swallow flash

Forgive Me, Father

Summary: You find an unusual customer at your workplace, and end up getting more than you bargained for when you offer to take him to a back room
Square Filled: Virginity
Sam x Reader
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: NSFW, smut, loss of virginity, Priest!Sam, Stripper!Reader
Words: 3,720 (now you know why it took so long
Written for @spnkinkbingo

Your name: submit What is this?

You spotted him as soon as you walked into the room; he looked so out of place, standing by the doorway, away from the dancers and other patrons.

You walked over to him, swaying your hips and flicking your hair over your shoulder to get his attention.

You loved your job, and days like this - people like this - made you love it even more.

“Good evening, father,” you smiled over the music, running your hands up his lapels, “What’s a man like you doing in a place like this?”

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|| True Love ||

[prompt: soulmate au where you and your soulmate are connected by a visible red string where only a few people can see.]

ohhh boy, this is going to be told in a different way than most of my other peter parker imagines in that there is a third character involved (much like how ||a different story|| was) and how it is based on reader and peter’s relationship through THEIR eyes.

Once you read the story, you’ll know what I mean ;)

warnings: none

permanent tags: @psychicwitchphilosopher , @pharaohkiller , @moonlight53

peter parker only tags: @buckysendoftheline , @1022bridgetp , @potterjamesharry

**don’t plagiarize/repost this story. reblogs are fine**


Flash never knew the reason why he was given this ‘gift’ of being able to see everyone’s red string of fate.

Now, being a sophomore in high school, Flash didn’t need to worry about seeing any of the red strings connected to anyone else since everyone was too young to have found their soulmate at such an early age. Sure, it was an annoyance to see the constant bits of red in his periphery, but in a way, the young man was used to it.

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paolarq  asked:

Sooo, about te soulmate prompts, how about number 3 with an accidental reveal and the other doesn't know how to tell because a lot of people have appeared with fake marks. (Patater if possible) thank you!!!

3: The one where you and your soulmate have matching marks on your bodies.

The locker room is all abuzz when Tater walks in. It’s too early in the morning and his brain can’t completely process the flurry of English, but it sounds like everyone is talking about someone’s soul mark. Tater ignores it for the most part and focuses on drinking his coffee and changing into his weight room clothes. He figures someone will clue him in later, when he’s more coherent.

He figures correctly. It only takes about five minutes on the bike for someone (Snowy) to join him and ask if he’s heard the news. Apparently, Kent Parson’s soul mark has been leaked.

Snowy tells Tater the whole story and Tater’s heart breaks for Parson right away. He’d hooked up with someone (a guy, which of course adds more fuel to the crazy train) and after he fell asleep, the guy removed his mark cover and took a photo of it. It’s the ultimate breach of confidentiality, a person’s soul mark is the most private and personal thing in the world. It’s something that should only be shared when someone wants it to be shared. And now, the whole world knows what Kent Parson’s mark is without his permission.

Snowy tells Tater that it happened over the weekend and now there are a whole bunch of people showing up at the Aces practices with fake marks, claiming to be Parson’s soulmate. It’s an absolute nightmare for the organization and for Parson, who’s remained tight-lipped.

“The crazy thing is, his mark is so detailed. People are getting his mark tattooed on them but they’re so obviously fake,” Snowy says. “It’s cool, though. It’s this crazy looking tiger right on his forearm. Kinda where yours is.”

Snowy taps Tater’s cover with his fingertips and Tater freezes. He can feel the blood drain from his face. Russians are typically very open about their soul marks, but it’s well-known that Tater is protective of his.

“Sorry dude,” Snowy says immediately.

“What kind of tiger?” Tater asks quietly, his heart racing.

Snowy’s eye brows raise and he pulls out his phone. He brings up the photo of Parson’s mark and Tater swallows hard. In a flash, Snowy is pulling him off the bike and into the hallway, away from their teammates. His grip on Tater’s wrist is tight, though Tater could easily break free if he wanted to. Snowy finds an empty room to pull Tater into and shuts the door behind them.

“Am I reading this wrong?” Snowy asks, his hand resting lightly on Tater’s cover.

Tater takes a shaky breath. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if he can even form words right now. So he reaches down and unbuckles the clasp on his cover. He pops the buttons, unzips the zipper, and eventually pulls it slowly down his arm.

He doesn’t have to look at it to know. He’s seen his mark so many times he would recognize it anywhere. He’s traced every line with his fingertips, wondering when he’d finally get to meet his other half. Tater hears the way Snowy sucks in a breath when he sees it and he knows he’s not imagining anything.

“Holy shit,” Snowy says. “Holy fucking shit.”

Tater doesn’t know what to do. He hardly knows Parson and yet now he knows they’re soulmates. The question is, where does he go from here? He and Snowy have to get back to working out and then they have to practice, which fortunately gives Tater the time to think it all over. By the time Snowy pushes his way into Tater’s apartment, Tater has just about processed the information. Kent Parson is his soulmate.

They talk over dinner and come to a shared conclusion. Tater has to tell Parson, but he has to wait until he can do it face to face. This isn’t the kind of thing you want to do over the phone or even something like FaceTime. It wouldn’t be fair to either him or Kent to do that. It also makes sense to wait until he can tell Parson in person because his life is probably crazy right now. He’s got a lot going on, with his sexuality and his mark both public knowledge. Plus the people trying to claim to be his soulmate.

That bothers Tater a lot more than he originally thought. He doesn’t like the idea of other people trying to claim his soulmate from him. Even when he’s only met Parson a few times on the ice as rivals. Snowy laughs when he says that, and calls him a jealous fuck. But Tater just shrugs. He thinks he’s allowed to be jealous when it comes to his soulmate.

Tater isn’t happy about waiting. They don’t play the Aces again for another month. That’s an entire month he has to think about what he’s going to say. That’s an entire month he has to worry about Parson not accepting him as his soulmate. It’s an entire month for him to hide this information from everyone he knows besides Snowy.

Tater seriously owes him a bottle of the best vodka Russia has to offer.

It’s Hard to Balance | Part iii

Description: When the papers go through and the Reader’s last name is altered to Stark, there’s a lot more attention on her than expected. Most of it comes from Flash Thompson, who confronts her about her sudden popularity. As her date with Peter nears, an event occurs that just might change if it will occur or not.

Words: 1799

Notes: Nevermind, I DO know where this series is going, up to a certain point. If you have any suggestion or requests, here’s my ask.

Characters: Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Flash Thompson, Michelle “MJ” Jones, Peter Parker.

Ships: Avengers x Superpowered!Reader, Peter Parker x Superpowered!Reader


“Our top story today is the adoption of Y/N L/N-Stark, a student at our very own Midtown Highschool.” One of the student newscasters said, trying to sound confident but was otherwise awkward and slow. His co-caster began another round of words about you and Tony, while pictures of you, him, and Natasha at the event he’d hosted for you. Like a “welcome home” party, I guess. Tony had said, hugging you to his side by the shoulder. You turned away from the TV in the hallway, facing your phone with a sigh of annoyance.

They’re all looking at me, Nat - You texted desperately.

Look away from them. Keep your eyes ahead, where you’re walking, not down at your feet so you seem shy. - Nat instructed, and you could hear the change in her tone of voice from “have a good day at school!” to “I’m going to teach you how to crush a man with your thighs”.

Think about Peter - Nat

With the command came a dark heat to your cheeks, as you suddenly remembered your date with Peter was in a day. That cute boy had something planned too, hopefully, a romantic dinner or a picnic on one of the cities tallest buildings. Knowing he was Spiderman came with some serious perks. You found yourself daydreaming as you approached your locker…

Peter hung from a strand of web above you, his mask’s upside-down eyes flickering about your face and devouring every detail. He wished to touch you, but couldn’t, knowing with his clumsiness he would lose his grip on his web and crash into the cement below you. With careful hands, you unraveled the lower part of his mask to his nose, revealing his soft lips to the rain. He licked them nervously, feeling himself slowly fall into another daydream as you took his face in your hands. He inched downward so your lips were level with his, before leaning in and—

You jumped abruptly with the slam of your locker, directly in front of your face. You turned to your right, to the person who had slammed your locker, scowling when you met Flash’s eyes.”So, Y/N, you weren’t lying.” He said, trying to act sly and displaying his expensive watch to you.

“Why would I?” You countered.

“I have an offer to make you.” Flash ignored your question, slicking back his hair and leaning against the lockers,”Now that you’re Tony Stark’s daughter, you’re going to become very popular. What with my father being incredibly wealthy too, I say we make an alliance and become the ultimate power couple.”

You shivered involuntarily, stepping back once and trying to withhold the rude face you had planned on making in response. It gave when anyway when Flash said his next words,”Go out with me.

“Sorry,” You said, face folding into that of slight disgust. You wanted to say something along the lines of “I don’t date bullies” but swapped it for,”I… I like someone else.”

He slammed his fist against the locker next to yours,”Who the hell would be a better choice than me?!” Flash demanded. You turned away from him, rolling your eyes. With that distraction, you nearly slammed into Peter’s chest, but he caught you by the shoulders. He brightened when he saw you, appearing out of the sea of the students like a lifeboat, ready to save you,”Hey, Y/N! Are we still on for tomorrow?” He wondered.

You nodded, blushing,”Yeah—”

“Wait, you like Penis PARKER?!” Flash exclaimed. You and Peter both gave slow, confused nods before you smiled at Peter in parting and left for your first morning class with Michelle. You left a blushing Peter and a fuming Flash in your wake.


The text was normal, and sounded exactly like your friend; without elaboration and incredibly vague, often suddenly inconvenient. Peter and Ned bid you goodbye, Ned wishing you a good night and Peter grinning a “see you later” in reference to your date later in the afternoon. Flushing, you made your way to the music room, where one of your closest friends had requested your presence.

You peered into the window on the door, not seeing her or anyone inside. Knowing your friend, she was probably tucked away somewhere, reading on her phone. But then why did you feel so apprehensive? This was one of your usual meeting spots after school, and she was incredibly in character when texting you…

Regardless, you opened the door, calling out to her,”Hey, (Friend’s Name), I got your text!”

You were suddenly assaulted with a number of things; cold, gooey liquid fell down your back and over your hair, while two students (one of them your friend) rushed forward with two buckets. Glitter rained over your glue-covered self like confetti to celebrate your embarrassment, feathers following soon after ward. Luckily, none had gotten in your eyes or anywhere near your face, but your hair was soaked in glue and your clothes were covered too. As the feathers and glitter began to stick, you felt your face become hotter and your vision began to blur.

“THAT’S what you get for rejecting me!” Flash sniggered, dumping the remains of the bucket of glue on you from the ladder he stood on. Your friend, the one who had messaged you’re to come to the music room, was laughing with Flash’s lackey, pointing at you. A camera’s flash made you wince, and your friend displayed the embarrassing photo of you on her phone. Shoving past you as they left the room, Flash hollered,”Have a nice day, Iron Girl!

Horror and embarrassment lit up your features, ricocheting down your spine and into your veins like cold water; or in this case, cold glue. You choked on a sob, finally accepting that your life would never be right. If anything, you deserved this if you were the person your mother claimed you were. There had to be a reason everyone treated you so terribly.

You pushed off the ground and into a sprint, your shoes sticking to the tiled floor with every step. Not only was it going to take hours to get the clue of your hair, it meant that you couldn’t go on the date with Peter. Your friend had also betrayed you, the picture she had taken most likely on every mass-followed social media account she had.

You needed to get your phone from your locker, which you had planned to grab on your way out with (Friend’s Name). Seeing as your plans had changed, you stumbled up to it, fumbling with the lock with tears steadily falling down your face. Your breathing pattern sounded like a broken engine, breath hitching repeatedly as you sucked on air. Your hands were gooey with glue and your lock was jammed, resulting in you falling against the lockers and slowly sliding down to the floor.

You bent your head between your knees, shoulders shaking with every painful sob. You were sure this is the most unattractive you’d ever felt; your face, red and crummy from crying and your eyes puffy and scarlet. And then there was your current attire, feathered, sticky, and glittery.

“Y/N?” A voice from down the hall called, and you decided that the universe must hate you, it really must if he was coming this way. He couldn’t see you like this.” Oh my god, Y/N…” Peter whispered, taking off down the hall. He stopped in front of you, dropping to his knees and trying to view your face. But you wouldn’t let him, only sobbing louder at his sudden appearance.

“What ar-are you doing here, Pet-Peter?” Your voice was muffled by your jeans, and you could only hide your face further, squeezing your own little ball as tight as possible. Peter’s hand fell to your hair, moving the sticky locks out of the way of your face,”I forgot my phone in my locker. Who did this to you?” He questioned softly, gently rubbing a hand down your back.

“F-flash.” You swallowed, desperately hoping he’d leave and silently begging him to stay at the same time,” Him, (Friend’s Name), and some other guy.” You whimpered. Peter gently coaxed you to show him your face, hands collecting your cheeks so he could view your visage. He planted a kiss on your temple, unraveling you from your limbs and binding you inside his embrace instead.

“I don’t thi-think I can go on our date, looking like this.” You murmured, sniffling immensely as you bound your arms around him,”I don’t think I could anyway… you deserve better than me, Peter.” You weeped, causing Peter to shake his head frantically, lifting your gaze higher as to be at eye-level with you.

“No, no, Y/N.” He whispered. Peter gently wiped your tears, cheeks clammy and damp with your own misery. Your breath hitched constantly now, every time your breathed and every time you spoke. You really did sound like a sputtering engine. But Peter didn’t mind, giving you a small squeeze against his chest,”Listen, Y/N.”

He adjusted his seated place on the school's’ empty tiled hallway,”I don’t deserve you,” Peter whispered into your temple, stroking your cheek as he talked,”You’re perfect. Utterly perfect. I love… everything about you. I love how kind you are, I love how protective you are, I love how beautiful you are….I love… you.” Peter confessed. He licked his lips nervously, glancing down at you,”I really do. I think I have since like… the sixth grade?” He guessed.

Your voice was soft, barely audible above your irregular breathing,”I love you too, Peter.”

There was a pause, where the only thing heard was your combined exhales and inhales, the soft curve of his thumb against your face, and the thundering beat of your hearts. You carefully slid to where you were no longer leaning against his shoulder, rather looking into his eyes from your place across from him. Peter gave the tiniest nod, a nod of permission, a nod of consent. It was lightning quick, the speed at which you pulled him in, the kiss sweet and desperate at the same time.

Peter’s hands remained against your cheeks, panting heavily with your parting kiss. You could only smile at him awkwardly, holding his wrists to keep his touch in place. You both began to giggle, leaning in to put your brow to his as you laughed. Gently, Peter stood, pulling you with him by the hand. You didn’t let go when he began to pull you along, gently wrapping your fingers with his.

“C’mon, Y/N, let’s go get you cleaned up.” Peter smiled, gladly leading your forward, your kiss still lingering on his lips like a cure to everything wrong with the world.

Black and grey flash sheet from last week.

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Night Falls: Chapter 20

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: After witnessing a murder, Y/N becomes a protected witness to FBI Agent Dean Winchester, who needs her help to do more than just solve one man’s murder.

Word Count: 3,971


A/N: Brace yourself, friends. 

In case you’re squirmish, it gets a little bloody below. Just a warning. 

Wanna be tagged? Shoot @attractiverandomness a note and a “thank you” for being my tag master savior!

Night Falls Master List

Your jaw clenches as you hang up the phone. Crowley plucks it from your hand before his henchman grabs your wrists and ties them behind the back of the chair you had been thrown into when you arrived at the warehouse.

After you had made your decision, the same man who was tying your wrists just a little too tight for comfort appeared in your apartment and gripped your arm, forcing you to stand with a grunt. A gun was waiting in his hand, and he had pressed it into your stomach as he led you from your apartment to an awaiting limo outside. 

It was late, so there was no one around to see you as you got shoved into the car. From the tinted windows, you could see the unmarked car that was parked right across the street, and you could see the face of an unknown agent, his head resting against the window with his eyes closed. If you hadn’t known any better, he looked like some guy napping in his car.  Your stomach clenched as you had to fight down the urge to be sick.

Crowley’s henchman–who seemed to have no name–climbed into the car behind you before Crowley joined you, someone outside closing the door once he was settled. The man with you had pulled you onto the seat with him and kept the cold barrel of the gun pressed against you. 

The three of you drove in silence for about thirty minutes until you had pulled up to a row of warehouses along the river. You had never been to this part of town before, not that you had any reason to before now. It looked like some sort of shipping yard–and with not a single person in sight. 

You had been dragged inside and thrown into the chair you were currently tied down to before Crowley had handed you a cell phone and instructed you to call Dean. 

You hated yourself for the choice you had made, but Dean was smart. He would figure out at some point that this was a trap, wouldn’t he? Your fingers had hesitated over the phone screen, second guessing your choice before Crowley’s man backhanded you across your cheek. 

The sting had burned and you hissed as your neck snapped to one side. It had been a warning to cooperate. 

So you called Dean and said a prayer that the two of you would make it out of this alive. 

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It’s all a blur after Cas dies.

Mary (he’s alternating between referring to her as ‘Mary’ and 'Mom’ in his head) threw Lucifer in with her through the tear into the alternate dimension and Dean barely had a chance to react.

It happened so quickly.

Sam looks at the spot where the tear was, then back at Cas, and then remembers Kelly, rushing inside. Dean faintly hears the patter of footsteps, but he can’t bite his tongue and leave.

He can’t tear away his eyes from Cas’ lifeless body.

He kneels quietly, yet broken. His fingers stroke the scorched wing marks. All the times Cas has died, Dean has never seen his wing marks.

It feels so…

So final.


“Cas,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Cas. Wake up, buddy.”

He shakes Cas, his stupid trenchcoat flapping with every shake and rustling in the wind.

Cas doesn’t open his eyes.

“Wake up, you dumbass,” Dean demands, close to tears. “I know you’re alive. Wake up. Wake up.”

His body stays stubbornly, resolutely dead.

Dean drops to his knees, now kneeling fully, and looks up to the sky. Why Cas? This angel, who’s stuck with him for more than a decade, an angel who’s given up Heaven and its soldiers and his family and his attempt at an apple pie life.

Why Cas?

“Cas,” he says again, and this time he is crying. “Cas. Come back, man. Come back. I need you here.

He stays dead.

Dean swallows, and his thoughts flash back to when Cas said those small three words.

If only he’d said them back when Cas was still alive.

He swallows again. "Cas…I-I love you.”

Those words are finally there, out in the open, not masked by any 'no homos’, pure and unadulterated. There’s no way to take this any differently, and Dean wishes somehow, Cas would say it back to him, now.

Those words are out, and Dean is full out sobbing.

But it doesn’t bring Cas back.

coreviolet  asked:

Karaoke night post-squip - feat. Boyf riends

It was a Sunday night, and Michael and Jeremy were at yet another party.

Jeremy said ‘another’ because it was a week until school was out, and their new friends really liked throwing parties. He hadn’t really minded at first – parties were fun! But it was starting to wear on him. You could only puke your guts out under an alcohol-induced haze so many times, he guessed. 

As soon as the door shut behind them, Jeremy and Michael were ambushed by Chloe, already drunk off her ass, and Brooke, hanging off her arm.

“You’re here!” Chloe squealed, giggling drunkenly. Then, she nudged Brooke. “Here, Heere. Get it?” 

Brooke smiled lazily and patted Chloe’s bicep. “Yeah. Nice.”

“We’re doing charaoke,” Chloe slurred. “Jeremy, your voice is decent. Come on.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him into the house, Brooke and Michael following close behind. Soon enough, they were swallowed by flashing lights and the bass line of an old nineties love song, and Jeremy tried not to breathe in the stench of teen body odor and alcohol. 

As they neared the end of the den, Chloe muttered something unintelligible and climbed up onto the miniature stage. To Jeremy’s mortification, she grabbed a microphone and said, “My boy Jeremy could be on fucking broadway and we’re gonna give him a shot tonight!” Only her speech was slurred and she drew out her vowels, so it sounded more like “weeeeee’re gonna give him a shoooot toniiiiiight!”

Behind him, Michael whispered, “Good luck!” and shoved him forwards. Jeremy stumbled up onto the stage next to Chloe.

Chloe grabbed his arm again and said, “I’m picking.” 

Jeremy groaned as her song selection popped up on the computer screen in front of him. “When I Was Your Man? Bruno Mars? Really, Chloe?” 

Chloe leaned towards him, swaying on her feet. “Just fucking sing, Jerry,” she said, and then Jeremy was alone on the stage. 

Jeremy glanced over the crowd, spreading his arms helplessly. “I am so, so sorry for what you’re about to experience,” he said. He prayed that nobody could hear the tremor in his voice. “But since I value my life, well…” He breathed a sigh of relief as chuckles spread through the gathering crowd before him. The first notes of the song spilled from Jake’s expensive-looking speakers, and Jeremy began to sway to the gentle piano against his will. The first line of the song appeared on the screen, and Jeremy inhaled. He shut his eyes against the strobe lights and faces below and started to sing. “Same bed, but it feels just a little bit bigger now.”

Somebody in the crowd whooped. He heard Michael mutter, “Holy shit.”

Our song on the radio, but it don’t sound the same,” he continued, pulling sound from deep in his chest.  “When all my friends talk about you, all it does is just tear me down.” Jeremy opened his eyes and looked out over the crowd. “And my heart breaks a little when I hear your name. It all just sounds like –” His gaze fell on Michael, whose mouth was hanging open. “Oooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh.” He sailed through the rest of the song, singing louder and louder, keeping his eyes on Michael. As the music faded out, Jeremy felt better and more alive than he had in ages. He couldn’t keep the dorky grin from spreading over his face.

Suddenly, all that as left was silence. Jeremy let out the rest of his breath. Everything was still for a moment. And then the crowd erupted, and Jeremy was bowing, and Michael was up on stage, hugging him and talking faster than Jeremy had ever heard him.

“Jeremy, Jeremy, Jesus Christ, that was amazing, why don’t you sing more often? Dude, you have to do that more, you could be a professional, wow–” 

Jeremy felt himself redden. Then, he had an idea. Maybe it was the natural high, or maybe it was something in the air, but he opened his mouth and said, “We’re going to do the next one together.”

Michael never really enjoyed parties, but he usually tagged along anyways. There needed to be at least one person with a car who wasn’t as high as a kite or drunker than his grandmother on New Year’s Eve. And maybe he had jumped around a little, shouting lyrics to the songs he liked, but he didn’t – couldn’t sing. 

He stepped back. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no.”

“I’ve heard you sing before. You’re good,” Jeremy said.

“Have you heard me sing?” 

Jeremy cleared his throat. “When you’re high –”

“Okay, okay, point proven,” Michael cut in. “But still, no.”

“Come onnn, Michael.” Jeremy poked him. “I’ll go with you!”

And then the song was starting and it was too late to save himself. Michael read the title on screen. Carry On, by fun.. He kind of knew that one. 

Deep breaths, he told himself.

Jeremy started. “Well, I woke to the sound of silence the cars, cutting like knives in fistfights.”

Michael glanced at the crowd and felt his legs tremble. 

Jeremy continued. “And I found you with a bottle of wineyour head in the curtains and heart –

Like the Fourth of July,” Michael sang. He was sure he was by now visibly shaking, but he told himself to keep going. He adjusted his voice to match Jeremy’s, and kept going, growing more and more confident with every line. 

When they reached the first “carry on”, Jeremy grabbed Michael’s hand and held it above his head. Michael felt his face flush, and hoped that everybody still watching would attribute it to his nerves, or maybe alcohol he hadn’t drunk. As the verse ended, Jeremy brought Michael’s hand down, but didn’t let go. Jeremy started swaying to the music, and Michael felt himself follow suit. He kept his fingers wound through Jeremy’s. 

The second time they came around to “carry on”, some of the crowd joined in. Michael started to understand people who performed for a living. Part of him felt like he could fly. On a whim, he grabbed one of the microphones from its stand and held it in front of his mouth, bending his knees as he started the “Whoa!”.  Michael was singing like he hadn’t known he could sing. He shut his eyes and let his voice go.

The song ended. The crowd turned away, and slowly, the low buzz of mindless conversation returned. Jeremy’s eyes were bright, and Michael couldn’t help but admire how beautiful his eyes were. Jeremy hugged Michael, and pulled back, beaming. He looked Michael directly in the eyes, and Michael couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze away.  They were breathing hard, and their faces were flushed, and Jeremy’s hair was adorably rumpled, and Michael felt his face redden again –

And then he was kissing Jeremy. No – Jeremy was kissing him. Michael stiffened, wondering for a split second if this was some kind of elaborate joke, before melting into the kiss. 

It was far from perfect. Michael’s glasses got in the way, and it wasn’t like either of them were experienced, but when they pulled back, Jeremy’s eyes were shining and Michael was the one beaming. 

“I love you so much right now,” Jeremy whispered, and Michael squeezed his hand.

“I love you too, Jer-bear.” he leaned his head against Jeremy’s shoulder. “I love you.”

Act Cool (Peter Parker x TheaterGeek!Reader)

WAnonymous: theatre geek!reader x peter parker? love your stuff btw  

A/N: Thank you for the request and the kind words!! I love YOU, Anon!! Also, you came to the right place for a Theater Geek reader!! Keep sending in requests, lovelies!! Enjoy!! xx (P.S. I am so sorry for the stupid Romeo and Juliet trope.)

Warnings: embarrassed/awkward Peter (so cuteness overload)

Originally posted by howardova

“Peter, you are not an actor,” Ned said flatly, cocking an eyebrow at his friend. 

Peter shrugged his shoulders before scratching the back of his head. “It doesn’t hurt to try something new though,” he mumbled in response.

“Why would you want…” Ned stopped himself for Peter’s attention was elsewhere. You had just walked out of the auditorium from theater practice. His eyes followed your every movement. For a few months now, you had been the only thing on Peter’s mind. Your smile captivated him and the way your eyes lit up when you got excited made Peter’s heart do somersaults. Peter was certain that if angels were real, you were one. Ned followed Peter’s gaze and a sly smile spread across his face. “I see. You’re not interested in quoting Shakespeare, you’re interested in being someone’s Romeo.”

Peter was snapped from his thoughts, realizing that he had been staring. He cleared his throat and stared at his hands in his lap. “I.. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh. Hey, (Y/N)!” If looks could kill, Ned would have dropped dead with the nasty glare Peter shot at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw your figure quickly coming closer. 

“Hi, Ned! Hey, Peter!” your cheery voice rang out. Peter gave you a feeble smile before dropping his gaze. You stood at the end of the lunch table, your hands on your hips and your smile lighting up the room. “What’s up, guys?”

“I heard that you are in need of a Romeo,” Ned said, Peter giving him a swift quick under the table. 

“Yeah, actually. Flash was going to do the part but he’s absolute trash at it,” you sighed heavily and Peter couldn’t help but snicker. “So we’re on the look out for someone new. Were you interested, Ned?”

Ned laughed at that. “No, not me. My buddy, Peter, here has been interested in the theater for awhile now. He is quite the thespian.”

Peter clenched his jaw and looked up at you nervously. He didn’t even know what the word ‘thespian’ meant. Peter was grateful that Ned wanted to play wing-man but did he have to talk him up like this? His nerves went into overdrive as he saw the bright smile on your face, the kind where your eyes crinkle up on the edges. “You would be the perfect Romeo!” you exclaimed. You clapped your hands together excitedly. “Want to stay after school with me and run over some lines? See if you want to do it?”

Peter swallowed nervously, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. His brain seemed to be on the fritz with your gorgeous eyes trained on him. “S-Sure,” he finally managed to say, his voice small. 

You bounced on your toes and almost squealed with excitement. You placed your hand gingerly on Peter’s shoulder and said in a low voice, “I am so glad you want to do this. I was afraid we would have to resort back to Flash.” You straightened yourself up and flashed Peter another toothy smile. “Meet me in the auditorium after the last bell. See ya, guys!” You turned on your heel and walked back to your group of theater friends, most likely to tell them the good news. 

Peter moved his fingertips to his shoulder, the ghost of the pressure on his shoulder still lingering. He finally let out the breath he had been holding and looked up at his chuckling friend. “You’re welcome, by the way,” Ned said through fits of laughter. 

Peter rolled his eyes and let them linger on you across the lunch room. Your back was to him but he could see your hands moving in excitement as you talked. As if you could feel him staring at you, you looked over your shoulder at him. You smiled softly and gave him a little wave before turning away. Peter looked back at Ned, frantic. “What’s a thespian?”

* * *

During Peter’s last class, he kept glancing at the clock, his leg bouncing nervously beneath his desk. Normally, Peter couldn’t wait for the last bell to ring. Then he was free to swing about the streets of Queens, being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Now, he wished the clock would slow down. He had never felt more nervous in his life. 

During his study hall, he spent the whole hour in the library reading through a tattered copy of Romeo and Juliet. He remembered reading it in freshman English but he hardly paid attention. Peter wanted to try to impress you by memorizing the balcony scene. That tattered copy of the play was currently in his lap. He’d glance down every now and then, muttering the lines under his breath. 

Peter jumped as the shrill school bell rang out. He quickly stuffed his things into his backpack before shuffling his way out of the classroom. Ned was already waiting for him in the hall. He slung an arm around Peter’s shoulders, a big grin on his face. “This is it, buddy. Time for you to get the girl,” Ned said excitedly. 

Peter felt like his stomach was going to drop out of him. His hands were extremely clammy and his breath was quick. He wasn’t even this nervous when facing off against half of the Avengers. 

Ned and Peter arrived at the double doors that led to the auditorium. Peter just stared at the wooden doors, not moving a muscle. Ned bumped Peter’s arm. “Dude, you going in?” he asked, worry in his voice. His friend looked like he was going to be sick. 

Peter slowly nodded, swallowing hard. His mouth was dry. “Y-yeah,” he mumbled. 

Ned shoved him towards the doors. “Well, go in and break a leg. Just act cool, dude.”

Act cool. Yeah, Peter just had to play it cool. How hard could this acting thing be anyway? Puffing out his chest, he pressed his palms against the cool wood and strode into the auditorium, Ned giving him one last pat on the back before leaving. The little confidence he had mustered deflated as he saw who was on stage. Flash was talking quickly at you while you stood there with your arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently. 

“We don’t need you, Flash,” you said, holding up a hand to stop him, “You never bother to practice and you have no respect for the stage. We found someone… Peter!” You waved to Peter, a broad smile gracing your face. Peter was frozen in fear. He was not expecting his bully to be here. 

“Penis Parker is my replacement? You’re kidding me,” Flash said smugly, now crossing his arms. 

You jumped from the stage and jogged down the aisle to meet Peter. “I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna come,” you whispered, a little out of breath. You reached out and took Peter’s hand in yours. “C’mon, let’s show Flash that you’re a million times better.” Your hand was so soft and fit so perfectly in his. You pulled him behind you towards the stage and towards a glowering Flash. Peter swallowed hard, averting his gaze. 

When the two of you reached the stage, you turned your back to it, placing your palms flat on the stage. You knew you weren’t the strongest so you grinned sheepishly at Peter before saying, “Wanna help me out here?”

Peter was glad that the rest of the auditorium was dark, so hopefully you couldn’t see the blush burning on his cheeks. “Yeah, okay,” he breathed. He stepped close to you, your perfume sending shivers down his spine. He never imagined he’d ever be this close to you. You stared up into Peter’s eyes with your own, twinkling ones. Tentatively, Peter placed his hands on your hips. He deftly lifted you up onto the stage. 

You gasped in surprise and smiled down at Peter who was now hauling himself onto the stage. “You’re strong, Peter. I hadn’t even jumped yet,” you said, playfully squeezing his bicep. Peter cracked a nervous smile before staring down at his sneakers. “Now, you get off the stage,” you shooed Flash off the stage. 

Nostrils flaring, he jumped from the stage and took a seat in the front row. “I’m gonna watch Parker totally suck at this,” he shouted, crossing his arms and smirking evilly at Peter. 

“Fine,” you said shortly, “you don’t mind Peter, do ya?” Peter shrugged his shoulders, stuffing his sweaty hands into his pockets. You clapped your hands together before turning and disappearing behind the curtain. Peter stood awkwardly, his back to Flash. He could feel Flash’s eyes boring into the back of his head. You came back with a fresh script in your hands and a smile on your face. 

You handed him the script and he took it with trembling hands. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“What was that, Parker? You have to speak up on stage!” Flash shouted from the audience, a snicker following his comment.

Peter bristled with irritation and he considered just leaving but you placed one gentle hand on his chest. Peter brought his gaze up from his shoes to your eyes. They were soft and filled with a kindness that made Peter’s heart melt. You spoke in a soft voice, “Hey, don’t listen to him. He’s just mad. When you’re up here, it’s just you and I. The stage is a whole other world where Flash doesn’t exist.” 

Peter smiled back at you, nodding swiftly. You patted his strong chest, a little surprised to feel muscle like that under his shirt. You shook the thought from your head and strode across the stage, climbing onto what looked like a half-finished balcony. “Are… Are we doing the balcony scene?” Peter asked, trying to sound confident. 

“Yes!” you shouted, happy that he was already familiar with the play. “Your lines should be highlighted in there so let’s just take it from the top.” 

Peter remembered that the scene was Act II Scene II so he flipped through the script to the right page. He looked up at your smiling face, waiting for him to begin. He opened his mouth to begin reciting what he had memorized but nothing came out. He couldn’t remember the lines. His heart began to drum fast again and the script shook in his hands. He quickly dropped his gaze to the script and began to read, more monotonously than he intended, “But soft. What light through yonder window breaks…”

Flash began to laugh hysterically from the front row. Peter gripped the script tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white. “Shut up, Flash!” you growled from your perch. Peter hesitantly looked up at you. You were sitting on the ledge, your legs adorably swinging beneath you. You adorned a smile as your gaze turned on him. “Remember what I said Peter. Now, with some emotion this time. Pretend that you are deeply, madly in love with me and that I am the only girl you can bear to think about.”

Peter straightened himself up, finding a new confidence. Peter wouldn’t have to pretend at all. Dropping the script to the ground and locking his eyes with yours, Peter placed a hand over his heart and began, “But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Juliet is the Sun…” Peter continued his monologue perfectly. 

A heat began to rise to your cheeks as he said his lines, his eyes never leaving yours. Had his eyes always had flecks of gold in them? You had always thought Peter was cute and very sweet but hearing Shakespeare pass his pink lips made you tingle all over. Even if it was your least favorite play, you couldn’t help but feel like you were falling in love. “…O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!” 

Peter stood motionless, his hand raised to you and the other still on his chest. You didn’t say anything. Had he messed something up? Was it that terrible? “I.. I think it’s your line,” he said, his nerves coming back. The entire time he spoke, he truly felt that it was only you and him in the world. Now, he could feel Flash’s eyes on him. 

“That was perfect,” you breathed, not even caring that it was your line. Flash scoffed from his seat and Peter couldn’t help but melt into a smile. 

“Really?” he asked, dropping his hands. 

You nodded as if you were in a daze, never taking your eyes off of Peter and his strong jaw. You weren’t even paying attention as you tried to slip down from the balcony. Peter rushed up to you, helping you down. His hands lingered at your waist as your feet hit the floor, your hands on his shoulders. Peter noticed your gaze flick between his eyes and his lips. “I think we’re going to practice Act I, Scene V now,” you breathed, your sweet breath tickling Peter’s face. 

Flash made a noise of disgust before saying, “Gross. I’m out of here then.” He picked up his bag and left the auditorium in a huff. 

You let a soft giggle escape before nervously stepping away from Peter, slightly missing the feeling of his hands on you. “From that recitation I doubt you’ll need to but look over Scene V and we’ll take it from the top of Romeo and Juliet’s meeting. I-I’ll be right back.” You practically fled the stage, a hand against your burning cheek. You needed to calm yourself down.

Peter stared after you, his heart soaring. He picked up the script and flipped to the scene you spoke of. Truly, the balcony scene was the only part he paid attention to. His eyes scanned Romeo and Juliet’s banter but two words in the action notes stuck out like beacons: They kiss. Peter was really going to like this whole acting thing.

A/N: I’m sorry it took so long to get it out here!! I had a lot of fun writing this!! It’s so cute!! Let me know what other kinds of fics you’d like to see!! xx

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Screw Up (Dean x Reader)

Pairing: Dean x Reader
Warnings: none
Word Count: 789

    After a particularly bad hunt you would usually go to the nearest bar and drown your problems in whiskey or beer; whichever you had a higher alcohol content. But the half-full bottle of painkillers you had downed earlier had warned you not to drink any alcohol for a couple of hours. So, while the long gash on your side thanked you, your sober mind did not.

    Instead of feeling sorry for yourself and moping in your motel room, you decided to go the only bar in town: a rundown old building with a gravel parking lot. Once you arrived you promptly consumed the most sugary drink you could find in the hopes of substituting the buzz of alcohol with a sugar high.

    It wasn’t going very well.

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The Day Always Ends

Originally posted by superwholockmarauder

Characters: Y/n, Dean, Castiel


Warnings: Fluff, mentions of smut, cuteness, happiness, sadness, regret, hinted alcoholism, general sadness in the end!!

Word Count: 1920

Summary: Dean has the perfect day. But…Dean’s day always has to come to an end. 

A/N: Ok, so some angst cos…it’s what happened today!! I…I’m hoping this breaks u. If not, dammit!! If it did, woohoo!! Hope u like it!!

Tagged Peeps: @waywardsons-imagines@whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @sallyp-53 @salvatorexwinchester@helvonasche @notnaturalanahi @wayward-mirage@riversong-sam@nerdflash @miss-miep @impala-dreamer@mypeopleskillsarerusty0203@greek-geek481@chelsea072498 @deals-with-demons@plaidstiel-wormstache@impalaimagining@deathtonormalcy56@scorpiongirl1 @the-latina-trickster@aingealcethlenn@squirels-angels-and-moose @meganwinchester1999 @cubs2019-blog @lucifer-in-leather


Dean awoke with a smile on his face.

Today was the day.

The day he’d get everything he ever wanted.

He looked down at you, your face practically stuck to his bare chest, a little bit of drool collecting there.

Had you been anyone else, he’d have rolled you right off.

But it was you. There was nothing about you he didn’t love.

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The Sun Still Rises - Fic

I wrote a little AU today and it’s a bit of happy accident that it fits perfectly with today’s Pharmercy week prompt of AU/Fairy Tale. Click here to read it on ao3 if you prefer that format.

It’s a late 40′s/early 50′s AU inspired by this music video (I would recommend watching it beforehand for atmosphere), but I promise my ending is much better. :>

They had met three years past in the deserted forest trail down the road, into the farmlands. At the time, Fareeha had considered the overgrown trail to be hers—it was her escape, her shade, her apple trees. With anyone else, she might have been territorial. But Angela was a kindred spirit. Fareeha saw it in her eyes: the way they wandered, flitting between hope and defeat and unexpressed betrayal. So long as it was Angela, Fareeha didn’t mind that someone else knew about her place; it felt right to share it with her. Fareeha only felt completely at peace when she was sitting in the shade and listening to birds chirp, Angela’s quiet presence beside her.

There was something different about the two of them, and though unnamed, unarticulated, it bound them. It was a shared understanding, a shared isolation. For many years, they did not dig deeper than that. While escaping the world they had found each other, and that was all Fareeha could bring herself to express.

Angela was the girl down the street. She wore blouses, flowing skirts, and sweet smiles.

Fareeha loved her too much.

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my hometown still calls the Santa Cruz river a river.
the Santa Cruz river calls itself a Dust Death. Only Full
When God or Satan or Jan Brewer Says So. Only Alive
When It’s Considered A Monster. monsoons are no joke—
i watched a flash flood swallow a sedan whole when i was
eight years old. i watched purple-black clouds give birth
to a whole river-ful of water every summer for 17 years,
and i don’t think i soaked in any of it. i think i was born
dehydrated. always greedy for the basic necessities.
always slow-dancing with people that were trying
to turn me into the wash behind the house i grew up in.
look at all the dirty coins still in my mouth. all the
snake skins and broken beer bottles in my hands.
i left the Southwest six and a half months ago,
and i am still a shrine to everything the heat leaves behind.
i live a mile away from another river now. i’ve only
ever seen it once. the locals tell me it’s fun to float down
every summer. you just need a tube and a little bit
of bravery—the current can carry you so fast
it feels like you’ve stopped being real for a minute.
it feels like everything is trying to swallow you whole.
—  one more poem about rivers (after Leon Bridges) by Lydia Havens

anonymous asked:

Hello! May I please ask for a scenario with Reiner and his first date with with his GF, then he realizes that he really fell hard for her. Sorry if it sounds weird ( ̄◇ ̄;) thank you so much for this blog!

Thank-you so much for the compliment, anon! I know this isn’t really what you asked for, but I got inspired so I hope it’s okay. ;u; Enjoy! 


Despite how tired, battered, and war-torn his body was, Reiner Braun could detect the sound of your voice from a million miles away. From the crowd, you pushed through the group of Eldians who had been awaiting their return, the tell-tale sign of tears beading in the corners of your eyes.

He dropped his bags to the dirt and met you half-way, large and muscular arms encircling around your waist in order to draw you in closer. It had felt like ages since he had last seen your face—since he had last had the chance to hold you—and he wasn’t about to sacrifice or give up even an ounce of the small, precious time he had with you.

Fingers curled into the fabric of his military jacket, you rested your cheek against his chest, simply content to finally wrap your arms around him. It didn’t matter that there were dozens of people staring at both of you with wistful expressions and you didn’t care if Gabi was going to give you hell for public displays of affection because Reiner was here and he was alive. “I missed you,” you breathed into his jacket, prompting him to tighten his grip around you for a moment.

“Me too.” His voice was strained from exhaustion but Reiner was not ready to let you go. By the time his mother and family appeared off to the side, he reluctantly let go of you and reached down for your hand, interlocking your fingers together as he began to talk among his family. As you happily conversed with his family about plans for dinner, Reiner couldn’t help but wonder how he had managed to get so lucky to have you by his side.

You were brave—much braver than he could ever dream to be. The two of you had met as children in the soldier program and, despite his short-comings, you never thought he was a burden or a hindrance to the group. Although you ultimately weren’t selected to inherit a titan, Reiner knew you were strong both in strength and will.

Your kindness and fierce loyalty knew no bounds so why was it that Reiner felt like he still couldn’t share this experiences in Paradis Island with you? Why couldn’t he open up about the guilt that ate him alive? About the people he had come to genuinely care for despite them being nothing more than ants who nipped and ate away at his subconscious whenever he closed his eyes for sleep?

Reiner knew the answer: he didn’t want you to judge him for allowing his personal feelings to interfere with his mission.

By the time they arrived back at his family’s home, you turned and cocked a hip to the side. “You need to get checked out at the hospital, Reiner. Come on.”  

“Wait.” The two of you were alone now and you turned, your eyebrow lifted while you waited for Reiner to speak. The truth bubbled in the back of his throat, but Reiner swallowed it down, flashing you a tight-lipped smile instead. “Never mind,” he dismissed and snaked his arm around your waist, drawing you closer to his side so he could kiss your temple, “it’s nothing.”

You knew Reiner like the back of your hand. It was more than just a little obvious that he was hiding something from you but, whatever it was, it was bothering him deeply. Eventually, you knew you could pry it out when the timing was right. He had just gotten home; the only thing you wanted to do was to spend time with him and reassure him that his loved ones were there for him.

Reiner’s time was running out—you knew that and everyone else knew that. Those thoughts were a constant in the back of your mind, yet you pushed them aside and sighed, gently poking Reiner’s side.

“Whatever you say, big guy. Come on! The quicker you get checked out, the quicker we can go and eat your mom’s cooking.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, reaching out to ruffle your hair. “Eating field rations is gross. Let’s go.”

Holding open the door for him, you brightened and affectionately spoke, “I love you, Reiner. Ugh, I’m going to put in a personal complaint because I want at least a few good months with you before you have to go out again.”

Because he loved you—because he cared about you—Reiner knew that he couldn’t reveal the truth that the people on Paradis Island were good people. He didn’t want to upset you nor the happy balance of your relationship so he kept it to himself.

Anything to make you happy; that was the motto he kept to himself as he continued on with the motions of the afternoon and well into the evening.

So gradual in winter
was the going of the age

it seemed the long days
setting out

when stars faded
over the mountains
were not leaving us

even as birds
wake in full song

while dew glitters
in the webs
you appear
a clear morning

opening into the sky
something of our own

to have and keep
the brightness
we could not touch

the air we could not hold
had come to be there all the time

for us and would never be gone

the axle we did not hear
was turning
when the ancient car spoke

in the roofer’s barn
rolled out echoing

first into the lane
the tractor
in the village rumbling

went into its rusty mutterings
before heading out of its lean-to

into the shadow
of time

swallows flashing
the sparks of your voice
fast in the spokes

of the hollow

 wheels turning taking us

as one with the tires
of the baker’s van

           where the wheels of bread
were stacked like days
in calendars

coming and going
all at once we did hear

 the rim of the hour
in what you were saying

 touching all day
it was there
and would stay

as the afternoon lengthened
on its dial

the shadows reached out
farther and farther

from everything
we began to listen for what

might be escaping us

I heard high voices ringing

the village at sundown
calling after dark
the silence on its road

—  The Speed of Light
WS Merwin
Can't Let Her Go (Dean x Reader) Part 2

Pairing: Dean x Reader
Warnings: none
Word Count: 562

     During the long bus ride to Lebanon, Kansas, you rummaged through your pockets, bringing up a crumpled twenty dollar bill and a switchblade. Sighing in defeat, you rested your head against the dirty bus window. You weren’t necessarily surprised that you were alive again; Sam and Dean had both died and come back to life multiple times before. But there was one question nagging you: who- what brought you back?

    It wasn’t like anybody would bring you back just for kicks; everybody had an ulterior motive. When Castiel brought Dean back from hell, it was because heaven needed to kickstart the apocalypse. Michael didn’t bring Sam back to life out of the kindness of his heart, either, he brought Sam back because he wanted to work out his “issues” with his brother via world-ending brawl.

    So, all things considered, you realized one thing: you were totally screwed.

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Never Too Early To Cuddle (Lee Joongi)

Type: Fluff

Request: Hey can you please make a scenario where me and Joongi are home after a loooong day and cuddling up on bed while playing with eachother? 😁

Could you do a scenarios of Lee Joon Gi getting caught by pap with his girlfriend, please Thanks

You felt Joongi’s hand on your back as he quickly guided you out of the eyes of the paps as fast as he could. Its not like they didn’t know about your relationship with the actor its more or less they chased you around to catch more intimate moments. He helped you into the car before he got in and sighed. “Ah babe one day we will be able to do this” he promised as you chuckled. He have you a smile “let’s just order take out” you tell him “best idea today” he jokes as you two went home.


You sat next Joongi watching tv, drinking, and eating. His eyes were glued to the TV while yours were looking over at him while he ate. He stop mid chew and turned his head towards you “why are you looking at me like that?” he asked cover his mouth. “You just look so handsome” you coo as he smiles before shaking his head and continuing his chew. “You’re so dorky” he says as he swallows and you flash him an oversized smile before you started eating again. He would occasionally send you glances when he was done eating while he would sip from his drink.

“Do you think its too early to go hang out in bed?” he asks casually. You turned on your phone as you saw if was only around 7 before looking at him. “Already?” you asked as he nodded. “It’s been a long day babe. We were like spies sneaking around earlier” he told you as you smiled at his dorky remark.


He smiled as he tugged you close to him before he kissed the back of your head. His fingers tickled down your body until they were laying flat against your hips as he pulled your shirt up enough to rest his hand against your skin. Your eyes were glued on the tv this time as you laid in bed. “Your hand is so warm” you tell him as he smiles “Hm” he hummed as his fingers press lightly onto your side making your jump lightly “don’t do that” you whine as he chuckles pressing down again. He let out a light cry as you elbowed him out of reflex “stop it” you say as he whines. “I wanted to be cute with you” he whines as you turn to face him. 

He gave a small smile before you poked his stomach, in seconds it seemed the room filled with laughter as you two began to tickle each other before Joongi wrapped his arms around you stopping you both from tickling each other. You let out a heavy breath not realizing it was so much work to tickle each other. “That was nice” he told you as you felt his lips press against your cheek as he held you close to him. “Much better than that restaurant we were supposed to go to” you tell him as he nods. “I love this. I want to stay like this” he mumbles closing his eyes listening to the tv in the background. 

For that other anon.

Voltron season 2 spoilers ahead.

“Who are you?” Keith demanded, voice broken up by pants from fighting off the bacteria. Hunk was off to the side, glancing around the intestines of the beast- Keith couldn’t for the life of him remember what the damn thing was called. “You helped us, we deserve to know.”

The Galra leveled him with a gaze, body stiffening. Hunk peered over at the duo, eyebrows raising in a question at Keith, but Keith gave him a wave. He was fine for now. They did have a mission, but Hunk knew what he was doing far better than Keith did. “Come on. Clearly you’re not working for either side. You’re…what, a freelancer?”

The Galra shrugged, hand curling around their weapon tentatively. Keith sighed. “Fine. Don’t tell me then. I just wanted to thank you properly.”

He twisted towards Hunk, ready to ask if he needed help, when a hand latched around his wrist. He flinched and Hunk straightened, fingers flexing over his bayard protectively. The Galra looked up over Keith’s shoulder at him, and the red paladin swallowed. “I’m fine, Hunk.”

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Rebelcaptain fic: take me out tonight (7)

Chapter 1 
Chapter 2 
Chapter 3 
Chapter 4 
Chapter 5 
Chapter 6 

Read on AO3 

Thanks yall for reading this fic and being patient after all this time. I love you guys. Also huuuuge thank you to @rogue-stars for letting me rant to ya and being overall amazingly supportive of this fic! xox 
(Also #sorry everyone) 

Chapter 7: let’s go out tonight 

The time to fight is now, she’d said.

Rebellions are built on hope, she’d said.

“What is the point in a rebellion,” Jyn fumed, storming through the base’s corridors. “when it refuses to rebel when it actually needs to?”

Bodhi, who was taking the brunt of her bitterness, continued to stay silent.

The Alliance High Council was deciding that inaction was the better course here than fighting. Of course it was! She should have known from the moment she had found out that their plan all along was to have her father terminated. They had never intended on hearing him out, and they certainly weren’t going to believe her now without some kind of proof, so naturally that left fleeing with its goddamn tail between its legs.

But there was a hunger in her. The entire flight back from Eadu, the need to see this through to the end had only grown until now, it was almost a necessity. She wasn’t going to die like Saw or her father, alone and regretful. She was going to fight hard, and fight dirty. She would prove the rebellion wrong, she would storm Scarif by herself if she had to! 

“We’re going to do it,” she’d murmured to Cassian, his arm slung around her shoulders as they’d tried to rest on their way back. “We’re going to get those plans, you’ll see.”

He’d pressed his lips to her hair, but hadn’t answered.  

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