moving-eyes

Dr. Slug and Dr. Flug (villainous Drabble sneak peek of “Dimension Anomaly”

Dr. Flug watched silently as Slug drew up the blueprints for the teleporter. Even if Slug offended his intelligence, he bitterly had to admit that Slug’s blueprint was better than his. Dr. Flug glanced back at Slug, who stopped drawing for a moment and let out a bored sigh.

“I can’t concentrate when I’m being hovered.” Slug said, casting a sideways glance at Flug. Dr. Flug rolled his eyes and moved to the other side of the table, admiring the amount of papers from Slug’s personal work. He picked up one scrap of paper, rolled up and tossed aside and opened it. He let out a hum.

“A death ray?” Flug mused, tilting his head to the side in amazement. “It looks exactly as my gravity ray.”

Slug raised his head, his eyes on the paper. “Oh…yeah. White Hat requested that I make him an anti-gravity ray, I couldn’t figure it out and got bored. I made a death ray instead.” Slug let out a  tired sigh. “White Hat didn’t like it.”

“That’s understandable for a hero.” Flug said, placing the piece of paper down on the table.

“He has no vision.” Slug said with a bitter tone. Dr. Flug stared at him. “All the power, all the money and he won’t even take over the world. Unlike your Black Hat, who even admitted he conquered it four times.” Slug suddenly ripped the blue print into pieces. Flug put out his hands in surprise.

“Wait! That was genius!”

“Well, not to me.” Slug growled, casting a hard glare at Dr. Flug. He backed away from the sight of Slug’s red eyes. “There was a flaw…have to start over.”

Slug placed a blank blue print down and began to sketch out the machine again. Dr. Flug took a seat on a spare stool, shifting through Slug’s papers. He found many valuable inventions, all labeled as a success from what appears to be White Hat’s handwriting underneath the finished product for his hero catalog. Some of the titles read, “Protective Bubble”, “Jetpack”, and “Kitty safety net”. Flug let out a slight chuckle on that one. Dr. Slug raised his eyes up to Flug again with a tired expression in his eyes.

“Those were White Hat’s ideas, I just make them…”

Flug let out a hum. “Black Hat tells me his ideas as well…they usually disappoint him though.” He said with a small voice. “Most work out great, but he is never satisfied with them or with me.”

Slug let out a huff. “What? You want him to recognize you, like a kid running to daddy to show him a picture?”

Flug’s eyes narrowed from that analogy. “In my dimension, being by Black Hat’s side is a great honor for a villain. All I want is for him to recognize me as a great villain.”

Slug shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah well, good luck with that.”

Flug crossed his arms. “What about you with White Hat?”

“What about it?” Slug said, trying to concentrate on his work.

“How did you start to work with him? It seems you’re not much of a hero yourself.”

“That’s because I’m not, I will never call myself a hero…”

“But you work with one.”

“I don’t have much of a choice.”

“What do you mean?”

Dr. Slug tossed aside his pencil, giving up on finishing the project. He walked around the table until he stood in front of Flug. Flug raised a brow when Slug lifted up his pant’s leg to show him an ankle monitor. His eyes widened at the sight of it.

“I was a villain years ago.” Slug began. “I was known in the villain world as my alias “The Highjacker”, I use to board planes and kidnap the large sum of people inside and would ask for ransom in exchange for their lives. I made millions.” Slug walked back to his work station and picked up a pencil. “No one could stop me, until one day when I was bailing out of a plane…my parachute got shot down.” Slug’s grip tightened on his pencil. “I fell at 500 feet and landed on concrete, with broken legs and officers around me. I miscalculated my drop zone, which made it easier for the officers to get me.”

Slug rubbed the back of his neck and let out a yawn. “I didn’t realize that one of the idiot officers actually shot me in my chest…right through my heart.” He said, unconsciously placing his gloved hand over it. “The officers didn’t realize either and were putting handcuffs on me…the only one who did noticed was White Hat. ”

Slug looked up at Flug and stared straight at him. “I was dying and White Hat made a deal with me….work for him and he’ll help me. In the moment, I agreed. Now, White Hat is a demon and his power is incredible, using it on me made an unbreakable bond.” Slug picked up the pencil and placed it in both hands. “White Hat keeps me alive with his essence, I can’t explain it but he constantly has to share his power with me, because of that, if I ever leave his side….” Slug bent the pencil causing it to snap. The visual was enough for Flug to understand. “The monitor is used to keep track of my health and whereabouts, making it easier for White Hat to find me.”

————————————————–

This is a sneak peek of a drabble I am working one, where Black Hat and White Hat meet in unusual circumstances. I hope you like it so far. 

Ficlet: A Righteous Woman

Author: @khaleesa

Fandom: Fargo

Pairing: Nikki Swango x Wes Wrench

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be a few sentences for the Micro Story Meme, but it got away with me and ended up being 500 words. For @bratanimus, who requested Nikki x Wrench and “righteous,” which is incidentally the same prompt I gave her for that pairing. Hope you like this as much as I know I’ll love yours. ;)

~*~

Nikki read.

Entered the motel room, went straight to the nightstand, took the Gideon Bible out of the drawer, stretched out on the bed nearest the bathroom, and read.

Great, Wrench thought, taking the other bed. On the run with a Jesus freak.

He’d shared jail cells with people like that, and honestly preferred cold-blooded evil to hypocrites.

But as he watched Nikki’s eyes move down the columns of text, turning a thin page every thirty seconds or so, he decided that wasn’t it. She was searching for something, all right…but not spiritual guidance.

(Later, she would tell him that she taught herself to read, when she was three, because she needed to know things but no one would teach her. All her life she taught herself the things she needed to know. Such as the game of bridge.)

Finally, after reading through the night, she stopped. Placed the Bible on the nightstand, open. Jabbed her index finger on the page and pushed it toward him. Wrench leaned in to the circle of lamplight to read the verse she indicated. The Book of Obadiah, verse four.

Though thou exalt thyself as the eagle, and though thou set thy nest among the stars, thence will I bring thee down, saith the Lord.

Wrench grabbed the motel notepad and pen and wrote, Who the fuck is Obadiah?

Nikki smiled at that, slightly. The first time he’d seen her smile. She was pretty.

And sad.

She took the notepad from him. A prophet. A righteous man among the wicked.

Wrench shrugged.

Nikki’s face pulled back into a frown. Her eyes darted between the Bible and the notepad, until she wrote again. Guy in the bowling alley said I’m to tell that to Ray’s killer.

That shouldn’t have made sense, but weirdly, Wrench understood. It had been all over the news on their way out of Minnesota and a good way into Manitoba: Nikki Swango was wanted for the murder of her abusive boyfriend. When Wrench pointed to her to ask whether she’d done it, he hadn’t been sure whether she meant for him to lip read her reply. My Ray never hurt me.

Now he took the notepad from her. Who are you bringing down?

He offered the paper and pen back to her, but Nikki tapped the Bible instead, a few verses down.

For thy violence against thy brother Jacob shame shall cover thee, and thou shalt be cut off for ever.

Wrench sat back, let it sink in.

Ray Stussy had been killed by his own brother. The Parking Lot King of Minnesota, they called him on the news. Fucking biblical, this story, with fratricide and a wicked king.

He picked up the notepad. Guess that makes you the righteous woman.

What’s that make you?

Not righteous. Not wicked, either. After a moment’s hesitation, Wrench wrote, Partner?

Nikki smiled, a little more than before. She flipped the Bible shut, placed the notepad on top.

I’m gonna need a book on sign language.

anonymous asked:

It's been 2 years since this guy and I broke things off(his decision). He's texted me my last two birthdays, chatted a bit, he still stares at me heavily the whole time we're around each other. I can't understand what he's doing, I really need him to stop because everytime I'm convinced I've moved on his eyes meet mine and I lose it.

Why are you looking at him then? Maybe you need to stop looking at him. I think you still kinda hope that things will change again, that you both might be something again. Ask yourself what you want. Give yourself time to figure this out.

http-anti  asked:

😢 ((*straps on getting ready for angst*))

63. “Hey, look at me. Look at me. It’s Anti and Amy for a thousand years. It’s just you and me against the world, remember?”

Amy wasn’t responding. Anti could shake her all he wanted but she wouldn’t move. Eyes dull as she starred into nothingness. After what seemed like hours she turned her head and starred at him, prying his hands off her shoulders. “Stop it.”

What the signs look for in a lover

Aries: They are all about the romance and the passion. As long as you never get bored of them, they’ll love you to death. They share a lot of inside jokes and love being goofy together.

Taurus: Besides the comfort and the reliance in the relationship, they will take pleasure in those little moments that you share together, those brief moments of physical contact when your hands brush against each other. Doesn’t hurt to share some similar interests with each other.

Gemini: It’s in the little things. The bright smile. That look of adoration. That little way your eyes move to the left every time you tell a white lie. These mean a lot to them. 

Cancer: They don’t want you to share their interests, they want you to be able to respect and understand these interests. Once they realise you can be trusted, they’ll let themselves fall in love and give all of their heart.

Leo: They want someone who can show their love, display it. Show them you mean it, show them that you’re not faking, they want to know, but they can only realise it when you show them in bold, obvious ways. Don’t be too subtle, just flood them with your love.

Virgo: They don’t want extravagant displays of your love, for they feel that you’re flaunting them. They want it in the details, in the small things you do for them, the subtle ways you convey it. Be romantic, be genuine, but above all, be sincere.

Libra: Tell them you mean it. Don’t be afraid to speak up and tell them anything and everything. They like to share and be a part of your life too. They want to know your day, your successes, your problems and live them with you.

Scorpio: They don’t need romance, they need to know that your love is heartfelt. They need to be able to trust you, to know that you won’t hurt them, and once they do, they’ll go all out to show it.

Sagittarius: They want you to understand their flaws and quirks. They want you to respect them. They want you to be able to be with you through all the ups and downs of life. They’ll know that you want to be with them.

Capricorn: They want someone who they can be comfortable with, show their true self, the self that has all the quirks and fun and humour and hidden qualities. Few people make them feel that way.

Aquarius: They want someone who they can hold a meaningful conversation with. They’ll rarely waste their time with someone who doesn’t put themselves in it, like engage in the moment. 

Pisces: Don’t be a liar. Don’t be a faker. Don’t break their heart. They want someone who can understand their emotional changes and go along with it. They want someone who can be by their side at the worst of times. They want someone who they can entrust their secrets with.

“So this was Levi, the witch.”

-The Stag in the Dark, chapter 1

Okay so @perksofbeingawaifu‘s darkstag aesthetic is so pretty I had to make something for the fic even if I hadn’t finished reading it yet lmao. and I thought a deer with creepy eyes would go perfectly with the whole vibe.

READ THE FIC HERE IF YOU HAVEN’T IT’S SO GOOD???

How to Flirt: Embarrassed Boy Edition

Summary: As soon as the first ever Cold Stone Creamery opens up in London, Phil knew he had to go. However, it wasn’t the ice cream that made him keep coming back, but rather the cute employee who looks dead in the eyes whenever he has to sing the tip jar songs.
Word Count: 4,405
Warnings: Food mentions, cussing
A/N: thanks so much to @greynihilism for prompting me this!!! I honestly love this SO MUCH. And of course thanks to @snowbunnylester for listening to me shout and for telling me to match our titles bc we are disgusting soulmates. I didn’t edit this but i’m too excited about it so idgaf! Hope you like it! 

Read it on AO3!

-  

When a new Cold Stone Creamery opened up in London, it was the biggest thing since sliced bread. Literally everyone had to try some, to get some for themselves, that way they could boast to their friends and family how they got to try it.

Phil was guilty of this. He was a slut for only two things, and those were ice cream and new shops. So when he heard a new ice cream shop was opening up? Phil pretty much shit himself. He gathered all of his friends, sat them down, and explained the situation to them. He didn’t want to say he forced them to come with him, because he didn’t. He just calmly insisted that they come with him and didn’t let them leave the room until they agreed. No biggie.

That’s how he found himself inside of Cold Stone with Kiley, Charles, and Michael. Phil was the only one who was so excited that he couldn’t stop bouncing on the balls of his feet. His friends were chattering beside him, waiting patiently for the line to go down so they could finally order, but Phil was having trouble being patient. He wanted his ice cream and he wanted it now. There were still five people in front of him and he wanted to push them all out of the way so he could order his own ice cream and press his face to the counter glass like an annoying child.

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Married with Benefits (Part 12)

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

Word Count: 861

“Married with Benefits” Masterlist 

Originally posted by skywalkersleia-archive


He ignored Bucky’s calls on his way back, his mind only focusing on you. Steve wanted to be close to you, wanted to hold you, wanted to be with you. There was no one else, there never had been. Sure, he had dated a few girls in college, but you had always stuck to the back of his mind and he was positive his relationships had been purposely tanked by himself because of his feelings for you.

He snorted. Personal sabotage. Who knew?

He opened your photo message again and looked at you, marveling at the sheer beauty of you. You were angelic, from your acne blemishes, to the small chicken pox scar you had under your right eye.

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His First. (A Dirty Harry Styles One Shot)

- In which Harry is a bit.. inexperienced in the bedroom.

Harry thought he could hide it. He thought he could get away with it. But, when everything came to him so all of a sudden, he realized that he was trapped, and the only way to get out, was by telling the truth. 

And so he did.

“What?” you ask breathlessly, your hands at the mid of Harry’s patterned shirt, fingers frozen on the buttons, pulling the colorful fabric away from his tall and lanky form.

“I-I’m.. yeh are my first.”


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Bts ignoring you and you calling them “Daddy” to get their attention

A/N: Second day of everyday doing reactions with Li. I had a very stressful day, but I’m happy I managed to finish this. All reactions are requested. <3 Li


Jin 

As per usual Jin was too absorbed in thinking about the other members and their health in the form of a nice menu or a place to eat that won’t damage his boys health. That made him forget about you. It was uncommon for him so it made you feel strange-less appreciated. But there was something that always got his attention “Daddy…” the word slipped of your tongue so easily. Jin eyes widen at the beginning and you thought that he’ll react unusual but he didn’t. He just put back his calm face and opened his legs so you could sit on his lap. “Did daddy neglect his princess?”

Yoongi 

When Yoongi was working usually meant he waas working so he ignored everything around him. You too. And that was literally the only thing you didn’t like about Yoongi. But he had his weak points,one of which was “Daddy…baby girly is bored.” Yoongi would turn around an evil smile covering his face “Is she now? How sad I have work so she’ll have to find something to do for an hour and after that Daddy is hers. But until then,baby should behave.”

Namjoon 

Namjoon was from those people that were getting so absorbed in a book they forget everything around them. It was around 7 o'clock in the night when you understood that if you let him he’ll read all night long. So that called for a good distraction. And the only better thing to do with your free time is…“Daddy?” Namjoon didn’t even move his eyes from the book but his lips did. “What baby?” drastic times, drastic measures “I need you.” this time Namjoon did move his eyes hidden behind Harry Potter like golden glasses. A serious expression has taken his usually soft features. “Very good then. On the couch Y/N. Next to me. Good girl. Now open your legs. Good. Now leave it to me.” his hand made contact with my hot thigh and his eyes with the book.

*I know it’s a picture, but look at him*

Hoseok

Hoseoks attention was always on you when he was with you, so you didn’t understand why now, in your shared bed, cuddling,it was obvious his mind was somewhere else. And obvious the comeback choreography. You loved that he had so many roles in the group and the others called him the base. But you felt the pressure starts to gets the best of him"Daddy?“ Hoseok attention returned to you so fast. "Daddy is sorry baby. I’ve got a lot on my mind lately. I’m sorry. Daddy is in special need of cuddles and a little something else because this nightgown will be the death of me.”

Jimin

Jimins love and pation beside you was dancing. So it came natural to you that sometimes he would dance all night long, but you haven’t seen him in three days and when you finally saw each other he excused himself and asked you if he could practice while you were talking. That made you bratty af. “Daddy!” Jimin stopped moving, turned around slowly, licked eyes with you and you noticed their color changing from the warm hazelnut color to dark moca brown. “Are you being bratty Y/N? True, I haven’t seen you in few days and it’s true that it’s my fault, but I won’t tolerate that bratty tone. Have you forgotten your manners baby? I think we’ll have a learning session tonight." 

Taehyung 

Tae and shopping. Shopping and Tae. Galleries and Tae. Tae and galleries. Tae being aesthetic little piece of ignorant shit. Why did he choose a bratty princess like you? "Daddy…Y/N wants to go home.” you said pounting your face at him. “Y/N will wait half an hour.” said Tae with look of warning. It was way more thab half an hour and you knew that. Lately with all the tours, songs and varieties you were barely been able to see him and him not paying attention to you made you salty “Daddy!” Tae hand wrapped around your waist bringing you to his chest.“Be careful Y/N. My patience is wearing thin and knowing that I haven’t touched you in a while makes me go crazy. So behave little girl.”

*masculine Tae, with meat on his bones is a religion, get used to this gif*

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

Jungkook

Jungkook training was the hottest thing on Earth. His hair was slicked back and little drops of sweat were painting his face. His shirt was nowhere to be seen and his expression was one of total concentration. But in reality his home fitness was taking away him from you. And that, no matter how much you liked sucking flowers on those muscles,was a problem. So one day it all became too much. “Daddy.” it slipped without you even realising it. Jungkook stopped in the middle of the push up, amazing you one more time. “Come here Y/N.” You walked to him and the difference was funny, but it was because of him laying on the floor. And in the next second he wasn’t. He was right in front of you. “Say it again.” his expression was wild and holding in the promises of all those times you couldn’t be together.


Reaction Masterlist

Come Back to Me (Part Seven)

Fandom: Marvel
Ship: Peter Parker x Reader
Requested: Yes
Genre: Neutral
Warnings: Mention of Claustrophobia, Lockdown and Assault Mentioned
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

Originally posted by mrs-tomholland

The field trip was boring, to say the least. It was an art museum, and although you loved looking at art, you had been to this museum more times than you could count. Peter had, too.

But still, you feigned interest in the same pieces you had seen before. They used to amaze you, but now they simply bored you. The class had been organized into groups of ten when you got off the bus, and somehow, you had ended up in the same group as Peter and Ned. You weren’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. At least you had Michelle with you, but she was never much of a talker.

As your group made their way through the museum, occasionally bumping into other groups along the way, you began to zone out. You thought of a world where you and Peter could end up together, where he felt the same way about you that you felt about him.

You thought about holding his hand while walking down the halls at school, about going to the next homecoming dance together. You thought about him kissing you goodbye at the end of the night before he webbed across buildings to get back to his apartment.

You wished it were real, so badly. And maybe it could be, one day, but you knew it was unrealistic. You were sure that Peter was still hung up on Liz, even after all these months. But maybe after he got over her, there was that chance, that he would see what he was missing. Maybe he would see that he was missing you.

A siren went off, breaking you out of your thoughts. You frantically looked around with wide eyes, and you noticed the rest of your group was doing the same. The speakers of the museum crackled overhead, signaling someone was about to speak.

“The museum is on lockdown. I repeat, the museum is on lockdown. There is an active assault outside of the museum. Please stay calm and stay where you are.”

A few gasps sounded from your classmates, but you simply stood there with wide eyes, finding it hard to breathe. You had been in too many dangerous situations in the past month for your liking. You began to think of being trapped under the shelves, not being able to move and screaming for help.

Your shoulders hunched, almost as if you were caving in on yourself. You looked down at the ground, trying to control your breathing before it got out of hand. You wanted to go home. You should’ve stayed home.

“Alright, kids,” you heard the slightly panicked voice of your chaperone say, “let’s all move into the corner.”

“But the person said to stay where you are!” A random kid shouted out. 

“They meant stay in the room. Just move into the corner,” the chaperone said, motioning to you guys to move. 

The ten of you cluttered into the corner, five leaning against each wall with the chaperone standing in front of you, his back to you guys. You ended up squished between Peter and Michelle, and although you desperately wanted to lean into your best friend for comfort, you found yourself leaning towards Michelle instead. 

“Stay quiet,” your chaperone added, his back still facing the ten of you.

You glanced around at your classmates quickly, noticing they were just as afraid as you were. They were shaking, and some were darting their eyes around the room frantically while others clenched their eyes shut. Even Michelle looked unsettled. 

You took a quick look at Peter from the corner of your eye to see him not looking scared nor fine, but antsy. You knew it was because he wanted to pull his suit on and run out of the museum to apprehend the attacker, but he couldn’t, not while trapped in this room. He couldn’t leave. You were thankful for it, not wanting one more thing to freak out about in this moment.

You faced your head back down, closing your eyes and leaning your forehead against your knees. You breathed deeply, evening your breaths to stay calm. You wouldn’t think of all the possible things that could go wrong. You wouldn’t.

(You were thinking about all the possible things that could go wrong.) 

“Hey,” you heard a whisper from next to you. You looked up, opening your eyes again and looking at Peter. His eyebrows were furrowed—a frequent look on him—and he was staring at you intently.

“What?” You whispered, staring at him back. 

“Are you okay?” He asked.

So he had noticed something was wrong.

“Yeah,” you gave him a tight smile and looked down at your lap. You knew that if he could analyze your face, he would see that something is wrong.

Apparently he could tell anyways, because he leaned closer to your ear, saying, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Pete, I’m fine,” you stayed looking at your lap, knowing that if you turned your head, his face would be right in front of you. That was a dangerous position to be in.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, still speaking into your ear. “I know you, (Y/N). Something is wrong.”

You sighed deeply. You hated him in that moment, as he told you how well he knew you and how he could so easily tell something was wrong. But no, you didn’t, because you loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

You wouldn’t lie to yourself. You loved how well he knew you.

“Just nervous. Something bad could happen,” you said. You turned your head to look at him, and sucked in a quick breath of air when you noticed the very small amount of space between your faces.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Peter said, not moving back. His eyes stared into yours. You almost didn’t hear his words, the thoughts in your mind screaming too loudly. You love him, you love him, you love him.

His nose nearly touched yours, and you could see every detail on his face being this close to him. You wanted to lean closer, lean that smallest bit forward, but you wouldn’t. You couldn’t.

“I’ll protect you,” he finished, and your heart leapt in your chest at the words. 

It was moments like this when you would think about if that world that existed somewhere, where you and Peter ended up together, could be this world.

“Yeah,” was the only thing you could manage as you found yourself admiring his eyes, his nose, his face. 

He was beautiful, and in that moment, you were so sure that you were in love with him. 

You weren’t doubting that you did before, but now, in such a close proximity to him as he whispered words to you that meant so much more than he could ever know, you loved him. 

You thought you would always love him.

Peter finally looked away, leaning back and directing his eyes to look down at his lap. You looked away, too, down at your lap as well, biting your lip to keep a smile from breaking out on your face.

But then you looked up, remembering where you were, in lockdown at a museum, hoping for an assaulter to not make it through the front doors. You stiffened immediately, your sudden movement brushing your shoulder against Peter’s.

You felt a hand clasp around yours, and you looked down to your side to see Peter gently linking his hand with your hand, placing his fingers in between yours. He didn’t look at you, nor you at him, but as he squeezed your hand lightly, you tightened your grip on his hand.

He’ll protect you. He’ll protect you. He’ll protect you.

And with an ounce of hope in your heart, you let yourself think, Maybe that was his way of saying ‘I love you.’

****************************
I really like this part so I hope you guys think the same! Let me know what you think about it!! Tell me if you want another part as well!  Requests are open :) Also, I see some people asking if they can be tagged in every update I do, and instead of tagging people I just wanted to let you guys know that I individually message people the link to the new part because I would rather do that than tag. So feel free to message me and tell me you’d want me to do that!

~e

All My Love

MASTERLIST

A/N: I’m not happy with this, so I’m probably taking it down again but here goes a try. 

Word Count: 3,013

”Shawn? Shawn? Are you even listening to me at all?” I muttered, glancing over at Shawn in the passenger seat. 

I turned down John Mayer’s calming voice singing to us through the stereo in the jeep. My eyes fell on Shawn late enough for him to jerk up his head and quickly pop his eyes open. Confused and sleepy. For short moment probably wondering where on earth he was. 

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BTS Reaction: You get hit in front of them

A/N: This was requested a while back and finally finished it. I feel like it gets progressively worse as you go down, this isn’t my best writing, please excuse any mistakes. Our BTS requests are closed, but our Monsta X requests are still open! Thank you and enjoy! ~Emily

Masterlist Request

Can you please do a bts reaction about how they would react to you getting physically attacked either by a fan or someone? Love your blog btw!!


Jin:

Jin was not there when it happened. You had been running errands when you felt a tug at your arm. You turned around to find a teenage girl standing scanning your entire body. She began to say how big of a fan she was of BTS. You thought she was a sweet girl, up until she began to insult you and told you never get near Jin ever again. You got home to a missed call from Jin. You decided to message him, but he had already beat you to it. You don’t know how he found it what had happened, but he did. He was upset he couldn’t be there to help you and protect you.


Yoongi:

You had been out with Yoongi and Jungkook shopping. They walked into a store, but you decided to stay behind and rest for a while. You had been sitting when you began to hear camera clicks all around you. You turned your head to find a group of paparazzi taking pictures, you smiled and got up from your seat to find the boys. The moment they came out of the store the paparazzi ran. You had been a couple feet away from Yoongi when you felt a hand on you chest pushing you back and making you land on the cement. Yoongi was infuriated, his first instinct was to attack, but Jungkook held him back reminding him he was out in public, and eventually calmed himself down and checked on you.


Namjoon:

You had been out with Namjoon on a date. You had left the restaurant to get some fresh air, while Namjoon went to the bathroom. You were standing against the wall scrolling through your phone when you noticed someone standing in front of you. You noticed he was significantly younger than you. He began to ask you to leave with him to have “a good time” and eventually began pulling at you. Namjoon came out and eventually teaches you and the boy. “I’d love to hear the reason as to why a small boy is harassing my girlfriend.” said Namjoon as he got closer to the boy.


Hoseok:

You and the boys had gone out clubbing that night. The night was going on without a hitch. As the night went on you noticed one guy moving along the crowd to any girl at his reach. At one pint you had become his victim. He approached you, the scent of the alcohol he had been drinking was oozing off of him. He began to try and touch you. Every time you rejected him he got angrier, he’d had enough and yanked you towards him. Hoseok ran to you and pushed him off of you. The guy began trying to hit Hoseok, but he continued to dodge his attempts. The guy had aimed his swing to far and ended hitting you. You ended up on the floor cupping your cheek. Hoseok moved his eyes from you to the guy. “If you think I’m going to let you get way with punching my girlfriend, guess again.”


Jimin:

You had been on a midnight drugstore run with Jimin, buying basic necessities. You had been walking down the cereal aisle with him when you heard someone whisper Jimin’s name behind you. The both of you turned around to find a mid size girl with wide eyes. Jimin greeted her and you waited a couple feet back, scanning the the varieties cereal in front of you. It had been a couple minutes since Jimin had been talking to the fan so you decided to move to the next aisle, as you turned around you felt yourself collide into another body. “Watch where you’re going, idiot.” You looked up to find a man towering over you with a red face. “How about you watch where you’re going.” You turned your head to see Jimin behind you. You could tell he was holding himself back from lunging towards the man.


Taehyung:

It was not on purpose. You had been messing around with the boys. They had wanted to arm wrestle you. The results were as expected when it came to arm wrestling Namjoon, you won. The boys had gone crazy at your win that one of their hands made contact with your nose, making it bleed. Tae immediately jumped out his seat to help you up. “Tae, I swear it was an accident.” said Hoseok as he watched Tae’s face.


Jungkook:

You had been out and about during the day, looking for needed materials for your new apartment. You were walking looking through store windows when a fan came up to you. She politely asked you for a photo. You took the picture and she left. A couple minutes later you heard various whispers behind you, you turned around and saw about 40 girls with their phones out taking pictures of you. You waved and continued walking, you had thought the girls would leave, but they didn’t. They continued to follow you. You somehow ended up surrounded by all the girls. They began shoving their phones towards you trying to take pictures. The pushing became so harsh that somebody’s hand and phone made contact with your face. The girls continued pushing until they heard Jungkook’s voice in the distance. “I know you guys love her, but please be careful next time.”

Professor

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

warning, mention of implied sexual assault/non-con


Lucy had not anticipated what she was dealt. 

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

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

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

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

“Name.” He sounded bored. 

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

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

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

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


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

Yet. 

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

“You think I want to be here, Rone?” 

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

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

And then she became his problem. 


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

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

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

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

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

“Are you going to be here for dinner?”

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

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

“Edible?”

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

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

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

“So, you?”

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

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

“What’s wrong with her?”

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

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

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

Happy, even. 

Hard to believe that was partly Andrew’s fault. 

Focus. 

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


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

His students knew not to say anything. 

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

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

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

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

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

And winters in South Carolina were hardly anything worth mentioning. 

“Your grades.”

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

“All I need is a reason.” 

She said nothing. 

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

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

“Never said you were.”

“I’m fine.” 

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

She shook her head. 

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

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

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

She looked wistful. “Cool.” 

“Lucy.”

She looked back at him. 

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

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

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

“Can I trust you?”

“When you’re ready to.” 

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


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

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

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

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

“Hello.”

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

He stilled. 

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

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

Lucy wanted to be sick. 

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

“Suspended.” 

Andrew looked at her. “For how long?”

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

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


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

“Yay or nay?” She asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neil smiled. Neil Josten smiled. 

Lucy was having heart palpitations. 

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

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

“You’re busy. Later.”

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

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

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

Neil grinned before slipping out the door. 

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

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

Lucy was still smiling. 

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

“Are you married?” Lucy laughed. 

His face was stone. 

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

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

Lucy got out.


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

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

Flustered pt. 1

Prompt: “Quit smiling at me, I can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that.”

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1705

Warnings: fluff, friends to lovers

A/N: some bucky fluff to make up for all the shit I have put you all through with the past few fics he’s been in haha. this will be a series, so let me know if you want to be tagged. happy reading!

———

(x)

The music was loud and the people were all over the place. All you wanted was a moment of peace. Natasha made you wear a ridiculous dress, one of her own, and all you wanted to do was get out of it and get into bed, or into a warm bath. A social butterfly wasn’t something you would necessarily include on your resume.

But that relief was most likely not going to come anytime soon. No. This wasn’t one of Tony’s lavish parties that you could just leave if you got too tired. This was a mission. This was important. And sleep would only come after the night was finished.

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We Are Young: Chapter 12

Throne of Glass High School AU

Summary: Senior Rowan Whitethorn is new to town. It doesn’t take him long to get use to a new school, make new friends, even join the local hockey team. But it also doesn’t take him long to meet sophomore and figure skater Aelin Galathynius. And it doesn’t take him long to realize one thing; he can’t stand her.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

——————–

Aelin didn’t really think twice when Rowan messaged her a few weeks later, one Sunday morning, telling her to dress comfortably for their date. She also didn’t put much thought into it when she asked him what, exactly, his definition of “comfortably” was, and he responded with leggings and a sweater. But she was slightly disappointed she didn’t have to dress up for the evening.

She did, however, raise an eyebrow later that day when Rowan messaged her again, just moments after she’d gotten dressed.

Be there in 5. And make sure you have your skates.

At first, she thought it was a joke. He couldn’t seriously be taking her skating on her day off. The only day off she’d have for a long time.

Practice had been … rough lately. With Nationals coming up in just over a month, and with Aelin still yet to land her triple-triple, she normally left practice in a sour mood. Uncle Weylan said she needed all the practice she could get. So over Christmas break, they were having practice for hours on end every day. If she didn’t land her triple-triple by New Years, they were taking it out of her program.

But sure enough, when Aelin messaged Rowan “seriously buzzard?” he came back with “seriously fireheart.

So despite the fact that Aelin really wasn’t in the mood for skating at the moment, she made sure to have her skates with her.

“The rink?” She questioned as she climbed out of Rowan’s car. “I figured you’d be taking me to the pond when you told me to bring my skates.”

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anonymous asked:

Fic prompt: Bitty accidentally says something really hurtful to Jack when he's angry over the phone (like from Georgia or something). Jack takes it the wrong way and begins to panic and shut people out. Bitty doesn't realize what he's done until Jack doesn't reply to his apology a few days later and people text bitty because they're worried about Jack. Bitty has to quick find Jack and fix what he did and help him feel better

“You don’t understand!” Bitty shouts over the phone.

“But I do, Bits,” Jack retaliates for the umpteenth time this conversation.

“Jack, stop,” Bitty pleads, pressing the palm of his hand hard against his shut eyes. “You don’t, alright. You can’t. You haven’t grown up the way I did.”

“But I still–”

“Honey.”

Bitty isn’t sure if it’s the crack in his voice, but Jack goes silent on the other end.

Bitty sighs out roughly. Time apart is meant to be good for their relationship–absence makes the heart grow fonder–but all it seems to have done for Jack and Bitty is create tension and frustration.

“Eric,” Jack begins as Bitty is trying to calm his breathing. It’s not the way he says it normally; soft and reverent. No, this is like the angry spike of syllables he got from Jack in his first year at Samwell. This is a slap in the face.

“No,” he says firmly, then hangs up before he adds on anything else that his heart is tempting him with by telling him it will feel so good to get off his chest. He’s got enough sense to know that he’d regret that when he’s cooled down. He doesn’t want to lose Jack, lord how much he doesn’t want that.

Bitty turns his phone off and keeps it off for the rest of the night. His fingers itch, and he knows that even if he doesn’t text Jack, he’d be tweeting something vague and passive-aggressive which will only cause worry for his followers, some of which belong to the SMH.

-

The next morning Bitty sleeps in after having stayed up late baking. He opens his eyes slowly, aware that this morning he’s going to have to turn his phone back on and face the fact of his conversation with Jack last night.

He does it like ripping a band-aid off. Phone on, apology text sent, then he leaves it on his nightstand and heads downstairs.

He eats, then he bakes and listens to his music louder than normal. He’s calm now, last night’s frustration gone, and ready to talk to Jack about what he actually meant.

Upstairs, sitting on his bed with his phone in his hands, Bitty is stumped. There’s no response from Jack. He sends another text, asking Jack to call him later in the evening, and leaves his phone beside his laptop on the desk and he starts editing a vlog entry.

That evening, there’s no call. No text either, which worries Bitty as it’s outside Jack’s normal mode of operation. The smallest bit of doubt trembles in his fingers as he sends another text to Jack close to midnight, just to check that everything is okay.

Two days go by with no communication from Jack. It’s strange, and what’s stranger are the messages flooding his inbox from what seems like every contact he has but Jack. They’re all variations on the same sentiment.

Hey Bits. Jack talked to you recently? He’s not answering my emails. Thx.

Bruh is Jack giving you radio silence too?

Could you let Jack know I’ve sent him those spreadsheets? Calls aren’t going through. Thanks man.

Do you know if Jack’s gone away or something?

Have you talked to Jack?

Is Jack talking to you?

Have you talked to Jack?

Keep reading

Bruised

Request: Can you do an imagine where Peter and the reader (who he is dating) are sparing, and after they change out of their suits, Peter notices bruises on the reader and freaks out that he went to hard on them, only to find out that they are actually training a lot more than he originally thought. Maybe the reader has powers too? (I really love your stories! Keep up the awesome work!)

A/N: Damn, I enjoyed this one.

Word Count: 1,307

Warnings: Some sexual content? Not much.

Masterlist 

“Watch yourself, Parker. I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Oh don’t worry about me, Y/N,”

You and Peter were at the Avengers compound, training (Per Tony’s request). You had been training a lot more recently, Tony insisted that the two of you, being the youngest and most inexperienced Avengers, needed to practice sparing, especially in your suits.

Peter was in his Spidey suit, while you wore one similar to Natasha’s. Although, you were more than a trained assassin, you had powers as well. While your powers were somewhat similar to Wanda’s, you had them better under control. Some of the other Avengers often called you “mini Wanda” or “Mini Natasha”.

You enjoyed sparing with your boyfriend, Peter. You were both very strong, the only downside is that Peter was faster.

It was the third time this week that you and Peter were sparring. He always insisted on doing it almost everyday, knowing it would please Tony.

“Need a break, Y/N?” Peter asked.

“Oh please, are you sure it’s not you that needs the break?”

Peter threw a punch that you dodged. You quickly kicked up your leg and hit his side.

“Nice hit, Y/N”

You ignored Peter’s comment and swung your arm towards him. Peter grabbed your wrist and twisted your arm around, flipping you over so you landed on your back.

“C'mon, Y/N, let’s keep going,”

“Just give me a minute,” you breathed.

You had your hand pressed tight against your ribs. The sparing had really been taking a toll on you physically. Having a mission every once and a while wasn’t all that bad, but fighting Peter every day has left you quite sore and bruised.

“Did I hurt you?” Peter asked, worryingly.

He offered you his hand to help you up. You accepted his offer and struggled to get up while keeping pressure on your ribs.

“I think I’m done for the day,”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you, Y/N. You know I’d never do it on purpose,  right?”

“I know, Pete. Let’s just clean up and get outta here,”

Peter started to put all the equipment away while you caught your breath.

“Do you want me to help you up to your room?” Peter offered.

“No, I’ll be fine,”

You both started heading out of the gym, towards the elevator. You winced with every step you took. Your lungs felt compressed, you were afraid you would roll on your ankle with every step you took. You clenched your teeth and tried to hold in the pain, not wanting Peter to know how much he had hurt you from the past few weeks of sparing.

Peter worryingly walked beside you, carefully watching you.

You were both silent on the elevator trip up to your floor.

“Do you need anything, Y/N?” Peter asked, walking you to your bedroom door.

“Actually, could you get me some ice for my ribs? They’re slightly aching,”

“Of course,” Peter placed a quick kiss on your lips and ran off down the hall.

You slowly made your way into your room. You were tempted to just lay down on your bed and stay there, but you stunk like sweat and could really use a hot shower.

You managed to pull your pants off no problem, but the intricate design of the top is where you knew you were going to struggle.

After a few moments, you managed to get off the jacket and shirt underneath “fuck you and your designs, Stark,”

You stood in the centre of your room in only your sports bra and underwear when the door opened.

“Y/N, I have ice,”

Peter closed the door behind him, and turned towards you. He froze when he saw you.

“Oh my god,” he said quietly.

You looked up at Peter. He had a solemn look on his face.

You looked down at yourself and your body was covered in bruises and cuts. There were purple and yellow marks all over your body.

Peter walked closer to you. He dropped the bag of ice on the floor and placed a hand gently on your waist, while he traced his other hand along your stomach over your bruises. You winced when his fingers touched your ribs.

“Did I do this to you?” He whispered.

You bit your lip, but didn’t answer.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry,”

“It’s okay, Peter. I’ve had worse,”

“Y/N, you’re covered in bruises. I can’t believe I hurt you like this,”

You lightly pressed a hand against the side of his face, “Peter, I’m okay, really,”

“No, Y/N, you can barely walk,”

“But I can still walk. I’ll heal soon, my dear. But maybe we can cut down on these sparring sessions,” you said

Peter nodded. You continued to stand there with Peter. His fingers lightly hovering over your bruises.

“I’m so sorry, baby,”

Peter leaned down and placed a kiss on your lips. You moved your lips against his, wrapping one arm around the back of his neck.

Peter’s grip on your waist tightened and you flinched from the pain.

Peter let go of you. You could tell he was in just as much pain as you were. He was so upset he had hurt you as much as he had.

“Hey Parker, do you think you could help me with something?” You asked

“I could definitely use a hot shower, and by the smell of things, so could you,”

Peter gave you a small smile.

“Would it help if I carried you to your bathroom?”

“No, no it’s fine. I’ll walk,”

Peter walked slowly beside you as you hobbled over to the bathroom. Peter closed the door behind you.

You tried to pull your bra off over your head, Peter stopped you and lifted it over your head.

“Thanks Parker but I think if you’re going to help me you might need to take that Spidey suit off,”

“Mm why don’t we finish you off first, darling,” Peter said.

He slowly bent down, placing light kisses down your stomach Until he reached your underwear.

Peter slipped his fingers in the side of your underwear and pulled your underwear down. You stepped out of the pair and moved to the side while Peter stood up and pressed the centre of his suit.

He let the suit fall off his body and then stripped off his underwear.

“You have bruises everywhere too Parker,”

“Yeah, but I can still walk. And I have much fewer bruises,”

“Which really makes no sense, since I’ve gotten many more hits in than you,” You said

“You wish,”

Peter rolled his eyes and moved past you to turn on the water.

“Let me help you in,”

You took Peter’s hand and he helped you step over into the tub. Peter stepped in behind you and closed the curtain.

You stepped forward and let the water cascade down your body. Peter came up behind you and pressed his chest against your back. He wrapped his arms around you.

“Careful Parker,”

Peter pressed a kiss against the back of your neck

“I’m really sorry I hurt you, Y/N,”

“You really need to stop apologizing,”

“From now on we’re not sparing as often,”

Peter pressed another light kiss against your neck, “I love you Y/N,”

“I love you too, Parker,”

First “Date?” (Peter Parker x reader)

Originally posted by jessikaort

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Peter and Y/N both hope that this friendly hangout is something a bit more in each others minds.

Requested: yes (anonymous)

Warnings: slight language

Man, I am on a roll today lmao! Hope you all like it!:) requests are open! I have some I’m putting out tomorrow! Here’s my masterlist!

MASTERLIST

_____________________________________________________________________________

Your hair was not on your side today. The one day you actually decide to care about your appearance, your hair wants to be an evil little shit. You lifted your hands up to the top of your head, using your thumb and forefinger you attempted to flatten out the stray hair that kept wanting to pop itself back up. Finally getting your hair in tact, you sigh heavily, looking down at yourself in the mirror. Smoothing your skirt don with the palms of your hands you began to feel the anxiety build up in your system. This was your first date ever.

Okay, maybe you shouldn’t call it a date. Peter texted and asked you to come over hang out for the night. Of course, you being the obnoxious, wide-eyed loser who loved Peter, you took it very seriously. This was the first time you and Peter were going to hang out alone. No Ned, Michelle, or Liz even. Just the two of you.

Oh god, you think you’re going to be sick.

The nerves flooded your thoughts and body almost in instinct just thinking about being with Peter alone for more than five minutes. You didn’t want to be a nervous wreck, but you were. You shouldn’t be a nervous wreck. Peter was one of your best friends, you knew everything about the other, it wasn’t going to be awkward.

Unless you made it awkward.

Which you are bound to do. Peter just made you extremely nervous. His small, opened mouth smile was something you could never get tired of. Especially when it was directed at you. You felt like you were floating on Cloud Nine whenever he looked at you like that. His dazzling brown orbs were always radiating something, but you could never quite put your finger on it. You didn’t mind it though, they were extremely alluring to look at.

One  thing he would do quite often was, whenever Michelle made a joke or Ned laughed so hard it became contagious, making you laugh almost as hard, Peter would switch his attention to you it seemed, his structured yet soft features perked up at your laughter, eyes squinting in happiness at your joyous state. You had no idea the deep, enticing feeling had for him were recuperated.

His feelings for you were just as strong, if not stronger. He adored when you would slump into school, Y/E/C eyes tired, with no makeup on, completely bare faced. When the features you despised so much, hiding every day from the world, were exposed to his eyes, his heart did an enormous leap. His brown orbs would scan your face, taking in every line, crinkle, imperfection and smiled softly to himself.

One of his favorite things to watch you do was take your Y/H/C, Y/H/T (hair type) and softly pull the strands away from framing your face to behind your ears, in a messy bun, leaving a few loose strands around to frame your face. You drew his entire self in with almost everything you did, and you had no idea. It may sound a bit lavish, but he was mesmerized by you. Everything you did enhanced him. So, when you agreed to come over tonight to hangout he was ecstatic. He yearned for you to see this night as a date. And you did.

“Oh, cm'on! Captain America could beat the shit out of Iron Man. He’s got the shield,” you hollered, throwing your hands up as you shoved a fistful of popcorn into your mouth.

Peter rolled his eyes, scooting closer to you on the couch, throwing his right arm out into the air, “I’m telling you Y/N, there’s no way. You have to look at the physics aspect of it! That thing does not obey the laws of physics at all,” he said confidently, his scratchy voice chuckling after his statement.

You two were arguing about who would win in an Avengers battle. Peter swore up and down that Iron Man could beat the living hell out of anybody that got in his way, and you weren’t so sure. He went on for minutes, discussing how the entire battle would go down if such action did happen. You stared at him strangely, due to the fact that every key point he made was in such grave detail.

He sighed heavily once he was able to catch a breath. You laughed lightly and cocked your head to the side, “You literally sound like you could have been there once it happened,” you laughed at his exasperated state.

“Well, detail is key to any good story,” he let out, eyes wandering to every where else in the room, except to meet yours. You stared at him skeptically, but shrugged it off because it just sounded like Peter was being Peter.

You sat in uncomfortable silence for a couple of seconds, your eyes floating around the small living room, pairing your eyes with whatever you could fine, just not Peter’s. You sensed a heavy sigh emit from him after a couple of seconds, your brain picking up on the signal of boredom.

You’re being awkward. Stop being awkward! Why are you just sitting in silence?! Not opening your wide trap is worse than sitting here in uncomfortable, stiff silence for minutes!

You feel your cheeks flush as you intake a deep breath, breaking the wall of silence between you two as he glanced your way, catching his attention. Before a back and forth toss up in your on whether to break the silence thoroughly, you cough before speaking, “So, how was your chemistry-”

“Beep beep!”

You were cut off by the sound of Peter’s phone lighting up, signalling a text. Your attention snaps from him to the phone sitting behind you on the  table.

“Oh! Sorry, I just need to check and make sure it’s not May freaking out,” he then leaned his body completely over your frame, hovering over you.

Your heart quickened at your sudden closeness as you felt your face turn from a standard pink to a deep red. His knees dug into the couch right next to your legs, the heat radiating off your entire body, you attempted to hide the nervousness evident on your face before Peter sat back down. You could here the clicking of the keyboard on his phone for a short time before hearing the ‘swoosh’, letting you know he had answered the text, placing his phone back down.

The next thing you know, Peter’s frame had moved from hovering over you to right in front of you. Your eyes moved towards his, his beautiful eyes staring intently into yours, and at such a close proximity, you could see little flecks of light brown detected around his iris. Your eyes then made their way from his eyes to lips, and back and forth for what felt like centuries. He copied your actions, his eyes finding their way down to your lips as he leaned closer to you.

You didn’t know what moving was at this point. He had you locked in a trance, and you weren’t about to dare yourself to try and escape it. Your breaths mixed together, and the closer he got, the closer you became to exploding from happiness. Before you knew it, his lips found yours in a searing kiss.

Your eyes immediately shut as you brought your lips closer to his if it was even possible. He placed his strong hands on the back of the couch, on either side of your shoulders. You felt all of your worries wash away as his lips came off and back onto yours. Your hands found themselves in his hair, softly tugging at the strands.

Due to loss of breath, Peter pulls away, breathless. His eyes searched yours, your mouth slightly open for lack of breath. You stared at each other for seconds before he muttered, “W-Well, I really hope you don’t just think of this as a hangout.”

You smiled widely at him, “With just you, Peter Parker? I would never dream of it.”