get goin—”

“No. Not that,” he flushes, “I meant what about… what if I wanted to date you?”

You stare at Jungkook a beat and it’s your turn to be surprised because of all the things you expected to happen today that was the last.

“Do you…” You gulp, eyeing him warily, “have feelings for me?”

“No.” He says honestly and you deflate before glaring at him.

“Oh thank God,” you breathe before smacking his arm, “don’t go around saying shit like that. Jesus. Anyway, why would you want to go on a date with me if you don’t like me either? Does that make sense to you?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you before tugging you off to an empty corner of the cafeteria, he lowers his voice even though no ones close enough to hear. “Okay don’t look right away but do you see those guys sitting at that table next to the doo—I said don’t look!”

“Ow!” You whine, rubbing at your scalp after he gives your ponytail a hard yank. “Okay, jeez what about them?”

“They’re on my basketball team.” He informs unhelpfully and you give him a bored look.

“You don’t say?” You gasp, a hand shooting up to cover your mouth, “I couldn’t tell from their uniforms and the guy on the table, spinning the basketball, staring at us.”

Jungkook goes quiet again and you feel a headache coming on because what he made up for in looks and general athleticism he lacked in brain cells.

“Are you being sarcastic?” He frowns and what was the point if all your jabs went right over his head?

Instead, you opt for exasperation, pressing a hand to your aching temple. “What about your basketball team, Jungkook?”

“They think I’m a virgin.”

“Well are you a virgin?” You retort, thinking back to the almost painfully awful finger fuck he gifted you with last weekend.

“That’s besides the point,” he waves you off before gripping your shoulders, “I’m in college now. And a guy. Being a virgin is weird and if they find out I haven’t gone all the way I’m toast.”

“So tell them you boned me and let me get on with my life. I give you my permission, young padawan.” You give him a reassuring smack on the arm before walking away, only to be tugged back by your uniform shirt. “What now?”

“That would be great, except they’ll keep hounding me to have more sex which I’m not opposed to I just… I’m not ready yet you know?”

You blink at him, “I don’t know. I’m a slut.”

“Well pretend you get it and date me. Just for a couple weeks.” He says, “If I have a girlfriend they’ll just assume I’m getting laid on the regular and leave me alone.”

“Okay, but what about me? I actually enjoy getting laid on the regular and no offense but getting fingered by you is about as enjoyable as going to the gynecologist.” You sigh and he winces.

“Noted.” He adds dryly before cocking a brow at you, “So are you up for it?”

No!” you throw your hands up, “besides dating you could give people the wrong impression. That I’m into things like—”

“Monogamy?”

Virgins.” You correct with a roll of your eyes. “Sorry Kook, you’re just gonna have to figure shit out on yo—”

“Noona please,” he pleads desperately, hand gripping your upper arm and in all honesty you’re not a hard person to sway but Jungkook is still persistent in his pursuit. He clasps both hands under his chin before dropping to his knees desperately. He’s whining and loudly.

Loud enough to garner attention.

“Will you get up?” You hiss, “People are staring!”

“Will you say yes?” He juts his lower lip out.

“No.” You glare, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Then I’m not getting up.” He pouts.

“Because I care,” you snort, “Camp out here if you want. My answers the st—”

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” he whines and you grit your teeth in annoyance, “I’ll owe you big.”

“You’ll owe me?” You cock a brow.

“Yes,” he says desperately, “I’ll do anything.”

Anything?” You ponder and Jungkook’s stomach turns when you openly give him the once over.

“I… shit… yeah, anything.” He sighs.


Jimin doesn’t ask you what’s wrong and you don’t expect him to—you only bang things louder until he’s sighing from his spot on his bed, pausing the game he’s playing to turn to look at you.

“Is something wrong?”

He looks put out, annoyed. You don’t care.

Everything’s wrong.” You mutter, stripping off your uniform and throwing it in the dirty clothes.

You have half a mind to remember that you were still in Jimin’s room but it didn’t matter anyway, you and Jimin had long since passed the initial crush stage of your friendship slash roommate agreement—well at least you had, you were almost entirely positive Jimin felt nothing save for mild irritation for you on a good day. That coupled with the fact that he was very much gay set your worries at ease.

“Be more specific?” He sighs, disinterested.

You pause in rummaging through his clothes long enough to narrow your eyes at him, “I hate boys.”

“Good. More for me.” He retorts instantly, shooting you a warning glare when you pause on one of his good t shirts, “I’m wearing that tomorrow, the sweatshirt you’re looking for is in the back.”

You don’t even shoot him a so much as a thank you as you shimmy out of your sports bra, with your back turned to him and tug his hoodie over head. When you’re settled and warm you shoot a mischievous smile at Jimin who’s still glaring at you before—

“Don’t you—” he cut himself off with a curse when you dive under his covers anyway. Jimin seethes quietly as you nestle yourself beneath his sheets, “You know you have your own room right?”

“Don’t you miss me?” You whine before snuggling closer, much to his annoyance, he opts to pinch your side instead of shoving you off the bed completely. 

“No. Now move over if you want to stay in here.” he scoffs.

“You know I had a really shitty day,” you glare at his side profile and he doesn’t answer, only picks up the controller to un pause whatever he was playing. “it would be nice if you could be even a little bit supportive.”

“I didn’t sign up for emotional support I signed up for half on utilities and you not leaving your pad wrappers on the bathroom floor.” He mutters, still invested in his tv show.

“Jimin.”

“Don’t use that voice, I hate it.” He grunts.

“What voice?” You pout.

“You know, the voice.” He sighs, sending you a glance from the corner of his eye, “The one you use on guys to get what you want. Your baby voice, it’s annoying.”

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment and you feign indifference because Jimin never means to be hurtful, he’s only talking to you like he would any other friend… but you didn’t want to be any other friend? You weren’t sure anymore, about how you felt about him. Things were blurred because while you were sure things bordered on platonic and that mostly had to do with the fact that he was so immune to your feminine wiles (snort), you also knew you didn’t want to be treated like one of the guys or like any other fucking girl on the team, that he mostly couldn’t stand.

You wanted to be special. Special in what way, you weren’t entirely sure.

“You’re a dick.” You retort and he tears his gaze away from the screen long enough to cock a brow at you.

“You knew this upon signing the lease.” He snorts and you don’t reply because really, what was there to say. It was well known, Jimin was in fact an asshole—he didn’t like kick puppies or make orphans cry (intentionally) or anything but he was curt and to the point and you didn’t get your feelings hurt easily which is why things worked between the two of you. “Hey, did you get that playlist I sent you?”

You pause in scrolling through your phone to turn to him, “Yeah actually I did. They’re all kind of slow, did you want to use them for routine?”

Jimins hands slow on the controller but he doesn’t divert his attention this time, only hums his disagreement, “Nah, just new songs I stumbled upon I thought you’d dig. They’re good right?”

“Yeah,” you nod eagerly, “I added them to my library actually.”

“Cool.” Jimin grumbles, clearly done with the conversation and you roll your eyes.

You go on like that for a few moments because Jimins content with silence, prefers it actually over what he calls your ‘incessant chattering’ it’s one of many things he finds annoying about you—from what you can tell. He’s left almost every group chat you’re in.

You talk too much,” he says desperately after one night, a long night of drinking with your team and you’re still sending pictures. He’s in your room and his hairs disheveled and he’s shirtless and he looks delectable and annoyed and seconds away from strangling you.

“Sorry.” You squeak, tugging the blankets up past your chin and he narrows his eyes at you. You can barely make him out in your doorway, but the light from the hallway dances against the planes of chest, making you gulp.

“No you’re not,” he grumbles, throat raspy from liquor and sleep, he sticks a hand out expectantly, “hand it over.”

“W-what?” You push hair back from your face nervously and Jimin adjusts his basketball shorts before sauntering over to your bed.

“Your phone. I’m confiscating it. You’re fucking with my sleep schedule and I have a nine am tomorrow,” Jimin mutters, snatching your iPhone from you. He sends you a menacing glare all while fiddling with the device, “You don’t get to bitch if I drop you on your ass during practice. Now move in.”

“Huh?” Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline at that and Jimin is sending you a bland look, a hand pressed to his aching temple like talking to you is causing him physical pain. But he doesn’t respond only yanks the blanket from under you, making you all too aware of your lack of clothing when the bed dips beneath his weight.

“Move. In.” He enunciates, “I’m drunk as hell, tired as hell, and not up for the walk to my room.”

“It’s across the hall.” You remind him and in the darkness of your bedroom, with the pale moonlight dancing in and reflecting off the single chain Jimin always wears you’re overwhelmed by him. By his scent, his body, his withering stare when he presses a finger to your forehead.

“Sleep now.” He grumbles.

And maybe that was when it truly started, when the both of you settled down after that long night of drinking, him telling you to sleep on your stomach so you don’t choke on your own vomit, and you staring on dumbly, the beginnings of an on again off again infatuation for your roommate, your friend, that never really went away—no matter how unwilling a participant you were.

There’s a brief period of time (that you’ve made a conscious effort to block out) that you openly pined for him. There was no stumbling into the kitchen a mess, with morning breath that threatened to singe his eyebrows off if you struck up a conversation. No. If Jimin had class at nine am, you were up, with your lashes curled and your favorite tinted BB cream by seven forty five—you looked fresh faced, what a boy who hadn’t spent nearly five plus years of his life around girls with bedazzled vaginas would consider natural. But alas—

Jimin is a hairsbreadth from your face and you thank every god you could think of you woke up at the ass crack of dawn to wash your hair. His eyes narrow and he worries his lower lip before pulling back.

“You didn’t blend your neck,” he comments before grabbing his hoodie next to you and bidding you adieu.

For the first month of your crush you spend every morning in the kitchen (after of course closely inspecting your makeup under several different lightings), making him breakfast, green smoothies even. But Jimin is a health nut, on top of being an obsessive perfectionist. He preps his food the night before, likes all of his ducks in a row when he starts his morning at eight fifteen on the dot. His expression the first time you offer him turkey bacon and eggs is a cocktail of mild disgust and disinterest. 

“I’m counting macros this week.” He explains, before transferring his smoothie from the blender into a thermos. 

You tongue at your cheek before taking a bite of the ridiculously chewy meat. 

Your first Valentine’s Day with Jimin is always a memorable one, for sheer comedic relief if nothing else.

The two of you are regularly inseparable at practice, and some of it had to do with you being a fly and him base, your base, but a lot of it was because he didn’t… mesh well with others. He was too blunt, too rough around the edges and he took cheer seriously. The times Jimin spoke about himself were far and in-between, but you distantly remember him telling you that before he started doing cheer he did gymnastics competitively for a good chunk of his life. That explained a lot of things, honestly. Why he was so by the book, strict about everything from uniforms to ponytails, to diets—of all the boys on the squad, he was maybe the only one who gave a shit about stuff like that. It was because of all of that that he made a good co captain, and if it weren’t for his inability to compromise and just generally stomach other peoples presence, you were positive he would have beat you out for the captain position.

It also explained why he was so strong. The guy regularly worked out, yeah but he was like, open the pickle jar strong. And then there was his food intake which was crazy, all things considered, because he ate a lot to build muscle but it was all so healthy you couldn’t imagine anyone enjoying it. You wouldn’t lie, the first time Jimin lifted you during auditions your heart nearly beat out of your chest because he did it all with one arm and caught you effortlessly against his chest.

“Here,” Jimin says, handing you a tumbler filled with purple liquid at the end of practice, he hitches his gym bag up higher on his shoulder and waits for you to accept it. “I brought you a smoothie from home.”

“Thanks, what is it?” You ask, sniffing it and ignoring the glare Jimin shoots your way. It doesn’t smell offensive and you take a hesitant sip, “Actually this is good.”

He nods with a sheepish shrug and you try to tamp down the zoo of butterflies in your chest that are telling you that this is a sign, that Park Jimin making you a smoothie is his weird, male, health nut equivalent of chocolates and a confession. Your heart seems to gain wings at the prospect and then he ruins it like he always does because he’s Jimin and he ruins things. That’s his job title and occupation, Park Jimin, The Ruiner.

“It’s a detox smoothie actually,” he says when you’re already on your second mouthful, cheeks puffed with the berry concoction. Jimin was a lot of things, tactless was one of them, “I thought it would help with… you know. Plus, I do strength training in my free time but this partnership only works if you keep up your end. You should come to the gym with me in the mornings, you’re up anyway with like a full face of makeu—”

You shove the tumbler back at his chest before sucking your teeth at him, “I’m gonna go shower and then head home. See you there.”

Jimin frowns at your retreating figure by glancing down at the smoothie, he takes a sip for curiosity’s sake. “What’s her problem?”

The first time you see Jimin kissing a boy there’s no tell tale signs of arousal that all of mainstream media swore by. Only pure unadulterated jealousy tinged with sadness. You watch the way Jimin cups the boys jaw, the way his own jaw works in time with his lips. It’s not rushed or heated, filled with passion like a lover—it’s slow and a little timid, like the first kiss at the end of a date and your stomach turns.

You watch the two boys pull away, Jimin looking the softest you’ve ever seen. You wondered what it felt like to be the recipient of that gaze, but it wasn’t a side of him you were meant to see, or a moment meant for you, and you reminded yourself that you were intruding. You leave the hallway too quickly that day and maybe sulk for longer than was necessary in the weeks to follow, cry even, because your nineteen year old self is (gag) heartbroken. It won’t be another month of stilted conversation and failed attempts at avoidance until you’ve pushed the feeling to the back of your brain and manage to find a middle ground in your relationship with him.

“If you return my shirt with boob sweat I’m gonna use it to smother you in your sleep.” Jimin reminds and you scoff. “That’s my good shirt.”

“That was one time.” You shoot up indignantly and immediately regret it because with regionals nearing you were doing conditioning instead of regular routines and every muscle in your body was on fire from today’s practice.

Jimin sighs before getting to his knees and giving you a hard look, “Did you—”

“Before you ask whatever you’re gonna ask I came straight here after practice, showered and went to class I haven’t had time to do anything else.” You interrupt and Jimin rolls his eyes at you.

“Lay back,” he orders and you oblige immediately because as strict as Jimin was as far as diet and exercise was concerned, he considered you an extension of himself. His partner. And if you weren’t in good shape you were holding him back which is why he ignores your yells of protest when he pushes back on the leg you have pressed to his chest.

“Okay, okay, okay.” You say, slapping his arm so he would let up, “That’s enough.”

“Shut up.” He says mildly, pushing until your knee was nestled between both your chests. He slaps the back of your calf and you glare, “Straighten this.”

“Fuck off.” You grit out.

He cocks a brow at you and you regret your words when he adds more pressure.

“Jimin, fuuuuck,” you whine earnestly, a hand pressed to his chest because the pain was getting to be too much and he didn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon. He doesn’t recline right away, and you peek an eye open in time to see a look cross his face before he guides your leg back slowly with a nod.

“How’s your knee doing?” He murmurs, and you lean your head back against the pillow when he begins feeling up your leg.

As much as you hated to admit it, Jimin’s extensive athletic career as well as his major proved to be useful on more than one occasion in your house. As an athlete you could appreciate a roommate who was studying physical therapy, especially when it came to the massage aspect.

“It’s been fine these last few weeks,” you shrug, “hasn’t been giving me any problems.”

“Start wearing your knee brace again.” He says when he places one hand on your knee and the other on your ankle. You narrow your eyes when he moves it side to side, “Your knees been giving out at practice. I’ll kick your ass if you dislocate it before regionals.”

“Noted.” You scoff, but it’s more of a gasp when Jimin’s hands are on your hips, barely under his hoodie and skimming the skin just above your spandex. His face is passive all the while, nudging you up the bed.

“Move up, I’m gonna check your range of motion.” He explains and Jimin is all work and no fun. Sometimes you wonder how he can remain so disinterested, clinical at times like this when you feel like your whole body is on fire under his touch.

Your leg is back up in the air and Jimin is moving it in hesitant circles, up and down, side to side and you close your eyes, trying not to gasp everytime he presses your legs closed and tiny shockwaves of pleasure shoot straight to your clit. He never presses down long enough to evoke a reaction but you lay back and relax, enjoying what little intimacy you’re allowed with him.

Everything is good, it’s nice, relaxing, his touch is enough to leave you horny, you’ll probably have to rub one out in your room later but not enough to have you cumming right then and there. Your eyes shoot open when you feel him move in, his hand no longer resting on your leg but on the innermost of your thigh, too high up as he presses down.

Too, too high up. Too, too close to the apex of your thighs.

You cock a brow and in typical Jimin fashion he stares on blandly, cool as a cucumber sitting between your legs and forcing them open.

“Buy me a drink first?” You say a little breathlessly, and joking is your way of coping with this, him, your ego, which was sorely bruised because Park Jimin was more than immune to you and that sucked royally.

“Get your head out of the gutter.” He says, but he does it with a small smile, “If you did this on your own I wouldn’t have to do it for you.”

“It’s not as fun on my own.” You comment.

“It never is.” He teases back and it’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to flirting with him. You simultaneously revel in it and chide yourself for still being so head over hills for someone who sees you as no more than an object in his everyday life, like a lamp or the refrigerator. You’d notice if it were gone but you could always get a new refrigerator.

“Okay, I think I’m good for the night! Thanks I’ll just go back to my room an—”

A crack sounds in the room, echoing off his walls, so loud it nearly drowns out the strangled noise you make in your throat. You blink up at Jimin, equal parts shocked and turned on when he rubs the sensitive skin of your thigh, the innermost part he just slapped. Welts form under his soft palm but he doesn’t look the tiniest bit sorry, in fact, he doesn’t look anything. His expression is just as calm as collected as it was when you had first walked in. It leaves you confused, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Did you just…” You gesture between your thighs and Jimin patiently waits for you to continue as he closes your legs back up, letting you know you’re done with at home PT. “Did you just spank me?”

“Take better care of yourself and I won’t have to.” He says softly and you’re searching, searching for something, anything in his face that’ll give you even the slightest idea of what the fuck just happened. But you come up empty, even as he presses on, “Stop skipping lunch to talk to that freshman. Make healthier choices so you don’t have to do extreme diets and stop,” He grips your knee softly before staring up at you, “neglecting your health.”

You nod mutely, when he finishes because there’s nothing else to really say. Jimins been acting weird, very weird these past few days and while every fiber of your being, every natural instinct is telling you ‘he likes you! you love him, offer to suck his dick!’ the rational part of your brain quashes any hope and reminds you how well trying to pursue feelings for your roommate turned out the last time.

“I’m going to bed.” You say dumbly, blinking at him and Jimin nods, not moving to say goodbye or watch you walk out.

You press your back against his door when you leave because Park Jimin would be the death of you, but oh what a way to go.


“Look, I’m sorry okay?” Hoseok sighs, trailing after you as you re-shelf the books you were scanning. Stupid midterm paper. Stupid college.

“Hm, I’m sorry I don’t know what you’re sorry for, unless of course you’re apologizing for interrupting my studying then, I forgive you Hoseok because that’s just the kind of loving, nurturing, sweet captain I am.” You return, back still to the older boy when he rolls his eyes at you, “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“I’m quitting the squad.” Hoseok says with a finality that makes you snort.

“‘Kay. Don’t be late to practice today or I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass you won’t be able to walk much less cheer.” You say sweetly.

“I admit, it’s a bit troublesome,” Hoseok sighs.

You whirl around on him at that, eyes narrowed, “Getting your pubes caught in the sticky part of your pad is a bit troublesome—you quitting the fucking team three weeks before a competition is a lot of fucking troublesome you asshole.”

“First of all ew,” He whines something that sounds dangerously close to your name and you don’t have to turn to know he’s pouting, “Second, you know there’s more to life than cheer! I’m graduating soon and I need to focus on my studies, and start looking into a career.”

“Listen here you little bitch,” you hiss, shoving a finger in his face until Hoseok was going cross eyed, “I can smell the entire bag of marijuana you smoked on your way here. Who put you up to this? Namjoon? I’ll kick your ass, I’ll kick his ass and then whichever one of your dumb friends helped coerce you into ‘lightening your load’ before you graduate. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”

“But I want to party,” he pouts and nearly eats his words when your eye twitches, “God, you and Jimin are really a match made in heaven, huh? How are two people that are so tiny, so terrifying?”

“Hoseok, you can’t quit we have regionals and the freshman are giving me a fucking ulcer. Where am I going to find and be able to train a base in three weeks?” You implore, pressing a hand to your aching temple.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok says and he doesn’t look the least bit sorry. You debate on shoving you foot up his ass for old times sake when he pats you on the shoulder, “You’re a good cheerleader. An even better captain, I know you’ll figure it out.”

“Fuck off,” you glare, shoving a finger in his chest, “if anything weird happens to you this week, just know it’s me cursing you.”

You stand there, with your back pressed against the bookshelf for a good minute, just watching Hoseok’s retreating figure. His shoulders are sagged in relief, like he was just let from under a tremendous weight, one he turned around and perched atop your shoulders.

When you get back to your library table you’re pouting, on the verge of losing your shit in the otherwise dead silent room because why, why did bad things happen to good people? As though you weren’t already stressed from midterms, it was like you had a giant fucking sign on your forehead that said ‘hey, screw me over!’

“What is it now?” Someone hums across from you and you barely have time to register that it’s Nayeon before you’re jutting your lower lip.

And for what it’s worth, Nayeon is a good friend because she stops studying, sets her books and binders and pens aside to focus all of her attention on you. Then she listens, and listens, and listens because it’s only been three days since you’ve seen each other but it seems as though a lot has happened. By the time you’re done debriefing her, she’s staring at you, a frown marring her pretty face and her arms crossed over her chest because—

“You’re a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?” she sighs, carding hands through her hair, “Let me just… let me just see if I follow here, Jungkook the freshman, the virgin you let finger you at the party last week, he wants you to deflower him?”

“No, he doesn’t even want sex—can you believe…! He wants me to date him, so worst.” You correct, “Fake date him to get his teammates off his back because he’s fucking twelve apparently and not immune to peer pressure.”

“And your roommate, Jimin, your gay roommate,” she emphasizes the gay part and you glare at her, “you think you’re starting to… feel things for him again?”

“I mean, technically,” you put a hand out to stop her, “the feelings never really went away, but they’ve just been lying dormant like waiting for him or myself to entertain them and Nayeon, the other day, in the cafeteria he hugged me. He back hugged me. Jimin, the same person who made a six year old cry last year, and then kicked his dad’s ass. I want to die.”

“And Hoseok,” she presses a hand to her head, “the drug dealing cheerleader. He quit.”

“He’s not a drug dealer, he just smokes a lot of weed,” you roll your eyes, “his friend, Namjoon, he’s a drug dealer. I’m gonna kick his ass because he convinced Hoseok to quit the fucking team.”

“And… you have regionals in less than a month, correct?”

“Yes. So you see my problem right?” You whine.

“You have multiple problems, most of which I can’t help you with, being in love with your gay roommate ranks at the top of that list,” she sends you a sarcastic look before snapping her fingers at you, “but the Hoseok thing. I know how you can fix that. It’ll be like killing two birds with one stone.”


“This is so… lame.” Jungkook groans and you slap him upside the head before gesturing towards the rest of the squad.

“Team, I’d like you to meet our new base.” You smile tightly before patting a hand on his shoulder, and pulling something from behind your back, “This is Jungkook.”

“What’s that for?” Momo, a second year on the team frowns and you brighten at her question, bringing the glass jar to everyone’s attention.

“This,” you begin, “is negative reinforcement. Anytime he says something rude, stupid, or offensive feel free to let me know and I’ll charge him, all proceeds go towards new uniforms for the team.”

“What happened to Hoseok?”

“Hoseok decided to focus on his studies.” You say and you barely make it through the sentence before someone’s cutting you off with a snort. “Jungkook’s going to be replacing him.”

“That’s such bullshit!” Mina scoffs, “Has he ever even cheered before?”

“No but I have more than two brain cells I’m sure I can figure it out.” Jungkook retorts and you press a hand to your aching temple, resisting the urge to argue his declaration of having even more than one struggling fucking brain cell. 

“Five dollars.” You seethe and Jungkook only challenges your stare for a moment before he’s reaching in his back pocket for his wallet, shoving a bill in. You cock a brow at him. He curses you before putting in another dollar.

“What’s going on over here?”

It’s a natural response, almost second nature by now, the goosebumps, the heat in the pit of your belly, the chill at the base of your spine. You should be a little more put out over the response Jimin evokes, even after all this time but you couldn’t force yourself to care. Instead you sigh.

“Jimin, this is Jungkook. You two have met before. He’s going to be filling in for Hoseok from here on out.” You explain and brace yourself because Jimin is a lot of things. Complacent isn’t one of them. He doesn’t settle for anything short of perfect and one look at Jungkook has him straightening his shoulders and eyeing you like he’s about to throw you out a window.

“Who says?” Jimin challenges and it’s your turn to cock a brow at him, hands planted firmly on your hips.

“Me, the captain.” You shoot back.

“Did he even audition?” Jimin retorts and you roll your eyes at him.

“Audition for what? It isn’t exactly like we have troves of fucking college kids lined up to fill the spot.” You argue.

“You’re cut.” Jimin says, ignoring you and sneering down his nose at Jungkook.

And Jungkook, for all his complaints and the bitch fit he put up the entire way you had dragged him to the field, didn’t take well to being told what to do. Especially by assholes. Correction, especially by assholes in a matching fucking tracksuit.

“Weird. My girlfriend, the captain,” cue audible gasp from over dramatic cheerleaders, “says otherwise.”

You press a hand to your forehead with a visible shudder because where did this guy find his material? So corny.

“Your girlfriend?” Jimin laughs, and turns his head to peer over at the bleachers before raising a brow at you. You squirm under his intense scrutiny, “So you’re dating the kid?”

“I mean… we’re not not dating.” You mutter and yelp when Jungkook pinches your side.

“What does that even mean?” Jimin implores.

“Like, we’re not like boyfriend and girlfriend it’s just like sometimes he waits for me outside my class and we go to see the newest movies and stuff together and maybe he’ll buy me like lunch on the way and like I don’t know kiss me or hold my hand but not like in a boyfriend way, he’s not my boyfriend.” You rush out and when you glance back up the two boys are staring at you incredulously.

“What exactly is your definition of boyfriend—anal? That sounds like maybe the only thing you haven’t done with him.” Jimin rolls his eyes at you when you slap his chest. He could at least act like it hurt.

“So anyway, let’s start practice!” You clear your throat, pushing past both of them and towards the middle of the field, “Pair up and get started on your stretches!”

Jimin and Jungkook glare at each other even after everyone begins stretching, speeding up your already impending headache.

“I don’t like you.” Jimin comments mildly.

Jungkook snorts at that.

“I’m quivering. Your tracksuit really evokes a sense of fear in a guy.” He rolls his eyes before sneering, “You look like Vector from Despicable Me.”

“Okay, that’s enough. I’ve had it with you two and your dick measuring contest.” You hiss, getting in between either of them and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Bet I’d win.” Jungkook sniffs, “Everytime.”

“Yeah?” Jimin tongues at the inside of his cheek, the way he sizes Jungkook up makes the younger boy squirm, “Wanna find out after this?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to argue before closing it again—he does this a few more times before squinting his eyes and cocking his head to the side at the older boy. “That got really gay, really fast.”

Jungkook turns to look at you, pointing a finger at Jimin before, “Is he—”

“Jar, Jungkook.” You exasperate.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to.” You hiss.

“Fine, homoerotic, is that the politically correct term?” He sighs and you clench your hands at your sides in an attempt to not strangle him.

Not in front of witness.

“Stop talking.” You put a finger up to silence him and then turn your attention to Jimin, “Let’s start practice, yeah? We can be mature about this?”

“Matures my middle name.” Jimin seethes.


As it is, mature is not Jimin’s fucking middle name, it wasn’t even his stripper name because between the jabs he had been making at Jungkook’s inability to pick up on the workouts as quickly, or the way he would send the younger boy a pointed look whenever he wasn’t as flexible as the other guys on the team you were about five minutes from strangling him.

“Why can’t I be her partner?” Jungkook argues at one point when Jimin immediately grabs your arm for stretches.

“Because you’ll fuck around and throw her back out and then I’ll kill you.” Jimin says politely before yanking you closer to him. His movement is only slightly halted when Jungkook reaches out to grab your other arm and your glancing between the two of them wildly.

“It’s not fucking rocket science I’m sure she can tell me what to do.” Jungkook scoffs, tugging on your arm.

“I’ve been her partner for three fucking years, if you want to look up someone’s skirt do it on your free time or pair up with one of the other freshman on the team, you’re wasting my time.” Jimin grits out.

“Why can’t you pair up with one of the freshman on the team, if you’re so experienced doesn’t it make sense if noona helps me instead of you? I also need some experienced help.” Jungkook enunciates.

“Fine.” Jimin says, letting go of your arm and making you stumble, he cocks a brow at Jungkook, jaw clenched, “get on your back and spread your legs I’m your new partner.”

You and Jungkook stare at each other for a beat before turning to openly gawk at Jimin, who was sporting an expression that told you he was bored with the entire conversation and had been tired of Jungkook five minutes ago.

“Take your pick,” Jimin shrugs, “it’s either one of the freshman or me. Personally, I can stretch you out real good—”

“Okay stop.” You say finally, pressing a hand to either boys chest, you level Jimin with an exasperated expression, one that he pointedly ignores before turning to Jungkook, “I’m going to partner with him today, Jungkook, the other girls are really helpful and if you have any questions you can ask me but I don’t think it’s a good idea to try and deviate from routine. Me and Jimin have been working together for a lot longer and it’ll take both of us to be able to incorporate you into the flow of things. It’s just easier this way.”

Jimin shoots the younger boy a smug look, one you want to smack off his face because despite the rush of butterflies Jimin’s current possessive nature was giving you, you knew it was only because he didn’t want Jungkook around. He didn’t want you injured because you were just a stepping stone towards his real goal which was essentially regionals. It sucked and was kind of dick-ish but you knew this about Jimin from the get go, he had never pretended otherwise or came to you under false pretenses. Jimin had a very one-tracked mind and it was currently stuck on the aforementioned competition your team faced.

“Stop it.” You sigh and Jimin raises a brow at you, “You know what you’re doing. You’re egging him on an—unf.”

You wither him with a glare when he positions you to get a better seat between your legs. “You were saying?”

You were really beginning to hate stretching. Especially with Jimin.

“You’re little games not cute and it’s making things difficult for m—shit.” You curse when he presses back on your leg until one knee was pressed against your shoulder.

“Should we work on your flexibility next?” Jimin asks and he’s obnoxiously close to you, his cool breath fanning over your face, but your focus was on his lips. Your throat goes dry when he licks them, his voice lowering an octave, “Or should we do that later? When we’re alone?”

His questions hits you like a punch to the gut and you’re suddenly choking because that almost sounded flirtatious but when you glance up to try and get a read on Jimin’s expression, he’s impassive, unfazed by his double entendre.

“W-What?” You stammer, shoving at his chest until the pressure on your leg gives. Jimin blinks at you curiously.

“We might not have enough time, we could do it at the apartment?” He offers innocently, only Jimin was about as innocent as Satan and you didn’t buy his raised eyebrows and saucer eyes.

A sigh leaves your lips as yourself down on the grass. Tired. So tired.


“Since this discussion has long since been put off,” you sigh before plopping yourself down on an available seat of grass, “I’m opening the floor. I hear that you all want new uniforms so Jimin and I have decided that we—”

“Not me,” Jimin corrects, “just her. If it were up to me you’d all be wearing trash bags to better suit your shitty performance.”

Jimin and I,” you begin again, “have decided to take suggestions and if you guys are really dead set on this then we can work on fundraising too.”

“The current uniforms are fine, the only ones who want to change it are the freshman!” Kihyun calls from the back, garnering more than a few glares and making Jimin snicker.

“They are not fine. They’re gray.” Eunha chimes in, “Like prison cells. Gray is why prisoners are unhappy.”

“Really? I always thought it was the loss of freedom and free manual labor,” Jimin snorts, ignoring when you slap his chest.

“I think new uniforms would be a good look.” Jungkook says, leaning back to inspect the back of your thighs, “I say we take the hem up an inch… or five.”

“Ten dollars.” You say without blinking and Jungkook sulks.

“What about black uniforms? It’s a flattering color! And we could go with gray for an accent so we don’t stray too far from school colors.”

“That's…” You begin hesitantly, “not a bad idea, actually.”

“Oh! Long sleeve tops! I’ve been looking them up online and they look so much more… Professional? A lot of the top schools are going for long sleeve instead of sleeveless.” Eunha offers.

“Maybe if you all started practicing like a top school, we’ll consider it.” Jimin scoffs and groans echo through out the huddle.

“Draw up a design. Get it approved by us and coach and while you’re at it, start thinking of fundraising ideas to pitch.” You say, rising to your feet and dusting the grass from your bottom, “If it’s good and everything works out maybe we’ll be able to get new uniforms before regionals.”

“Practice is over. Go home and stretch, hydrate and ice if you need to assholes, I’m tired of you coming to me with injuries that could have been avoided.” Jimin seethes and you roll your eyes because you think, for a moment, beneath all the bravado he actually gives a shit about the kids.

It isn’t until you’re hitching your gym bag up your shoulder and swapping your tennis shoes out for slippers that you feel Jungkook’s weight being pressed onto your shoulders.

“Can I help you?” You sigh, shaking off his grip and making him whine.

“What the hell was that?” He glowers, gesturing towards the field and when you stare at him blankly he elaborates, “That practice was worst than literally any training I’ve done for basketball—off season included.”

“Welcome to cheerleading, bitch.” You say, slapping him on the shoulder. You turn to leave, and press fingers to your closed eyes when your movement is halted by his grip on your wrist. “What?”

“Can you… you know… help with that thing you offered earlier?” He coughs, rubbing the back of his neck and you eye him incredulously.

“The blowjob?”

“What? No! No! I meant… the routines. It’s just… that… you know Jimin doesn’t like me too much and the stuff we were going over earlier was complicated but I can’t ask him and I don’t want to look like an idiot I just,” Jungkook sighs and it takes every bit of self control not to snap at him, even going as far as to remind yourself that he was doing you a favor. Even if it was only out of debt. He was trying to help.

Which is why you throw your bag down with an exasperated sigh and slip your shoes back on, “Let’s practice a bit then.”


Somewhere down the line you had just assumed, no, hoped that either of the boys would get used to each other. At least enough to be civil. You didn’t need them to be glued at the foreskin but you did need them to not give you a migraine whenever you were forced to be in the same room as them.

“This is shared space. That means no boyfriends after eleven o’clock,” Jimin hissed after one entire evening of Jungkook lounging on your couch, eating a bag of Cheetohs and getting crumbs everywhere. “So get whatever breed of cockroach this is, out of my living room.”

“He’s not my—”

Jungkook cuts you off with a withering glare, pausing the newest episode of Bones to speak around a mouthful of chips, “Noona, can we go over the routine again this weekend? I think I’m starting to forget. I wouldn’t want to choke on competition day. That would suck.”

His threat was so apparent that Jimin’s lips thin, making a move towards the younger boy, if it weren’t for your grip on his upper arm. “Jeon Jungkook, do you wan—”

“Let’s go to my room.” You interrupt, tugging the younger boy up by the wrist and dragging him the rest of the way.

“What was that for?” Jungkook grumbles, rubbing at his wrist as though it hurt, as if he wasn’t a whole foot taller and a person heavier than you.

“Stop pissing off my roommate.” You demand, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh come on! I’m not even doing anything.” Jungkook glares, “It’s not my fault he has a hard on for you!”

“Trust me when I say he doesn’t,” you snort and glare when Jungkook leans back against your headboard, completely ignoring you, “Besides, all of this was not apart of our deal. Get out of my house.”

“He totally does,” Jungkook argues, disregarding your earlier statement and making himself comfortable under your throw, “I mean, I know girls have a hard time admitting they’re wrong but trust me, you’re wrong about this one. A guy doesn’t get pissed like that unless you’re fucking with a girl he’s into.”

“A normal guy doesn’t,” you correct, “Jimin likes his space. You are intruding on that, in more than one sense.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, but I’m telling you I’m 100% right.” Jungkook shrugs, reaching over


“He’s wrong.” Nayeon sighs, head rested on her palm as you occupy the seat across from her. Cutting into important study time, again. “Well, not entirely wrong.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You crinkle your nose at her and she rolls her eyes.

“He has a hard on for someone, it’s just not you.” Nayeon whispers and your eyes widen.

“No!” You gasp.

“Yes.”

“No!”

Yes.”

“No!”

Yes!” she says, slamming her hands down on the table, and wincing when people several tables over turn to gawk. “I mean think about it. You said Jimins gay right? And that he shows no emotion save for mild disinterest where you’re concerned but suddenly Jeon Jungkook comes along and he’s irritable, territorial, emotional? Jimin is one of those guys, you know?”

“I don’t.” You shake your head, but all your attention is focused on her, you’re hanging on her every word.

“He doesn’t know how to properly express his emotions so he’s lashing out.” she explains slowly.

And it’s like everything suddenly makes sense in the universe, all the pieces click together and your heart feels as though a fat man has just situated himself on your chest. Because, did Jimin really like Jungkook? Were you really going to be forced to sit back and watch him pine for another man, again? Then there was the more jealous part of you, the ugly emotions that lurked beneath the surface that you weren’t ready to address. Thoughts like, do you lie to him? You hadn’t intended on keeping the entire Jungkook thing a secret because if you were being honest with yourself you thought Jimin might try to throw him off the nearest balcony if he knew you weren’t actually dating him. But the more you thought about it the more you wanted to keep it to yourself and it wasn’t exactly lying, was it?

“You’re making the face.” Nayeon sighs.

“What face?” You frown.

“The one you make when you’re having a heated, internal monologue over your skewed moral compass.” She explains.

“I was not…” you lie before plopping your head down in defeat.

You totally were, but Nayeon is polite enough not to call you out on it.


If you had to rank your to do list for the day, telling Jimin that you weren’t actually dating Jungkook so that your roommate who you had been openly pining for for the last three years could swoop in was ranked at the bottom. Right above dying and going to another party with Hoseok’s weird friends. Though if you were being honest with yourself, you’d take death happily at this point, it sounded a whole hell of a lot less painful. Especially when just trying to squeeze yourself into Jimin’s schedule was a pain in the ass.

If he wasn’t on campus, juggling seven classes to complete school on time he was at cheer practice, which wasn’t a prime place to tell him because Jungkook—and if he wasn’t at cheer practice he was at the gym, or asleep and you’d try waking Jimin up exactly once in your entire time knowing him and it was one too many. The guy wasn’t exactly a morning person.

So the gym it was.

“I’m surprised you actually wanted to come.” Jimin muses, fixing your posture before switching out your kettlebell for a heavier one. You try not to glare.

“I figure,” you grunt when he lets go, leaving you to manage the ten pound weight on your own, a small feat when you’ve already been there for thirty minutes and your arms felt like jelly, “you were right. I wouldn’t be a good captain if I started neglecting myself.”

“Hmm..” He hums, and pressed a hand to your exposed belly, “suck this in.”

“So I was thinking,” you pant and Jimin quirks a brow at you.

“A scary prospect.” He murmurs.

“I was thinking,” you begin again, before dropping the weight completely and turning to face him, “about me and Jungkook…. and me and you.”

“Did I say you could stop?” He implores and you roll your eyes at him before switching arms, “What do you and Jungkook have to do with you and me?”

“You’re my roommate.” You grunt, heaving up with all your might. “And you hate him.”

“You’re not wrong about either of those things,” he agrees, “but I’d like to reiterate my first question of what do either of those things have to do with each other?”

“I just…” You try to get the words out but your muscles are on fire and your chest is tight, so instead you throw the weight down with a grunt before turning to him, “Do you like Jungkook?”

“What?” He blinks at you. “You just said yourself I hated him.”

“Yes, okay I know but you know sometimes you say one thing and you mean another.” You shrug.

Jimins expression remains bland, emotionless.

“You’re asking me if I have… feelings for your boyfriend, correct? That’s what we’re getting at here?” Jimin asks bluntly and you shrink under his intense scrutiny.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you say quietly.

A long silence follows your statement, in which Jimin stares at you, just stares and you cow under his gaze because well, it’s Jimin and he’s pretty fucking intimidating. You look anywhere but at him, the airconditioner, the weights, the treadmill, all while still able to feel him boring holes into the side of your head and you wonder maybe, if you had over stepped. If you had spoken too soon because granted you and Jimin were pretty close but clearly not close enough because to this day he still never really talked about the whole liking boys things or even relationships in general. It made you wonder just how many people Jimin had dated, if he had asked them out, if he was softer, sweeter or—

“You’re really dense you know that?” Jimin shakes his head at you before walking over to the weights, leaving you there slack jawed and a little bit annoyed.

“Hey! Wait up!” You call after him, but he doesn’t, unsurprisingly. “I didn’t mean it like that I was only asking because I wanted to tell you that—”

“Did you watch that new clown movie?” Jimin asks suddenly and he nearly gives you whiplash with how quick he’s jumping topics. You open your mouth to argue, to tell him you were only asking so you could tell him you and Jungkook weren’t really dating but the glint in his eye tells you not to tread there. He’s done talking about it, and by effect so are you.

“No I haven’t.” You sigh, your body slumping in defeat.

“Good,” he grunts, pulling down on the weights before turning his attention to you. And you applaud yourself because you don’t keel over at the sight of a sweaty, sleeveless Park Jimin doing reps on the pull down machine, veins bulging and muscles flexed. He sends you a look that tells you he knows exactly what you’re thinking and makes your back straighten indignantly. “Did you hear what I just said?”

“The clown movie.” You repeat proudly, only for Jimin to roll over and flick your forehead.

“Yes genius, but after that,” he sends you a grin, one you’re not used to seeing. He’s teasing you, but it doesn’t annoy you quite as much as usual, “I said let’s go see it. I figure you owe me after that insult you pulled.”

“Wh—” Your mouth opens and the closes before pointing a finger in his direction, “I didn’t mean it like that, if you would just let me explain—”

“Well I took it that way, you’re the only one stupid enough to date that overgrown toddler. And besides, it’s a simple question. Yes or no?” He frowns and you sigh.

“I mean… I don’t really have anything else to do this weekend so..”

“Good to know I’m a last resort.” He snorts and you hide a flush because if only he knew.

And really, if you looked at the entire thing, your situation with Jimin in retrospect it was truly all your fault. Because no matter how much you claim to have both your feelings and heart in check there is no such thing as control when it comes to love. And so you get your hopes, let yourself hope for a moment, with Jungkook’s earlier words replaying like a soft lull. When really you should’ve taken the idiots advice with a grain of salt. Or just not at all.

I Think I’m In Love With You

Author: ceruleanbucky

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

WARNINGS: SMUT, cursing, oral (male and female receiving), UNPROTECTED SEX, fingering, sexual tension, fluff, and overall sin.

A/N: guy’s I’ve updated twice in like a week and a half what is happening?!?! I mean, it’s not necessarily bad. Also, this fic is hella long, and I;m not going to lie, I’m really proud of it. Hope you guys like it! Part two of “Seven Minutes In Heaven” is coming next week.


You wake up with a start, breathing heavily and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You tried to recall what it was you were dreaming about, but to no avail. You eventually give up, thinking that it was another nightmare.

You glance at your alarm clock, wondering about the time. Seeing that you have two more hours to sleep, you gladly roll over and go back to sleep.

When your alarm goes off, you feel even more tired than you were earlier. You still manage to drag yourself out of bed, and start your day. It’s then when you smell the bacon, and the coffee. Perking up at the idea of a good breakfast, you put on some more decent pyjamas, and head to the kitchen. Most people are still asleep, seeing as the sun is only just rising, so you wonder who is in the kitchen. You step in, and find Bucky cooking up a storm.

“Sad, or mad?” You ask as you walk in, knowing it’s one of the two. He looks at you with confusion, so you rephrase.

“Are you cooking because you’re sad, or because you’re pissed off? Because I know you, Bucky, and it’s only one of those two.” You smirk at your friend, earning a smirk back.

“Neither actually.” He side-eyes, adding to your curiosity.

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Mouth o’ Mine

Harry X Reader: Angst, smut

In which Harry’s no good with his words but he sure is good with his mouth.

Request? Yes:

some harry face sitting action maybe?

Author’s note: This is a continuation of “Mess o’ Mine.” I would suggest reading that first, if you haven’t already. I thought this was gonna be the end but then I fucked up so… there’s also a part 3. Hope you enjoy! I did!

Part 1: Mess o’ Mine // Part 3: Mind o’ Mine


You’ve been running through the events that have occurred, confused at the escalation and the outcome. No issues have been resolved, and there wasn’t really a conversation or discussion. You don’t know any more than you did when you heard Harry singing your poems. Has he used your writing in more songs on his album?  Has he read your whole journal? God, you hope not. One poem is bad enough.

Harry hasn’t been around, hasn’t tried calling for the two weeks since he showed up on your doorstep. You’ve flipped the channel whenever he shows up on your television and scrolled at record speed when he’s popped up on your social media feeds. Maybe you should feel relieved and cleansed of his toxicity, but you don’t. Instead, you feel a little broken, like your stomach is splintering into pieces, and your mind still feels split open. Not only that, but you can smell him, feel the weight of him on top of you, taste the foreign flavor of his mouth. This isn’t what you need.

A whole other wave of confusion has rolled over you in terms of your relationship with Harry, if there still is one. The two of you have crossed a line without any prior thought or contemplation. Years upon years of friendship have been threatened, and you’re not even sure how it happened. Why did he kiss you? How did the two of you end up in bed, naked between the sheets? If you were confused about it before, trying to figure things out has only worsened your introspection.

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boredom be damned - peter parker

Originally posted by tomhollandisdaddy

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary:  Prompt #2: “You’re hot when you’re angry.”

All Peter wanted to do was get his homework done before adventuring into the night, but Y/N walks in and turns his study session into a flush session.

Requested: yes @myfriendmagislit

Warning: slight language

Here’s another request for #2! So excited to write this bc this user is the og:) hope you enjoY!!! This is also kinda long so oops lol and I HOPE YOU LIKE IT !!:-) @myfriendmagislit

MASTERLIST <———————-

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Were you supposed to be on your way to Peter’s right now? No. Did you tell Peter you were on your way to him right now? No.

You were bored as hell, it was as simple as that. You tried to entertain yourself in numerous ways, even attempting to do your pre-scheduled homework for tomorrow night. But that put your state of mind into greater boredom. So, you decided you would carry your bored, sorry ass all the way three blocks to Peter’s apartment. It’s not that you only did this when you were extremely bored, you did almost every day. It just turns out that today, Peter didn’t mention to you anything about working on homework or hanging out for the night. This surprised you to an extreme length, due to the fact you and Peter were stuck like glue all day, every day.

So, you being the nosy ass you were, you decided to investigate. Which worked out perfectly because you were bored as well! Of course your sneakiness did play a part in your feet carrying you to Peter’s that night, but it wasn’t only that. And it wasn’t just the boredom.

Maybe it was the pulsing excitement that ran through your veins every time Peter would run up to you with good news about his exciting double life. Or maybe it was the way your heart grew heavy in your chest when Peter’s lean, muscled body would sit closely next to you as you worked on homework, the heat radiating off his frame to hit yours. Or it might be just spending time with your best friend—correction, beautiful best friend, that caused your feelings to intensify as you got older. Maybe it was all of those things and more, that caused your mind to shift your boredom to Peter.

You admitted these intense feelings a while ago, your instinct immediately knowing your affection for the brown eyes, sweet smiling boy as soon as you laid your eyes on him ten years ago. Your friendship blossomed, consisting of ever lasting laughs and good times, it was what everyone dreamed of in a relationship.

The only problem was, the feeling was only one sided. To your dismay, they were extremely one sided. Your friends would constantly say otherwise, swearing that he looked at you the exact way you gazed at him, but you never saw it. You knew they were just trying to make you feel better. Especially due to the fact Liz Allen was someone who constantly popped up in conversations between you and Peter. This obviously made you feel instant loss and regret. But if Peter was happy, you were happy.

You slowly let your yearning thoughts of Peter vanish before arriving at Peter’s door. You sigh, grabbing the key underneath the mat Aunt May had told you about and open the door, the silence hitting you. You shut the door slowly, walking through the living room area, searching for Peter in the so far vacant house. As no sign of Peter approaches, you walk to his bedroom door, knowing that he’d be in there. Your knuckles hit lightly against the white door, shoving one hand  in your side jacket pocket and the other holding your thermos with water as you wait for the door to open.

You hear the jiggle of the door knob and and look up, seeing a wondrous sight that made your eyes look everywhere place in the world besides Peter’s eyes.

“Oh, hey! What are you doing here?” he questioned kindly, quirking his head to the side at your sudden appearance at his door. You tried to remember to breath as your eyes came in contact with a very shirtless, very ripped, and very hot Peter standing before you. Clutching your cup tightly,  your eyes lingered on his sculpted abs as your mouth stood agape at the sight before you.

Thank god for boredom. What would you without it?

“Y/N?” his voice quickly snapped your dirty thoughts of him out of your mind, disrupting everything good in this world. Y/E/C meets a playful brown as your mouth snaps shut, shaking your head vigorously as you leap out of a hazed state.

Almost breathlessly you rush out, “Oh! I-I was just really bored. Needed something to do,” you finish, shrugging your shoulders at your lousy interpretation of boredom.

He raised his eyebrows, opening the door farther for you to enter. You took note of his right muscle flexing at the stretch of his arm before he spoke, “Okay. Yeah, I’m just trying to get my homework done. Tony asked me to do something when I got done, and May’ll kill me if I leave without finishing it.”

You shook your head as a sign of understanding, noticing his seemingly stressed state as you sat down on his bed. He shut the door, turning towards you with his hands on his naked hips, “But yeah you can hang here, I’m just gonna finish the assignment for Algebra. You know how picky Ms. Roberts’ can be,” he chuckled lightly, smiling in your direction.

“Oh and those papers next to you are the chemistry homework, if you need to see it.“

You nodded, a close mouthed smile adorned your lips at his sweet gaze. He sighed before sitting down at his desk, continuing his work, leaving you there.

Is this a fucking joke? Is he seriously not going to put on a shirt? He’s never done this before! But, would you want him to? The view from here is fucking incredible. Boredom be damned.

Your eyes once again scaled his half naked body, but this time it was the back view you got to see. The lamp accompanied his brain in helping him finish his work, the remnants of the light shone on his back muscles. You felt your mouth open once again as you carved the muscles with your eyes, craving to run your fingers over every curve of his body. His bangin’ body was another added bonus to Peter Parker. His sweet smile, incredible personality, and extraordinary intelligence were the major factors that made you fall for him. But this, fuck. This was part of the premium package you didn’t know you had signed up for.

You dazedly watched his shoulder move with arm as he sketched the answer quickly on his paper, and sometimes bring his arm up and run his fingers through his ruffled brown locks. You suddenly remembered the drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, that had probably been there for minutes. You reached your arm up rapidly, attempting to wipe the drool silently and sneakily.

Well, that plan failed.

Because as soon as your hand hit the corner of your mouth, your elbow also hit your thermos, knocking it over and open, all over Peter’s chemistry homework that was lying next to you on his bed.

Fuck.

Eyes widened, your heart rate picked up as you made eye contact with the now soaking wet papers lying sloppily on his bed. A gasp emitted from your throat at the sight of the black ink spreading all over the drenched papers. ruining it even more. Well, your gasp awoke Peter from his intense gaze on his work to quickly looking behind him. His eyes grew at the sight of you directed to the now wet papers and thermos lying on top of them. Your mouth agape, you dared to look at Peter’s gaze hitting you like a brick wall.

He ran over to his ruined work, fingers picking up the wet paper, his gaze flashing from the homework to your guilty Y/E/C eyes staring deeply into his own, "Y/N WHAT THE HELL!”

You gaping lips barely stuttered out a response as you reached over and picked up the thermos, “P-Peter I’m so sorry! It was an accident I swear!” you rushed out, throwing the empty thermos to the ground before yanking the remaining papers off his bed and throwing them in the trash can next to you.

“Y/N THIS HOMEWORK TOOK ME FOREVER ARE YOU KIDDING ME. I WAS SO CLOSE TO BEING DONE! I CAN’T BELIEVE…”

Your eyes shut off instantly as Peter’s voice grew weak and strong at the same time, defeat yet anger taking over his demeanor. But, instead of listening to his rant about your previous actions, you watched his arms point from you to the papers, his bicep flexing every moment he stretched them. His eyebrows furrowed and raised at your gaze just staring at him like he’s speaking gibberish. But, you were noticing his arm and neck veins popping out at the stress in his voice and your insides turned gooey, his state turning you on a lot.

“… Mr. Stark needs me! He finally asked me to do something for once and I  was so ready! Now May won’t let me go! Jesus Y/N, could you of been a little more careful? You-”

Your mind shut off his anger towards you, clouding with scandalous thoughts you’ve never thought of before. This caused your thoughts and apparently brain to shut down as you interrupted his rant.

“You’re hot when you’re angry.”

Oh my god. Those words did not just come out of your mouth. What the fuck are you thinking?! Holy shit he thinks you’re some creep-

“W-What did you just say?” Peter questioned, chest slowly deflating from his previous state. You felt your cheeks sprout bright red as his figure inched closer to yours. Your brain finally wanted to work again, your eyes peeking up from staring intently at the floor after your previous comment. His nerves rose immediately, realizing your thoughts on him.

“W-What? I didn’t say-”

“Yes you did. What did you say?” now Peter’s soft brown eyes were gazing intently in yours, his own cheeks matched yours, both flushed and embarrassed. His heart raced at your sudden exposed feelings towards him, and he couldn’t of been happier.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, biting your lip in guilt as your eyebrows furrowed, “I really didn’t mean to say that. I meant to s-say t-that you were scary when you’re angry, not h-hot. Not that you aren’t hot when y-you’re angry, because you are, obviously I mean look at you! O-Oh my god, I’ll just shut up!” you hollered, an extremely nervous chuckle sprang from your throat, attempting to cover up your immense awkwardness.

Peter’s cheeks flushed even more as he heard it roll off your pretty lips once again, a smile played across his own. His eyes sparkled at your red cheeks staring at the floor. He stepped forward slightly, his head daringly leaned towards your ear, his own nervousness growing per second.

Your heart beat sped at his closeness as his lips brushed your tinted-pink ear, his hot breath whispering against your heated skin, “Maybe I should make you angry sometime.”

And you’re pretty sure you died right then and there.

here are a bunch of AMAZING fics I’ve enjoyed and loved reading throughout the month of august. I recommend that you read these great fics in september, if you haven’t already!! also check out the HL Summer Fic Exchange!

(all fics with a star are my favorites and if there are two stars then it was a favorite favorite)


1. How Far We’ve Come 32k

“This is Harry Styles,” Chiron offers.

He’s beautiful. His eyes are a stunning green, the color of new foliage. The new kid’s limbs are long and lanky—he looks extremely uncomfortable and uncoordinated. Louis internally smirks to himself, guessing the kid probably won’t be too skilled with a sword, or a bow, or anything sharp, most likely. His hair falls to his shoulders in sets of loose, brown curls. The color is rich and luscious, resembling soil so much that it looks like flowers could sprout from his hairline at any moment. But Louis’ eyes are stuck on his soft looking lips, pink as flower petals and slightly parted as his eyes scan the horizon of the camp.

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Harry.”

2. It’ll All Come Up Roses 4k *

Louis was leaning against the railing of the bridge, looking down at the water completely lost in thought when he heard someone approach the bridge from the side that he came from. Glancing up, he noticed Harry walking towards him, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, and seemingly lost in thought. Louis shifted his weight onto his other foot and stood up properly, watching quietly as Harry walked past him. Louis opened his mouth. He wanted to say something to Harry to break the silence, or at least to get him to notice him standing there against the bridge railing - but the words got stuck in Louis’ throat, and he snapped his mouth shut, going back to staring down at the water mindlessly instead. All the while, trying hopelessly to figure out what the fuck he’s doing with his life. Harry kept walking, and soon Louis was once again left alone to his thoughts.

Or the one where Louis really doesn’t hate his neighbor who keeps waking him up at the crack of dawn. Ft magic, Liam, Niall, and Zayn barely being mentioned, Harry and his fucking motorcycle, a date and a kiss.

3. Freeze This Moment in a Frame and Stay Like This 5k

Harry (not so) secretly crushes on the cute footie player and fills pages with sketches of him.

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This prompt was sitting in my massive page of notes, and I don’t know what message it came from, but it was next in line to be written, so!

Neil would be worried that Andrew was cheating (even though he never would) and Andrew would have to reassure him.


There is a winter inside of Neil that he hadn’t had time to prepare for, like he’s living in a summer home that doesn’t know what to do with cold weather other than bow its head and take the damage. 

He’s never been jealous before. He’s never been so willing to kill someone who hasn’t killed anybody first.

He looks up from the breathe in breathe out of day to day life and Andrew is there like the respirator he’s hooked into. If someone looks at Andrew, Neil feels it like a hitch in the machinery of his breathing — what if Andrew looks back? What if he gets enough distance from the bad things in his life that he realizes Neil is just another bad thing in disguise? What if he understands, as Neil does, that he deserves someone who isn’t violent and shaky and dishonest by nature?

He takes Marshall down to the floor of the court, hard. His head spills back in such a way that Neil can tell he’s been concussed, brain pitched back against skull. He scrabbles with Neil’s wrists but Neil pins his hands down on his own throat, pushing in just so. Marshall’s hands flex away from his windpipe. He thinks his own face might be screwed up into a snarl but he’s too numb to tell.

“Did you fuck him?”

Whatthe fuck, Josten, no, do you think he would let me—“

A lift and a slam back into the floor, and Marshall gurgles. “I didn’t ask if he let you. I asked if you fucked him.”

“No, no, I didn’t, Neil, come on.” His voice is garbled, Neil’s hands on his hands on his throat are a sweaty stack. “I know you’re together,” he says quietly, “and I wasn’t… I mean I flirt—I hit on everyone.”

“Not him,” Neil says icily. His fingers curl, Marshall makes a small, wet sound. He thinks about the way that Andrew let Marshall sit next to him on the bench. Neil had been playing, and he’d seen Andrew’s mouth move, talking to another teammate for the first time since they’d signed together. Marshall had thrown his head back and laughed.

Neil had taken a ball to the abdomen and reeled into another striker, been shoved back, started a slurry of violence that ended in a yellow card. When Andrew finally looked at him, it had been with disappointment.

Neil blinks and feels the padding of Marshall’s gear under his thighs, the wheezing rise of his chest. He lets go of his neck and he coughs and gasps.

“You can’t—“ he tries. “He wouldn’t want—“ He hates the ugly way he’s trying to convince himself out loud, the tremor in his voice. “He didn’t come home until morning. He smelled like your shitty menthols.”

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Sharing Is Caring

Originally posted by knightlley


Pairing: Jeff Atkins x Reader

Request: “Hey! Can you write a JeffxReader? Where the reader is Clay sister (and have a secret crush on Jeff), someday she was going to sleep in Hanna’s house, but for some reason she didn’t stay to sleep and when she go home she find Jeff slepping in her bed. You can choose how it ends. Thank you! :D”

Words: 1.247

A/N: I am happy that I received a Jeff imagine! Although I didn’t want to leave Hannah alone, because I can imagine the reader being on the tapes after because of it. Yup, I am a little bit paranoid. Sorry. Anyways, I hope you like it and I would be grateful if you send other requests!
Thank you.

- G. x

Link: Part 2

Warning: (Y/H/C) is Your Hair Colour.


“Oh my God, you seriously like Jeff Atkins?” Hannah exclaimed excitedly and energetically as she knew the secret you’ve been keeping for years.

“Who wouldn’t like him?” You stated as if it was normal to like Jeff. Well, he was good looking, kind and funny. He had the characteristics you were looking for a boy and you knew that he was the one when you met him.

“Aw, I hope he likes you back.” Hannah honestly said as she played with your (Y/H/C) hair while you both sat on her comfortable double bed. You decided to have a sleepover because it has been awhile since you last spent time together. She was one of your close friends and you loved her presence.

“Well, he’s older than me and I am out of his league.” You shrugged your shoulders as you felt a little bit down for what you’ve just said.

“Oh, cut it off! You are beautiful, intelligent and sweet, it is impossible to not fall in love with you.” Hannah comforted you as she praised you with her sincere words.

“Aw, Hannah.” You looked at her with a wide smile and you hugged her. “Thank you.”

“It was the truth.” She hugged you back as a nice friend she was.

“Talking of these boys,” You started as you broke the hug and she hid her face behind her hands as she already knew the next question. “how are you and my older brother, Clay?” You flashed a smirk and you saw her cheeks turned red.

“Oh my God, I knew it.” She laughed, still having her face hidden. “We’re friends, (Y/N). We work at the movie theatre and we talk at school, that’s it.”

“Jesus, Clay never asked you out?” You shook your head for your disappointment because you rooted for them being together. You considered Clay and Hannah as a perfect couple.

“He’s shy.” Hannah shortly answered.

“But it’s not an excuse! I would slap that dork silly, seriously.” You unleashed a long and deep sigh because Hannah seemed disappointed too and her being dismayed was one of the things you wouldn’t want to see. “I’ll talk to him, because I know that he likes you too, a lot!”

“Geez, really?” Hannah smiled widely and you nodded happily as her happiness came back once again.

“You can count on that!” You winked at her and she bit her lower lip. You stared at each other and you both let out some soft giggles for no reason, but it was interrupted as you heard some noise coming from the living room.

There was a discussion happening between Hannah’s parents and you could tell that she felt embarrassed for it. She hated it when they fought and having a friend hearing their complaints wasn’t one of the things that she wanted to happen.

“Are you okay, Hannah?” You worriedly asked and she just shook it off, obviously avoiding herself to ask you some help.

“(Y/N), do you mind if we cancel this sleepover?” She fidgeted with her warm blankets as she was nervous for your possible reaction.

“Oh no, it’s fine for me if you don’t feel comfortable. I mean, I would stay to cheer you up, but I will give you space if you want.” You sympathetically said as you understood her situation.

“I am fine, really.” She assured you. “I will call you if I ever need some help. Thank you.”

“Don’t bother to call me, okay?” You reminded her once again as you got up from her bed. You gathered your things and you put them in your backpack.

“Noted.” She smiled widely at you, not minding her parents anymore. She got up too and you both went outside her room as she led you to the house’s front door. Her parents stopped throwing shit at each other as they saw you going away and you could say that they felt guilty because of it.

“Good night, Hannah.” You sweetly greeted. “Call me or text me, okay? I am always here.”

“I know and I thank you for that.” She hugged you and you responded to it by hugging her back. “Good night.” She then let you go.

“Good night, see you tomorrow.” You said as you unlocked your bike’s chains. You then rode it as you said goodbye to Hannah once again. She watched you as you started to pedal way back home.

During your journey, you thought of Hannah’s family situation and you knew that it wasn’t your business but you wanted to help her. You wanted to help her, because you didn’t want for it to be one of the reasons she would feel sad or disappointed. Her life was already hard and you didn’t want for her to carry another problem on her back.

Once you arrived home, you silently went to your room, not wanting to wake anybody up. You plopped your things on your desk and you let yourself fall on the bed carelessly.

“What the fuck, Clay?!” You heard a deep voice complaining and you were shocked, mostly scared, for a moment. You were afraid to move, but you quickly searched for the lamp that rested on your bedside table and you turned the lights on. “Oh, it’s you (Y/N)!”

“What the hell are you doing in my room, Jeff?” You corrugated your forehead as you wondered why. You liked Jeff, but you knew that you had the right to be furious after what happened.

“Clay said that you were staying at Hannah’s!” Jeff sat up as he covered his shirtless body. “Boys can have sleepover too, duh!”

“Jeez!” You laughed even though you were annoyed. “I am sleeping on the couch downstairs then.”

“No, I am sleeping there. This is your bed and it’s not okay to let a woman sleep uncomfortably.” He ranted as he searched for his shirt and wore it soon after.

“It’s okay, Jeff. Stay here.” You flashed him a smile and you got up from your bed, ready to go out of the room.

“No!” Jeff protested. “We can share! It’s a double bed and I can sleep on one side and you on the other.”

“Hmm?” You raised an eyebrow as you considered his proposal.

“Only if it’s okay with you. If not, I am sleeping on the couch.” He smiled as he scratched his nape.

“Alright, I’ll share my bed with you.” You went back on the bed and you sat on your space. “Only because I don’t want for you to be uncomfortable, okay?”

“Alright, (Y/N).” You could bet that you saw him smirking before you turned the lights off.

“No malice, Jeff!” You slapped his muscular arm and he just let out a laugh. Oh, how much you loved that laughter. “Thank my parents because they taught us that sharing is caring.”

“I’m thanking Lainie and Matt tomorrow, don’t worry.” He jokingly answered and you just giggled because of it. “Good night, (Y/N).”

“Good night, Jeff.” You smiled while you had your eyes closed. You couldn’t believe it, so you had a hard time drifting in your sleep, same for Jeff.

You were happy that you had a chance to share the bed with your ultimate crush and both knew that you would wake up hugging each other, but who cares? You both liked each other, you just had no guts to admit it and this is a great coincidence to show the affection to each other.


Cradled In Love

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Words: 2217

Warnings: “Angst to fluff to smut”. NSFW gifs (you know me by now!!)

Anon asked “I’m on vacation with my so called family which is breaking apart at the moment and um it’s really hard to be here with them and I can’t really enjoy this vacay so is there a possibility if you could write a tom holland one shot to cheer me up maybe with angst and fluff and smut and beautiful words of yours.. I don’t want to be here with these people and I want to cry every second of the day.”

A/N: So this is my first non-Bucky/Sebastian fic. It’s special because the anon who asked is having a super bad day…I know how it gets when family is a bitch to deal with (trust me all my extended family are a bunch of assholes!!!!) Anyway, here you go and I hope I did him justice. SENDING HUGS AND KISSES YOUR WAY LOVELY PERSON.

Permanent Tag List: @meganlane84 @mizzzpink @bringmetheemobands @kimistry27 @fireandicewillsuffice @vacam79 @amrita31199 @badassbaker @feelmyroarrrr @aekr @sexy-sea-basss @isaxhorror @actual-bucky-barnes-trash @cassandras-musings @kimistry27 @mo320 @ssweet-empowerment

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We had just finished our first quest, where none of us really were experienced DnD player, and I did some feeble attempts at solid DM'ing. The goal of the quest had been to find an antidote for a farmer’s son who had gone into a magical coma.

(ps: due to an inside joke, Winnie the Pooh is in the party like, just there. Christopher Robin is the farmers son who fell ill. The party coloured winnie the pooh neon pink. I don’t know why.)

DM: You reach the farm. You don’t have to roll shit to figure out these peeps are poor. They have a cow and a goat in a small pen that don’t look too hot. Oh, and there’s a donkey tied by the door to their shedlike home.

Elf Ranger: guys i think these peeps are super poor.

Half-Elf Cleric (only good aligned partymember): oh my god really????

DM: just as you say that, the door creaks open, and a thin, a bit aged man peeks out, and when he sees you, his eyes go wide and he steps fully outside, and he says “Are you the ones my daughter sent to- have you found it? Did you find the antidote for my son?”

Half-Elf Cleric: Hello we are here to speak to you about Jesus Christ- I mean, Njord. That’s my deity, right?

Elf Ranger: Yeah, the word of Njord.

Dward Fighter (whose alignment is sorta fuzzy): Yeah we got some antidote dude but uhh time cough up some gold pieces, aight

DM: So- these news fills him with both glee and fear. He sinks down on his feet-

Half-Elf Cleric: What was he on before

DM: -His knees. He sinks down on his knees, and he brings his hands together in your typical prayer like- he’s begging you. “Please, we have… nothing.”

Tiefling Warlock (Chaotic Neutral): sad trombone

DM: “Please, I- I have but one son, he and my daughter are- we won’t be able to do the amount of work- we need him!”

Tiefling Warlock: “Shall we move on, my fellows?”

DM: As you guys speak about this, Winnie the Pooh slides down from /Half-Elf Cleric/’s shoulders, where he’s been perched, and sort of waddles forward, past the begging father, and into the house, to join Christopher Robin.

Half-Elf Cleric: AWWWWWW

Dwarf Fighter: Ey he didn’t swipe the antidote from us, did he?

DM: No- no, you still got that.

Tiefling Warlock: I would’ve Eldritch Blasted his ass if he had.

Half-Elf Cleric: I think we should just give them the antidote.

DM: Like- just to clarify: the antidote is not like- a valuable thing. It’s just this one specific conconction for this particular- you won’t get more cash out of this anywhere else, nobody is gonna run up to you and go “oh, my father is in a magical coma and needs an antidote that-!” like. It’s literally worthless except for these people.

Tiefling Warlock: But we won't have to help someone pro bono.

Half-Elf Cleric: *annoyed sigh* I don’t give a damn about money.

Everyone except her: *horrified gasps*

Dwarf Fighter: … well, you guys do got a nice ass-

Everyone: WHAT

Dwarf Fighter: the donkey. You got a nice donkey.

DM: You… want the donkey.

Half-Elf Cleric: IS IT EEYORE

Everyone: YES we want the donkey.

DM: … The man looks at the donkey and then at you, and he goes “I- If it is a trade between the life of my son and my donkey, it’s- then it’s yours.” And- and Eeyore looks up at you all-

Everyone: YES IT’S EEYORE

DM: -and he goes “I figured I was going to get sold anyway…”

Half-Elf Cleric: AWWW

DM: and the farmer goes “AAA” cus he didn’t know he had a talking donkey

Dwarf Fighter: eyy hasn’t he seen Shrek talking donkeys means cash

DM: yeah well that doesn’t matter now cus he’s giving him to you guys

Dwarf Fighter: right you are

DM: and the man unties Eeyore and he sighs deeply and he goes “this surely won’t make things easier for us… but in exchange for my son… *sigh*”

Tiefling and Dwarf: oh stop moping around jesus hell

Half-Elf Cleric: EYY if I have a ‘set of commoners clothes’ can i give them to them cus they look poor right

DM: I guess

Half-Elf Cleric: EYYYYYYYYYYYY

DM: but then you’d be naked

Half-Elf Cleric: NÄÄÄIJ in that case fuck it you don’t get shit i’m sorry i tried

DM: -and you just start taking of your clothes to give them to the man, but you realise halfway through what you’re doing and you get dressed again

Tiefling: cover yourself, woman

DM: so- let me get this straight. You guys literally have a box on wheels that you pull along with you, and it is filled… with the golden heads of a pair of statues AND YOU WANNA TAKE THIS POOR FAMILYS DONKEY.

Tiefling: survival of the fittest, honey *grabs rope with Eeyore on the other end*

-they go inside and give Christopher Robin the antidote-

Christopher Robin: what the fuck

DM: And the family all rejoice at the awakening of their son, and they turn and thank you, and they’re in the middle of hugging you all when the farmer murmurs “They… they took the donkey.” and the whole family just. Goes quiet-

Dwarf Fighter: fucking tattletale?

DM: - and the mother sort of sinks down on her chair and she whisperes “How will we surviv-”

Tiefling: Oh for fucks- “look, woman, if you don’t shut up I’ll Eldritch Blast your ass-”

Half-Elf Cleric: “HEY WHAT”

DM: The woman gasps loudly and pales-

Dwarf Fighter: “Yo what’s the problem don’t you want a talking donkey”

Half-Elf Cleric: “I meant the whole threatening to KILL HER actually”

Tiefling: “I wasn’t threatening her, I was just stating a fact”

DM: That if she wouldn’t shut up you’d kill her?

Tiefling: It’s a very known fact.

DM: Winnie the Pooh is looking at Christopher Robin with such glee; it’s really indescribable how happy he’s looking, and he’s hopping around happily and he’s climbing up on the bed to give him a big old hug, and Christopher Robin, he goes- “What the- could you guys like take the bear away from me.”

Everyone: “WHAT”

Half-Elf Cleric: “Isn’t he like with you?”

Christopher Robin: “Wh- no? I just went into the woods and he just came up to me, and I found this ruin and he just followed me? And then I got stung by something and that’s all I remember? Could you like take him away he’s a bit creepy. And why is he pink?”

Half-Elf Cleric: “Well uhh he’s yours now. You don’t have a donkey anymore, so-”

DM: And this sorta comes as news to him cus when the father told the fam he had just woken up so he was a bit disoriented so now he goes “Wh-Why is-? What happened to our donkey?” And the father, he goes “Well, son, it was their demand to give you the antidote… and-”

Tiefling: “By the way… can we get this transaction on paper?”

DM: - and the boy turns to you incredulously, and he goes “But-! You can’t! We need that donkey, without it we’ll die!”

Dwarf: “You’re young and strong, boy, time to saddle up.”

Tiefling: “You got a bear now.”

DM: - And Christopher Robin starts to cry too, and he goes “You might’ve saved our lives, but you’ve killed our family-”

Dwarf: “Anywho, gots to go.”

DM: So, you go to leave the shedlike home, and the athmostphere is next to devastated-

Dwarf: “Okay, okay, I ain’t okay with this. We go here and save your life, and you guys are devastated? Really?”

Tiefling: “I agree entirely. Ungrateful runt.”

Cleric: “I-”

DM: “And Chrisopher Robin slams the door in your face.”

Cleric: “No, I was- I was gonna whisper to him “I didn’t want this, I wanted to let you have it for free-”

DM: -Okay, so you whisper that, and he just stares you down, and he shakes his head, and tears are falling down, and he just spits out “You’re just as bad as them for letting it happen anyway,” and he throws the door shut in front of your face after doing that.

Cleric: “GODDAMNIT”

DM: okay so like just to state- like, you guys are super welcome to just. give them something on your own accord, like, out of your own pocket, you picked up som gold in that temple, so if you want to-

Cleric: I WANNA GIVE THEM 100 GP

Tiefling: WHAT “NO, NO, DON’T” ok so I try to pursuade /cleric/ not to do it.

DM: You- you can’t roll to make another player do stuff they don’t wanna do.

Tiefling: Okay, uh “Hey, /cleric/. Don’t do it.” There, you’re pursuaded.

Cleric: … yeah, nah. I give them the gold.

DM: So- you hammer on the door and you shout “I GOT GOLD FOR YOU” or something like that, and Christopher Robin opens the door, and once he sees the gold you’re extending, he- he is so happy. He takes the gold and he goes to hug you, and the entire family comes out and does the same, they can buy like 3 donkeys now i dunno how GP works in dnd yet uhhh so-

Tiefling: Fuck this, I eldritch blast Christopher Robin.

Cleric: NO YOU DON’T i stand in the way.

DM: -Fine? Uh, roll an attack roll.

Tiefling: Twelve.

DM: You miss. You hit the ground.

Tiefling: … don’t I hit the house at least?

DM: NO YOU- WHY DO YOU WANT TO BURN THE HOUSE DOWN

 Cleric: WHY WOULD YOU STILL ROLL WHEN I WAS STANING IN THE WAY- YOU TRIED TO KILL ME

Ranger: All of this for a donkey

DM: Nah, dude, you got the donkey. This is because /Cleric/ gave them 100 GP

Ranger: Oh okay

Dwarf: Yeah, but they’re super ungrateful. Bastards.

Cleric: Yeah but we can’t KILL THEM for that??

DM: so the family, they- after the attempted murder, they run back into the house. 

Dwarf: Did they take the gold?

DM: Yeah.

Dwarf: Rat bastards.

DM: Does /Tiefling/ want to keep his spree of ‘teaching people some manners’ going or?

Tiefling: Nahhh. But he does cast sleep on /Cleric/ cus he’s pissed.

Cleric: haHA i’m a half elf and I can’t be magically put to sleep!

Tiefling: Nvm then I’m tired.

DM: So- you guys walk away from the house, and just for a moment you hear the door opening and then quickly closing-

Ranger: No

DM: -and you turn, and- Winnie the Pooh has been tossed out of the house.

Dwarf: THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT when Njord taketh a donkey he giveth thee an illuminescent bear, and they just TOSS HIM OUT

DM: - and Winne the Pooh sits on the ground very- very sadly. Had he had tear ducts, he would cry a single tear. He is on the ground-

Ranger: Still pink?

DM: Still pink.

Cleric: :’(

Ranger: ugh FINE let’s take him with us.

DM: You go and pick him up, and he is so happy. So, so happy.

Dwarf: what are we, collecting Winnie the Pooh characters?

DM: He’s on /clerics/ shoulder again-

Tiefling: Can’t we put him on Eeyores back?

Dwarf: Can’t we put EEYORE on WINNIE THE POOH’s back?

DM: You put Eeyore on Winnie the Pooh back, and you now have a donkey on top of a bear on the ground. They are not moving.

Cleric: Oh dear.

DM: And Eeyore sighs and goes “I knew I’d be too heavy”

Everyone: “AWWWWWW”

A Pile Of Sticky Notes (Richie Tozier x Reader)

Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: You and Richie had a thing going, and by ‘thing’ you mean rivalry. On the outside you hate him with all your might, but secretly you’ve been slipping love notes into his locker and praying no one ever sees you. Knowing your rotten luck, the person who catches you in the act is the one person you never wanted to be caught by. 

Warnings: Cussing, because it’s Richie… Obviously. Also kissing an’ shit, and this was requested by @ireland37, who wrote their own series based off the idea. Check it out!

Word Count: 1,304


“Is it hard to be this stupid, or does it come naturally?”

Richie snorted and, grinning widely, raised his middle finger at you. You didn’t notice the red tint to his face every time the two of you argued and he never knew that your chest wanted to explode whenever he insulted you, which was odd, but it happened anyway. Whether or not he had a comeback, you enjoyed the banter.

“If you want to talk about things that come naturally then you should see me in bed.” He fires back, crumpling paper into a ball and throwing it at you. You ducked and frowned, craning your neck to look at him. You were about to say something but the teacher walked in and shushed the class, and you were forced to turn back to the front.

Halfway through the boring class, you heard a quiet ‘thwip’ sound and felt something hit the back of your head. Your hand darted up to feel your hair, pulling a tiny ball of crumpled paper out of the locks. It was, to your absolute disgust, slimy.

“Bleh! That’s disgusting!”

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