thanks so much for the heads up on the wrong part

Unpopular Voltron opinion, with meta to back it up.

I don’t think the big Keith and Lance scene in episode 6 was meant to be seen as having gone well, or for things to be getting back on track in regards to Lance’s doubts. I’m actually pretty sure the conversation unintentionally made things with Lance even worse.

Just because Keith and Lance shared a scene alone together, without any fighting or outward disagreements, does NOT mean it went well. I know everyone who is a Klance shipper wants that to be the case, but the whole “5 feet apart” jokes and logic with their ship shouldn’t suddenly change the emotional tone that is ACTUALLY present here.

Do not get me wrong, it is clear that both of them wanted this talk to go well without any confrontation, and to talk with a level head and with honesty. They have both grown as people to realize this. It doesn’t mean there wasn’t a major miscommunication here. 

Lets go through this moment by moment, shall we?

Keep reading

Skyline

Warnings: None

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Thank you to all those who followed me and read my first fic!  I’m thinking of doing a part two to this one, so if you like it, let me know!

Your fire escape had always been your favourite part of your apartment.  Situated outside your bedroom window, you had spent countless hours of your life lounging on the metal steps, reading a book or catching up on some homework.  Last summer, you had wound a string of fairy lights around the rails, which were coated in shiny dark paint.  Your landlady had protested at first but, after you proved that they weren’t endangering the use of the fire escape in any way, she had let you keep them.  The small victory had brought a smile to your face, and now your escape was even cozier than before, and was still just as cozy a year later.  This year’s summer brought scorching heat and clear nights, and you spent most of your free time out on your escape, trying to catch a breeze.

You sat on your fire escape now, wearing a lightweight hoodie and pajama shorts, doodling in a journal.  School was out for the week and tomorrow didn’t require a six am wake up call, leaving you free to stay up late and admire the Queens skyline at night.  It was nights like these that you loved the most; nights that seemed like they were pulled straight from a movie scene, with stars that glimmered like flames, a full moon bigger than you had ever seen before, and the sounds of the city mixing in with the quiet melodies that drifted out of the speakers propped up on your window sill.  You would be content for the rest of your life if you could keep moments like these forever.

Keep reading

married part 5- h.s imagine

you can read part 4 here

You let out a scream as you ran around in the kitchen. Lucas turned the corner, laughing as he chased you. You panicked as you realized you hit a dead end. Lucas smirked as he inched closer to you. “Where you gonna go now, babe?”

You crossed your arm and gave a pout. “Not fair. You always win.” Lucas gave a chuckle as he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer against him. “I won a long time ago.”

Your cheeks blushed as you tilted your head up to connect your lips together with Lucas.

After your birthday last year, you vowed to get over Harry. You couldn’t pine after him anymore. It wasn’t fair to you or his marriage. Moving on from Harry was definitely a struggle and occasionally your mind would drift off to see how he was doing. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t miss him because you did. Harry’s made no effort to contact you. You couldn’t blame him though. You knew that if he found out your feelings for him, your friendship would somehow fall apart and sure enough, it did.

You’ve been with Lucas for about three months now. You guys rekindled when you accidentally ran into him at the store. You apologized for never getting back in touch with him after your first date and the rest is history. Lucas was sweet. He was really sweet. Sometimes when you were with him, you didn’t think about Harry.

You pulled away from Lucas as your phone started to ring. Lucas let out a groan as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “Ignore it.”

You chuckled as you pulled out your phone from your back pocket. You immediately knew who was calling without even having to look at the caller ID. “Niall’s being a little groomzilla. If I ignore him, I’m pretty sure he’ll find a way to hunt me down.”

Lucas rolled his eyes playfully before he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “It’s so hard when everyone wants to take my girl away from me” he joked before leaving you alone to answer the call.

You shook your head as you let out a chuckle before you answered your phone. “What’s wrong now, Niall?”

“The seating arrangement is all wrong!” Niall yelled from the other side, frustration laced in his voice.

You pulled your phone back from your ear, wincing at Niall’s booming voice. “Listen Horan, you better watch your tone with me or I won’t help with the wedding anymore!”

Niall gulped. “I’m sorry. Can you please help with the seating arrangement?” Niall begged into the phone. You smirked as you mentally praised yourself for having Niall wrapped around your finger. “I’ll be over soon.”


Since you and Harry cut ties, you and Niall have become closer. He was your blessing in disguise. You could never thank Niall enough for being there for you when you just really needed a shoulder to cry on. Niall managed to find a girl that was head over heels for him. He was absolutely in love with her. You would like to say you thought Niall marrying someone he’s only known for less than a year was absolutely crazy but you couldn’t. Emma was perfect for Niall. When you first met her, she welcomed you with open arms and you could see how much love Niall had for her. You knew in your heart that they were perfect for each other.

Niall sighed out of relief when he opened the door. His hair was a mess from the amount of times he’s run his hands through it out of frustration. “Niall, I see you’re looking as beautiful as ever.” you chuckled as you stepped into his apartment. You gave a quick hug to Emma who was sitting in the kitchen.

Niall quickly brought out a giant piece of paper. It was like some sort of blue print. It had circles drawn on it to represent the tables, a square to represent the dance floor, a rectangle to represent where the DJ was gonna be. It was the nightmare of every wedding. Niall sighed as he placed the paper in front of you. “We need your help deciding where to put who.” Niall explained.

Emma shrugged her shoulders as she took a sip of wine. “I say we let everyone sit where they’d like to. Who cares about assigned seating?” Niall placed his hand on his forehead before he smiled sweetly. “I told you, honey. If everyone decided to sit where they wanted to then it’ll be a big mess. Each table seats 10 people. What if someone wants to sit at a table that already has 10 people sitting there? They can’t just pull up a chair as they please cause that’ll mean one table will only have 9 guests. We are having assigned seats!”

You and Emma both looked at each other with wide eyes from Niall’s outburst. His breathing was hard as he stared at a sheet with everyone’s name on it. You cleared your throat, “I may need a glass of wine myself for this.”

You looked at who was next on the guest sheet. “Oh! Louis. So we can put him and Eleanor with Liam and Cheryl at table 7.” You quickly wrote Louis’s and Eleanor’s name down on the blue print. Niall nodded as he took a swig of his beer. “Make sure you write Freddie’s and Bear’s name down as well.” You nodded as you began to write. “Who’s next on the list?”

Emma grabbed the guest sheet. “Harry-” Emma paused, her eyes widening a bit as she cleared her throat. “Styles…” Niall and Emma stared at you with weary eyes. Emma’s met Harry a couple of times and she loved him. She thought he was the absolute gentleman and she couldn’t believe what happened between you and him. She never knew Harry was capable of such heartbreak.

Your eyes remained focused on the blue print. You tried to remain unfazed, “Ok. Let’s put him and Kimberly at table 7 as well.” You began to write Harry’s name down before Niall cleared his throat. “Actually Y/N. Kimberly isn’t attending the wedding.”

You sighed as you placed your pencil down. You smiled softly at Emma and Niall sitting in front of you. “It’s sweet of you guys to not invite her but I’ll be fine. Besides, I think Harry would be pretty upset knowing he couldn’t bring his own wife.”

Emma looked at her fiancé. Her eyes telling him to tell you the news they recently got. Niall nodded, he turned back to you. “Harry and Kimberly filed for a divorce last month, Y/N.” You let out a small gasp before Emma explained, “He told us two weeks ago when we met for dinner.”

Your eyes were staring at Harry’s name written down on the blue print in front of him. Your eyes softened as you thought about Harry was feeling all about this. For as long as you knew Harry, you knew how he looked down at getting a divorce. Coming from divorced parents himself, he always saw divorce as giving up. You quickly shook your head, grabbing your pencil again. “That’s unfortunate to hear. Who’s next on the list?”

Emma came around the kitchen counter and placed her hand on your arm softly. “Do you want to talk about it?” Niall nodded his head, reaching across the counter to place his hand on top of yours. “We’re here for you, Y/N.”

You smiled softly as you looked between the couple. “I’m fine, you guys. I promise.” You looked down. “It’s unfortunate Harry has to go through this. And I wish him nothing but the best.” You looked up at the couple. “Now who’s next?”

Emma and Niall exchanged a worried look before Niall sighed as he looked at the list. “Rory…Rory’s next.”


You sighed as you stared at your reflection in front of you. You ran your hands over your dress and smiled as you remembered the last time you wore this dress.

You thanked Harry as he handed you a glass of punch. Harry sat down on the chair next to you as he took in the scene around him. You and Harry went back to Holmes Chapel to celebrate Anne’s birthday. The backyard was filled with family and friends. The sun was about to set, fairy lights hung and music playing in the background. You laughed as you saw the younger kids dancing on the dance floor in the middle of the yard. Harry grabbed your hand and placed a gentle kiss on top of it. “I’m really happy you’re here, Y/N.”

You could feel your cheeks burning slightly as your eyes softened. “Of course, H. I would never miss Anne’s birthday. I adore her.”

Harry’s mouth opened to say something before one of your favorite songs bounced off the speakers. Harry instantly noticed the way your eyes sparkled and your smile widened as the “Photograph” started to play. Harry stood up and held his hand out to you. “May I have this dance?”

You giggled as you stood up, grabbing Harry’s hand. He led the two of you to the middle of the dance floor. You placed your arms around his neck as he placed his around your waist. Harry’s eyes were staring at you intently. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Harry whispered. You smiled as you looked down at your feet. “Shut up you goof.”

Harry smiled, placing his hand on your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. “You’re gorgeous, Y/N.”

You were interrupted by your thoughts as Lucas knocked on your door. “Are you ready, babe?” You grabbed your purse before you looked at your reflection once again. “Ready.” you whispered.

As the car was taking you and Lucas to where Niall’s and Emma’s rehearsal dinner was being held, your foot was tapping anxiously. You could feel your palms becoming sweaty as you inched closer and closer to the restaurant. Lucas placed his hand on your thigh. “Are you alright?”

You smiled nervously while shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

You weren’t. In a couple of minutes, you were going to be in the same room as Harry. You were going to finally see him after a year of cutting ties with each other. Would he say something to you? Should you say something to him? Was he going to bring up what happened that night? Is he going to talk about Kimberly?

As the car halted outside of the restaurant, you could feel yourself becoming nauseous. The restaurant looked great. It was closed for the event. You smiled at the small decorations scattered around the room. There were pictures of Niall and Emma throughout their relationship. Lucas gently kissed your cheek, “Good call on the photos.”

You let out a small shrug as you smiled. A slightly tipsy Niall and a sober Emma walked up to you and Lucas.

“Y/N!” the couple to be shouted, pulling you into a hug. You laughed as you hugged both of them. Emma leaned back. “Oh Y/N. We can’t thank you enough for helping with everything. I can sleep well tonight knowing everything is taken care of because of you.”

Niall nodded his head rapidly. “You were pretty much our wedding planner. Please. Let us pay you a little something for all the handwork you did.” He began to grab his wallet out of his pocket. You swatted at Niall’s arm, giving them a scowl.

“No! I could never take your money!” Niall was about to argue before you continued. “Niall, you’ve helped me so much for the past year. I can’t thank you enough. So think of this as me repaying you.” Niall’s eyes softened. He pulled you into another hug. “I told you everything would get better eventually” he whispered as he recalled the words he would say to you repeatedly during your falling out with Harry. You smiled as you squeezed Niall tighter in the hug. You pulled away and gave another hug to Emma.

The couple promised to meet with you and Lucas again before they went around to mingle with all of their friends and family. Lucas placed his hand on your waist. “I’m going to get us something to drink.” He said before he placed a kiss on your cheek and walking away.

As soon as Lucas walked away, you suddenly felt cold. You could feel eyes burning at the back of your head. You turned around slowly to see Harry standing across the room. He was staring at you with sadness in his eyes. You let out a shiver as it was the same look he gave you that night. You shook your head as you turned back around. You quickly walked away, wanting to get as far as you possibly could. You stepped out onto the restaurant patio. You let out a deep breath as you ran your hand through your hair.

“Y/N…”

You spun around to see Harry standing in front of you. You closed your eyes briefly, “Harry.”

Harry’s eyes softened as he took you in. “It’s so nice to see you again. You look beautiful.” You shook your head. You quickly murmured, “I can’t do this” before you pushed past Harry to go back inside.

“Are you happy?”

You halted as you turned back around. “What?”

Harry walked closer. “With him? Are you happy?” You looked at the ground before Harry continued, “Cause I’m a bloody mess without you.”

Your eyes filled with anger as you stepped closer to Harry. You poked him in the chest. “No! You can’t say things like that! You’re married!” Harry grabbed your hand, “I filed for a divorce!” Harry sighed as he glanced down before his eyes met yours. “What happened that night absolutely wrecked me, Y/N. For the rest of my life, I will always regret that night. I missed your fucking birthday, Y/N. I’ve never felt so disgusted with myself. I tried moving on. I tried being the best husband I could possibly could to Kimberly but I couldn’t. You! You were on my mind constantly! I couldn’t do a single thing without thinking about you! All I could see was you crying. All I could see was how much I hurt you. I will never be able to forgive myself. But Y/N. I fucking love you.”

By the end of Harry’s speech, the two of you had tears in your eyes. Harry wiped your eyes before he whispered, “I love you, Y/N.”

Harry’s eyes glanced between your eyes and lips. Suddenly he placed his lips on yours.


thank you guys so much for 2k followers! i created this blog because people like @harry-writings and @permanentcross & so much other amazing writers INSPIRED me to write things of my own! whenever i read something they wrote, i would remain in awe. i would constantly refresh their pages to see if they updated. knowing that people are doing the same to my own writing and even asking me for advice for their own blog makes me so…happy. and just so grateful. i love each and every one of you. THANK YOU ALL. 

you can find all my writing here

you can find part 6 here

7:32 PM - Peter Parker

request -  queen. I love your writing. If you’re willing to do another peter Parker smut bc im full of sin and ur last one was so damn good, can u do one where u guys are friends and peter asks if he can eat u out “for practice” or something and he’s rly awkward about it ? if u don’t wanna do that or if u wanna change it in anyway that’s totally cool. thanks for sharing your word with the world, it’s amazing!!!

a/n - had to get around to writing my second smut fic on this blog and i hope it isn’t a flop like me!!! this is NOT a continuation of 11:57 PM, i just thought it was cool to name the smut fics a time bc i think it makes it mysterious?? idk im dumb LMAO but don’t forget to request a fic if you’d like and follow!

7:32 PM. The time where I was supposed to be studying for my upcoming exam in Chemistry, but instead I’m over at Peter’s apartment doing the complete opposite. From being teenagers, it automatically causes us to always want to touch the other, and that’s the case just about now.

Our textbooks laid on his desk as we were sitting on his bed, myself straddling his lap as he held me close to his body. Our lips were happily engaged, coming together countless times as some music played lowly in the background. May had just left to grab dinner, explaining why Peter took such advantage of the situation.

Peter’s lips left mine as they came for my neck, kissing my sweet spot tenderly. He had only waiter a couple of seconds before gliding his tongue over it, making my spine shiver rather than his. One thing that I noticed lately is that Peter is taking more control, even though his nervousness was still as clear as day.

“Peter..” I rasped, holding the back of his head. “Don’t stop.”

Keep reading

smile ✦ peter parker

summary : as the adopted daughter of none other than tony stark, you have a myriad of responsibilities. babysitting peter parker probably wasn’t supposed to be one of them. not that you’re complaining.

word count : 4.7k (also known as the longest thing I’ve ever written)

author’s note : ur adopted b/c not everyone is white and i don’t want anyone to feel excluded from reading this due to the fact tony is white (and yes ik there are interracial couples i just want everyone to feel included i want to make sure whoever wants to read this can without feeling weird about it b/c i know it is something that bothers people in the fanfic community okay bye enjoy my loves.)

   Tony Stark was a lot of things to a lot of people. He was the billionaire, he was the genius, the philanthropist, and the notorious playboy in his younger years. Most notably, however, was that he was Iron Man. He was marveled at by the entire world, him and the group of heroes that stood beside him; the Avengers, as they called themselves. To you, however, he was your father. 

   A terribly overprotective one, at that. 

  Of course, this was only to be expected of a father, even a foster one, but the lengths the man went to in order to keep his only daughter out of whatever he deemed trouble were rather extensive. You rarely ever left the Avengers tower, and if you did you were accompanied by a team of people you could only describe as rip off Secret Service men. Sometimes, Natasha would replace them, or Steve, but that was a rare occurrence. You were homeschooled by the best tutors his money could pay for- this particular move was less about refining your education and more about keeping you away from any boy in the five boroughs. 

   You chose to spend majority of your time reading in your room and training, always wary of anyone who approached you about being a friend. Your surname meant everything to people, especially the girls that wandered around Manhattan desperate to become the bestie of the daughter of the richest man in New York. You loved your dad with all your heart, but the stigma that ran with the Stark name would never stop irritating you. 

   That, and the impromptu plans he threw at you on a regular basis. 

   “Miss Stark, your father is requesting access to your room. He knows you hate it when he barges in.” Vision drifted into your room without warning, making you jump. You yanked your earbuds out of your ears, giving him a look. 

   “I hate when anyone barges in, Vision. That includes you, too.” You pushed your chair away from your desk, placing your pen on the desk and shutting your notebook. “Tell him he can come in if he lets me become an Avenger.” You raised your voice at this, knowing he would hear you. 

   “He says that he’ll consider it if you let him in.” 

   You raised your eyebrows. “Touché.” You motioned for the door to open, and your father walked into the room, immediately taking his pristinely polished shoes off and lying down on your bed. You stared at him.“Dad, it’s not cool to wear sunglasses inside. You look lame.” 

   Tony Stark rolled his eyes at you. “It’s called a look, sweetheart.” You laughed, pretending to nod in agreement. He placed his hands behind his head as you spun your chair back around to your desk. “What are you working on?” 

   “Something for Bruce,” you muttered, pen cap between your teeth as you continued to jot down important points from his numerous lab reports. You were going to have to hand in a full analysis of his findings for your end of term science paper, and he was more than willing to aid you. “Science report.” 

   “My daughter, beautiful and intelligent, my flesh and blood,” Tony declared proudly. 

   “Dad, I love you to the death, but I’m still not your biological kid,” you smiled all the same, though, and he knew behind the tough exterior you were happy to hear his expressions of admiration. 

    “Who needs a biological kid when I’ve got this great, wonderful adopted one right in front of me.” 

   Not looking up from your notebook, you said, “You’re really laying it on thick today. I’m all of those things, obviously, but I know you want something. So, what is it?” You paused, then said, “Thank you, by the way.” 

   “You sure we’re not related?” He sat back up, clasping his hands together. “What do you say about Germany?” 

   “Nice enough place I guess, interesting history, why?” 

   “I kind of need you to go there for two weeks with me.” 

   With a groan, you dropped your pen and held your face in your hands. “Another surprise trip? Dad, I have school. I have homework! Do you see this?” You held up the thick stack of reports from Banner’s lab, waving them around. “This is gonna be, like, my life’s work.” 

   Tony shook his head. “Kids these days and their homework. Seriously. When I was at school I would have taken any opportunity to shirk my responsibilities.” 

  “You did do that.”

    He waved his hand. “Technicalities. Anyway, as you know the Avengers have been disassembled. Sokovia Accords and all that bullshit. I assume you’ve been keeping up?” 

   “Hard not to.” It was true. Anything in the news was about the great split of the infamous team, Captain America vs Iron Man. It was impossible to turn on the television without hearing about it. And, considering you lived underneath the same roof as half of them, it was quite literally not an option to be ignorant to what was going on. 

   “Good,” he grinned proudly again. If there was one emotion that the man felt whenever he was around, it was proud. Nearly everything you did made him beam with pride, and if you had been placed into an actual high school, there was no doubt in his mind that the person at the top of every single class would be you. You excelled no matter the circumstances. “So, to sum up, there’s gonna be a big showdown in Germany. Western style, naturally. Guns blazing and everything.” 

   Your eyes lit up and you nearly flew out of your chair, rushing over to him. “Oh my god, are you finally gonna let me fight? You’ve seen my training, right? I’m getting so good. I’m like, practically Natasha level good. She’s been showing me that move where I can snap people’s necks with my thighs and-” 

   “First of all, your thighs are not going around anyone’s neck, so jot that down,” he interrupted. Your enthusiasm visibly deflated. “I need you to kind of watch over this kid who’s coming with us. He’s from Queens. You love Queens.” 

   “You’re making me babysit?” You flopped down on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. “C’mon, dad, I’m sixteen. That’s practically an adult. I think I should be allowed to fight this time. I’m Avenger worthy.” 

   “Practically an adult is not the same as literally an adult, as in over eighteen.” You groaned again. “Don’t call it babysitting, anyway. He’s your age. Well, he’s a few months younger, but that doesn’t matter. Just call it… hanging out with a good kid that’s fighting for your dear old dad and making sure he doesn’t get into trouble in Germany or annoy Happy too much.” He patted your knee, standing up. “We leave in the morning, kiddo, so pack up.” 

   “How come he gets to fight if he’s younger than I am?” 

   “’Cause he’s not my daughter. Goodnight, light of my life.” He kissed your forehead before leaving, giving you another encouraging smile.

   “Goodnight, pain my ass,” you grumbled as he left. He popped back in, a stern expression on his face. “If I watch your new protégée can I become an Avenger?” Tony rubbed a hand over his eyes. Teenage girls were exhausting. 

   “We’ll talk about it.”


   You’re sitting at your breakfast table with suitcases piled next to you when Peter Parker strolls into your life with happiness in his every footstep because he is just so, so glad to be there. You’re spooning cereal into your mouth when he sits down directly across from you, a video camera cupped in his soft looking hands and the little red button clicked on, meaning that he is recording you. You place your spoon back into the bowl of milk that is dusted with cinnamon sugar from the Cinnamon Toast Crunch you’ve been eating for the past ten minutes. 

   “Do you mind?” 

   “Mind what?” He asked, peeking up from behind his camera. You gestured toward it, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. 

   “The camera. I’m kind of still in the middle of eating breakfast in my pajamas,” you leaned forward, switching it off. “You must be the Spider-Boy.” The chestnut haired boy feels a blush creeping up his neck and settling along his cheekbones when you say that. 

   “Oh, did Mr. Stark tell you that?” He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly. “Um, it’s Spider-Man, actually.” He mumbled the man part, knowing fully well that he didn’t look like much of a man in the eyes of anyone, his eyes casting down as he fidgeted with the strap on his camera. 

   “Oh good,” you nodded. You took another spoonful of cereal. “I like that better. Nicer ring to it.” You grabbed your box of sugary breakfast and pushed it toward him, an offering. 

   “Huh?” He was a bit dazed. He stared at the box in front of him and then realized he had been doing that for far too long of a time to be considered normal. “Oh, right, um, sure, thanks!” He opened the box and took a handful, shoving it in his mouth. You kept eating your cereal, silently staring at the bowl and willing yourself not to laugh at the boy in front of you. With all his nerves, he was still a bundle of energy and cheerfulness, and, well, let’s face it, he was sort of adorable. “So, you think my name’s cool?” He tried to sound suave, charming, as he said it, tried to smirk at you, but he stopped when he realized that he looked stupid.

   You gave him a half smile. “It’s pretty good.” His face positively lit up with happiness to be taken seriously, and you knew the feeling too well. You stuck out your hand. “Oh, forgot to introduce myself-” 

  “Y/N Stark, adopted daughter of Mr. Stark, probably the smartest girl in all of New York and, uh, correct if I’m wrong but… Black Widow’s best student as well as Bruce Banner’s apprentice.” 

   You gaped at him. The blush he had been sporting crept up to his ears and made his nose turn the shade of a strawberry. “Well, uh, yeah,” you said, flustered. “Should I creeped out or flattered?” 

   “Flattered, please.” The genuine worry in his eyes as he leaned forward made you laugh. He had an endearing personality. 

   “Flattered it is.” You watched the slow sigh of relief leave his mouth, his hands flying up the mess of hair atop his head and fixing it distractedly. Your dad walked into the room, and Peter practically fell out of his chair trying to stand up and seem presentable. Your slouch was indicative that you didn’t care much. He was just your dad. “Morning, pops,” you slid the box over his way.  

   He frowned at it.” Y/N, that stuff is crap. I don’t know why you eat it.” 

   “Wanda and I like it,” you said defensively, a slip of the tongue. You knew your dad was going to get annoyed at the mention of the Scarlet Witch, who had evaded and ignored his attempts at keeping her powers under control. “It’s good. High quality. Right, Peter?” You whipped your head toward him. 

   He felt his heart give a little tug. He grabbed the box out of your hand and shoved more cereal in his mouth, the cinnamon sugar sticking to his lips. “Yeah, Mr. Stark. Best stuff ever,” he said through a mouthful of it. Tony gave them an amused glance, picking up your two heaviest suitcases and beckoning you both to the landing strip. Peter swallowed his food. 

   He didn’t even like Cinnamon Toast Crunch that much. He was just thrilled that you knew his real name.


   Everything about this kid was infuriatingly dorky in the cutest way possible. You came to this conclusion as you boarded the jet with ease, sitting in your usual spot by the window and greeting Happy with your typical friendly smile and idle chitchat. Peter stumbled onto it with awe written across his features as he stared around the place, touching nearly everything much to Happy’s dismay. 

   “Haven’t you been on a plane before?” The man asked, growing irritated with the way the kid was filming everything. You saw Peter zoom in on Happy’s face and grinned out your window. 

   “Nope, never!” Peter exclaimed, his video camera still in front of him as he captured every detail of his trip. 

   “Well, sit down so we can take off,” Happy said gruffly, grabbing Peter’s shoulders and forcefully placing him into a seat. 

  Peter sat still for a moment, then hopped over to the seat next to you. He placed his camera in front of him on the tray table. “Y/N, smile for the camera. I’m recording.” You looked at him, then turned to the camera and gave it a deadpan stare. You even threw in a slow blink. “Good enough,” he shrugged. He kept it recording as he shifted in his seat so that his entire body was facing you, his chin resting in his hand and his elbow on your armrest. His gaze was sort of nice. “So, Miss Stark, I have a few questions.” 

   “Um, okay, shoot,” you closed your book that you had open on your lap. “I’m not that interesting, just so you know.” 

  “I think you’re interesting,” he assured you. You heard Happy let out a choked laugh at Peter’s flirting attempt, but it was just another thing you found sort of lovely. It was a genuine compliment. “What’s your favorite subject in school?”

   You’d been expecting the typical what’s it like being Tony’s daughter spiel, and you were pleased to get an actual question about yourself for once. “I like everything, I guess. I kind of love school, but I don’t go to a conventional school, so. Training is cool, I like that a lot.” 

   “You train with Black Widow, I have to ask- can you show me some moves? I need to refine my technique before the fight,” he explained.  

    “Do you wanna learn how to crush people with your thighs?”

   “Wow! Do you think I could? Could you teach me? That’s so cool,” he beamed, turning to the camera for a split second with an overexcited look. 

   You pursed your lips, staring out your window for a minute. You were up in the air by now, and there was long flight ahead of you. “Maybe. If my dad is okay with it. I have to check.” Peter looked confused, 

   “Why wouldn’t he be?” 

   “He’s, you know, really overprotective.” You put your first against the cheek, leaning the same way that Peter was. You sighed. “I don’t have a lot of friends. Which is fine, but I can’t even attempt to go make any because I have a whole freaking SWAT team on my ass the minute I step out of the tower because he’s so worried about my safety.” You let your head hit the window, your eyes rolling skyward. “And that makes no sense because-” 

   “You’re really strong and stuff. You can protect yourself,” Peter finished. 

    “I think you know me a little too well, Peter,” you said, poking him lightly in the arm. “But… yeah, exactly. I don’t really get to do anything fun. I don’t have adventures. Sure, reading is fun and studying is fun for me and training is great and I love hanging out with everyone in the tower but I’m still a teenager. No fun for me, though. My life is pretty boring, sorry if that makes your little video diary suck.” You stuck your tongue out at his camera.  

   “No worries,” he said, taking it off the tray table and turning it toward you. “Tell me every boring detail, Miss Stark.” 

   “As long as you stop calling me Miss Stark.” 

   “You’ve got a deal.” 

   It was a seven hour trip, and you both passed out by the three hour mark after Peter had pried every excruciating detail from your life out of you. You hated sleeping on airplanes, but your head was slumped against his shoulder and his arm was knocking against your own and his sweatshirt was as soft as pillow. You remembered the shy glance he had given you just before you knocked out on his shoulder for the remainder of the flight. He had a sweet smile. 


    Peter filmed absolutely everything. He filmed himself getting off the plane and then filmed you getting off the plane and nearly shoved the camera in Happy’s face until he threatened to break it and Peter backed off. He radiated enthusiasm. “Look at this, and this, and this, oh shit wow that’s so cool look at this! Oh man this is good stuff!”

   “Peter this is literally just the airport how am I supposed to take you around the actual city?!”

   “OH WOW Y/N have you seen this!” 

    “Yes, Peter!” 

     He zoomed in on your face, your devoid of emotion look appearing again. “Are you ever gonna smile for the camera?” He gave you a pout, doe eyes and all. You turned away. 

   “No. I’m supposed to be babysitting you, please be behave.” You touched your fingers to the bridge of your nose, dragging Peter to a couch. “Please sit. We’re getting the hotel reservations checked.” 

   “Do they juice boxes? I’m really thirsty.” He was just trying to make you laugh at this point, and annoying you was kind of funny for him. You let out an involuntary chuckle when he pretended to claw at his throat, throwing himself on the ground. 

   “I’ll make sure they have juice boxes for you, Petey. You’re such a seven year old, geez.” You pretended to gag. 

   Looking offended, Peter replied, “I’m actually twelve.” 

   Jokingly, you said, “You’re a twelve year old that’s going to get a punch in the face if you don’t settle down right now.” He stood up, directly in front of you with his light eyes and little grin, another feverish looking heat burning at his face. Nevertheless, he still said, “It’d be an honor to get beaten up by you.” 

  His voice, the sincerity he carried within it despite the ludicrous statement, made you feel those famed butterflies fluttering inside you. Maybe it was the way he looked into your eyes as he said it. Maybe it wasn’t. But something within you was starting to like Peter Parker, and you’d barely known him for twenty four hours. 

   Then again, it was hard to not like Peter. The kid was just so damn likable. 


   He had known it from the moment he first set his eyes upon you that day in the tower that he was a goner. If he had known it then, just from sitting down across from you with nothing to him but his lanky figure and a suit that resembled a onesie more than it did a costume fit for a hero such as he, he was sure of it now, a week and a half later. 

   Every day had been the same routine. He’d be up bright and early in the morning so you could help with him his training, teaching him how to utilize the suit your father had given him with ease rather than his usual tactic of jumping into everything blind. You’d been the one to help come up with nearly all of the web shooter combinations. He didn’t know all of them yet, or close to half of them, but he was progressing wonderfully. 

   After training, you’d give him the tour of your favorite places around Germany, close enough to where you’d both be able to get back to the hotel before dark. He filmed the both of you constantly, but you shied away from the cameras every time without fail. He couldn’t understand why, but he didn’t push. He just liked filming in general, and would accept you not smiling in any of his clips as long as you were still in there. 

   There was a beautiful sense of normalcy that came with hanging around Peter. You reveled in it. No one had ever made you laugh so hard with his ridiculous attempts at jokes or made you smile so much at his shy flirting skills that clearly needed to be revisited. 

   It was okay. You didn’t mind. And the fact that you didn’t tease him for it made him so, so happy. 

   Then, came the day of the fight. Peter had his camera out, he was dressed in his spidey suit, and you were standing there next to him dictating who he should and shouldn’t go after. 

   “Don’t go after Wanda ‘cause she could obliterate you in two seconds and Cap could crush you, too, but he won’t ‘cause he’s really nice like that. Bucky won’t care as much, though, so don’t do that- Ant-Man seems pretty cool and harmless but I don’t have as much intel on him and Peter if you get hurt you have to go hide somewhere-” 

   “I’m not gonna get hurt,” he said confidently. 

   You ignored him. “I’m gonna be in your earpiece, figuratively speaking, so I’ll hear everything you do and if you talk I’ll be able to hear you and you can hear me. So, just… keep me updated.” Peter took off his mask for a second, hair sticking up everywhere from the static. You leaned up, smoothing it back into place. Everything about him was soft. You wanted to curl up in it and stay there for as long as you could. 

   “I’ll be fine, Y/N, don’t worry,” Peter placed his hand on your shoulder. You felt your face heat up. 

   “I- I’m not worried.” You totally were. “I know you’ll be fine.” You didn’t want him getting hurt. “I just want you to be careful.” You didn’t want him to fight. 

   You could’ve sworn his face fell a  bit when you said you weren’t worried, but he squeezed your shoulder anyway. Without a moment’s hesitation, you threw your arms around him, your nose pressing against his neck as you took a deep breath. He stood there for a second without doing anything until he realized that if he didn’t hug you back, he’d be the dumbest person on the face of the Earth. You felt his surprisingly defined arms hug you back. 

   You didn’t look at him when you pulled away. You stared at the spider emblazoned on his chest, gave him a quick good luck, then departed from the room. You sat on your own hotel bed with a rapidly beating heart.

    The nerves were killing you. Ten more minutes. You opened your laptop and pulled up the system that would allow you to communicate across Team Stark. You were more focused on your dad and Peter. You tapped into your dad’s earpiece after placing the headset on. “Dad?” You spoke into the microphone. 

   “Hey, kiddo, everything okay?” 

   “Y-Yeah I just-” you took another breath. “Be safe. I love you.” 

   “I love you too, Y/N. Are you sure everything is okay over there?” 

   “Can you just make sure Peter gets out okay? If he gets hurt, bring him right back, please. That’s it.” Maybe it was a stupid request in someone else’s eyes, but you needed Peter to make it back in one piece. Tony Stark looked over at Peter Parker, crouching in his hiding spot and fumbling around with the gloves of his suit and gave the kid a knowing smile. Of course that was the one his  daughter fell for in the end. Perfectly fitting. 

   “I’ll make sure.” You knew your father couldn’t see the grateful smile on your face, the sigh of relief that fell past your lips when he spoke these words.

   Peter Parker, I swear if you make it out of this, I will smile like an idiot in every single one of your stupidly adorable video diary things. I swear. Just be safe.


 “Your black eye is awful,” you told him, dabbing at it with more cream. “Totally ruins your face.”

   “I think I look manly.” 

   “You think incorrectly.” You stepped back, your fingertips tilting his chin up so you could examine it further. “I think I got the worst of it. You did really well, Peter. Exceptionally well.” His face was glowing from your compliment. 

   “Can I get on that tape?” He asked excitedly, ducking under his hotel bed for his camera. You nodded, and he switched the camera on. He held out his arm so that you were both in frame. And you smiled. He forgot all about what you were supposed to say the moment that beautiful smile appeared there. “I- wow, Y/N.” 

   “What?’ 

    His stare was kind as it usually was. “You just-” he paused. “Your smile is really, really beautiful.” There was no way for you to turn away from the camera this time and you were left grinning like a lovestruck idiot at the boy in front of you, leaning up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. 

  “Thank you.” 

  You slept the entire plane ride the way you had the last time, curled up against Peter. This time, it was intentional. One of your arms was flung across his waist and his was wrapped around your shoulders, the sweatshirt he had came in now swaddling you cozily. There were two separate cars waiting for you. You stood in between them when the flight got off, the sleeves of his sweater hanging off your hands as you reached out to grab his. He felt you push a piece of paper into his hand. “You better call me, Peter Parker. I’ll be really upset if you don’t.” 

   He wrapped you suddenly in an embrace that lifted you off your feet just a little bit, his lips pressing against your temple. “I’ll call you every day.” 


   He kept true to his word. Every day without fail, your phone rang with a call from Peter, and you fell asleep on the phone with him more often than not. If you weren’t on the phone with him, you were texting him, and if you weren’t doing that, you wished that you were. The consistent communication was better than nothing, but regardless, you missed his presence. You missed the way you felt walking next to him as he explained why chocolate ice cream was so clearly better than vanilla. You just missed him. 

   “Peter?” You held the phone to your ear, nestled in your blankets already even though it was barely nine o'clock. His sleepy voice mumbled out a yes? “Would it be stupid if I said that I missed you?” 

  She could practically hear his wide smile through the phone. “Of course not. I miss you, too. So much. Probably more than you miss me.” 

   “That’s so not true!” She scoffed. 

    “Wanna bet?” His tone was mischievous, no longer the hoarse, pretty voice of a boy just waking up from his nap. “Open your bedroom door.” 

    “Are you joking?” 

    You hung up the phone, throwing back your covers and not caring one bit that your hair was a dripping mess from your shower or that you were wearing  a terrible set of hello kitty pajamas that weren’t meant for anyone over the age of ten based on the size of the top. You nearly tackled him to the ground when you saw him standing in your doorway, a happy squeal escaping your lips. You were surprised he even got in, considering your dad wasn’t home, but you figured Vision had let him in. Vision always had a way of knowing. 

   “Have I ever told you that you have a really pretty smile?” Peter’s lips hovered over yours, almost hesitant. You took the initiative to kiss first, your hands delving into his silk-like hair. There was no point in waiting anymore. Your noses bumped together clumsily when he tilted his head back, admiring. You could feel your whole being light up when he gazed at you the way that he did, in that admiring, careful, Peter way of his. 

   “Careful, Spidey,” You warned, hands on his chest as you stared right back up at him. 

   “Careful of what?” He quirked an eyebrow. 

   “You’re going to make me fall in love with you one of these days if you keep looking at me like that.” It was only the truth, and you were a honest person.

   “That’s sort of the plan,” he shrugged in a seemingly careless way, but he couldn’t hide it. He was an open book. An open book who loved you, and the way that you smiled at him when he pulled back his sleeve to reveal a web shooter, a strange glint in those brown eyes of his as he said, “You up for an adventure?” 

Married with Benefits (Part 7)

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: 939

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

A/N: Thank you for the feedback, so much! Enjoy this part ^^ Part 8 will be out tomorrow :D 

Originally posted by peoplealwaysleave-99


You could feel his breath against your lips. He smelled like minty toothpaste and looked so warm with his tousled hair. You want to really touch it, run your finger through the tresses.

His eyes were half-hooded and you mirrored his expression, your heads tilting simultaneously.

Keep reading

Skyline {VII}

Originally posted by tom-cinnamonroll-holland

Warnings: Language, panic attack

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 3.1k

A/N: Guys!!!! This is the last part of Skyline.  Like, for real this time.  I’m so sad to see it end, but I’m also so happy that it’s had such success, and I can’t thank you guys enough for that.  You are all so so wonderful, and you have all my love.  As usual, I want to give a shout out to Zoe and Jen for reading my drafts and helping me edit and brainstorm, as well as encouraging me to write.  As for all of you, I hope you’ll forgive me for all the angst that I’ve hit you guys with (remember when Skyline was self-indulgent fluff lmao), and I really hope this makes up for it a bit.  In other news, tonight is the Spidereyhes Sleepover!!!!!!!!  All the info on the sleepover can be found here, as well as info about the livestream, which will start at 7pm PST.  I’ll post the link on here!! Zoe, Jen, and I will be discussing all kinds of things, answering questions, and talking about Skyline, so be sure to drop by!!! Also, if you have any questions about Skyline or anything else that you want answered, send it in!!!! It’s not too late yall.  Again, thank you so much, and I hope you’ve enjoyed Skyline as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it.

skyline: a mixtape

{part i} {part ii} {part iii} {part iv} {part v}

Sitting up in your bed, you stared at the window, not sure of how to react to seeing Spider-Man’s masked face through the glass.  Throwing back your covers, you quietly walked over to the window, grabbing a hoodie that Peter had lent you as you passed your desk.  Sliding the glass panel up, you climbed out onto the metal fire escape, slipping on and zipping up Peter’s hoodie to protect you from the cold.

The superhero stood where he had first stood, the night he saved your life and blew up Vizzini’s all those months ago.  And there, to his right, were the flower pots that he had tripped over the first time he came back for you.  Those stairs were where you would sit and draw while he watched your fingers fly across the page, amazed at the pictures you created.  Behind him was the railing that you would lean against as you looked at the Queens skyline together.  This fire escape was your entire relationship condensed, the one location where you were allowed to be with each other.  If you used your imagination, you could almost see every single night playing out in front of your eyes.  Spider-Man, with a bendy straw underneath his mask.  Spider-Man, attempting to draw you in the moonlight.  Spider-Man, his hand on your waist and the other in your hair. Spider-Man.

Keep reading

married part 3- h.s imagine

part 1 

part 2


Niall opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it. You rolled your eyes as you stared at him from across the kitchen counter. Niall furrowed his eyebrows as he placed his hand on his chin. He shook his head and leaned against the counter. “Alright. Tell me again exactly what she said.”

You let out a sigh as you leaned your hands against the counter. “She basically told me to fuck off, Niall.” Niall shook his head and sat down on one of the bar stools. “I just can’t believe Kimberly would say something like that to you.” You sighed as you sat on the seat next to his. You leaned your head against your arm. “I can’t believe it either.”

“So did you tell Harry?” Niall asked. You shook your head, “No. And I’m not planning on telling him either. I can’t tell him that he married-”

“The wicked bitch of London?” Niall interrupted, lips quirking up in a smile. You let out a chuckle as you gently punched him in the arm. “I’m serious, Niall. It’ll break his heart knowing Kimberly’s capable of saying something like that to someone. Promise me you won’t tell him?” Niall shrugged his shoulders as he got up to grab something from the fridge. “I guess, Y/N. But he’ll find out eventually. What’s he gonna think when his best friend suddenly stops talking to him?”

You groaned as you placed your head on the counter. “It’s not like I was going to do anything to hurt the marriage. I respect Harry too much to ever jeopardize it. But now I feel like I did overstep my boundaries, that’s why Kimberly wants me out of the picture.”

Niall turned around from looking in the fridge, a bottle of water in his hands. “You did nothing wrong, Y/N. You’re Harry’s best friend. Just because he’s married, that’s never going to change. Kimberly’s just insecure that her marriage is in the runs.”

You rubbed your face with your hands, clearly exhausted of the situation. “Out of all the people I could’ve fell in love with, why Harry?” You let out a laugh at how ironic your life was. “I just had to be the stereotypical girl who falls in love with her best friend.”

Niall smiled, sitting back down next to you as he placed his arm around you. “Harry’s just a great guy. Every girl is bound to fall in love with him. At least you have the privilege of being his best friend?” Niall tried assuring you, giving your shoulder a squeeze. You leaned your head against Niall’s shoulder and puffed out your cheeks, “I hate my life.”


With yet another promise from Niall that things were going to work out in the end for you, Niall left your apartment. You were sitting on your bed, scrolling through your Facebook feed. You sighed as you saw another post from Harry’s honeymoon. You leaned your head against the bed frame as you clicked on Harry’s name. You started looking through his most recent pictures. A lot of the photos were either from his honeymoon or his wedding. You tried not to wince as you would stumble upon pictures of him and Kimberly kissing. You were basically looking at Harry’s timeline in his photos. There were pictures from when he proposed to Kimberly, pictures of them at a Coldplay concert, pictures of them eating crazy looking food, pictures of them on the bed snuggling. Just pictures of them.

You laughed as you landed on the next picture, your hand covering your mouth.

You smiled at Harry as he placed a small cake in front of you. He sat down in front of you, a smile so wide, you were afraid his dimples would somehow burst. “This is my first time trying out this cake recipe, love, so bare with me if it’s not good.” Harry said as he began lighting candles on the cake.

You shook your head, a smile still on your face. “It looks absolutely amazing, H.” Harry looked over at you and smiled. He looked at the clock on the wall and noticed the time. “And now, it’s officially your birthday.”

Since you and Harry were twelve, he’s always made sure to be the first to tell you Happy Birthday. As your best friend, it was his sole purpose to do so. Every year, Harry would make you a cake, from scratch, and would sing you happy birthday. You guys would eat cake in your pajamas while watching Sixteen Candles and eat even more cake for breakfast in the morning. It was a perfect tradition you’d hope would never end.

Your eyes glanced over to the caption. On this day, my beautiful best friend came into this world. I will always remain thankful for this day. I will always love you.

You bit your bottom lip, rereading the caption what felt like a million times. You couldn’t help but wonder how your birthday will be this year. It was only in a couple of weeks. Would Harry still come over? Should he even come over? With everything Kimberly said, is it right for him to come over? You grabbed one of the pillows placed on your bed and screamed into it. With your head still in the pillow, your laptop began to ring. You looked over to see your mom was trying to FaceTime you. “Just what I needed” you mumbled. You plastered on the most phony smile to exist. “Hey mom.”

Your mom smiled, “Oh, honey! How lovely it is to see you!” You shook your head, letting out a giggle. “I saw you at the wedding, mom.” Your mom shook her head, a look of concern appearing on her face. “How are you doing, sweetie?” Besides Niall, your mom was the only one that knew of your feelings for Harry. How could she not? She was your mother. Your mom would always tell her friends that she knew you and Harry would be married someday. She loved your friendship and she loved how Harry respected you. It’s what every parent dreams for their child. When she got the invitation to his wedding, she was absolutely shattered for her daughter. She immediately called you only to be met with you sobbing on the other side of the line.

You shrugged your shoulders, pushing your hair behind your ears. “I’m fine.” Your mom shook her head. “You’re not. And it’s okay if you aren’t.”

You sighed as you stared at the computer screen. “It’s over, mom. He’s married. I can’t do anything but be supportive for him.” Your mom pursed her lips, nodding her head. “Well, Y/N. The reason why I called was because I want you to go out-”

You groaned, interrupting her. “Mom. Please. The last thing I want to do is go on a date.” Your mom let out a sigh.

“Y/N. Harry’s married.” You shook your head slowly as your eyes shifted away from the screen. Your mother continued, “And from looking at how happy he was at the wedding and listening to his vows…Y/N, he’s going to be married for a long time.” You sniffed, trying not to tear up in front of your mom.

Your mom looked down at her hand, looking at her wedding ring. “Every mother wants that for her child. They want to see them in love. They want to see their wedding. I want that for you, Y/N. As your mother, I can’t stand back and watch you hurting.”

You looked back at the computer screen, a tear falling down. “Let yourself be happy.” Your mom whispered on the other side. Your head shot down in defeat. She was right. A moment of silence passed before you whispered, “Alright.”


Lucas was…nice. He did everything you were supposed to do on a first date. He asked about your family, he asked about your job, he asked about your hobbies. He pulled out your chair for you at dinner, he held open the door for you, he paid for dinner. Lucas was a proper gentleman. You couldn’t help but think you needed someone like Lucas. As harsh as it sounds, Lucas was your distraction from Harry.

“Well this is me.” You said as you nodded towards your apartment building. Lucas nodded as he followed your gaze. “Is it alright if I walk you towards your door?”

You smiled, nodding your head. As you and Lucas were walking towards your door, you let out a laugh as Lucas was telling you about accidentally walking into his brother “handling” his business in his room.

Your laughter halted as you saw Harry standing in front of your door. He was staring between you and Lucas with his arms crossed. “Harry? What are you doing here?” Harry stared at Luke before he turned to look at you. “Can I talk to you?”

Lucas cleared his throat, catching on the tension. “I should probably get going, Y/N. I had a really great time.” You turned to look at Lucas and gave him a small smile, nodding. “I did, too.” You leaned over and gave him a hug. As Lucas returned the hug, you couldn’t help but feel Harry throwing daggers at you. Lucas cleared his throat once more as he nodded towards Harry and walked back towards the elevators.

As soon as you opened your apartment door, Harry was quick to ask, “Who was that?” You ignored his question, taking your heels off. “What did you need to talk about, Harry?”

Harry cleared his throat, crossing his arms once again. “Were you on a date?” You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. “Yes. Ok, yes, Harry. I was on a date.”

Harry let out a scoff. “That explains why you wouldn’t answer my texts.” You rolled your eyes as you began pouring yourself a glass of wine. “Well I’m sorry my life doesn’t revolve around you.”

Harry closed his mouth, a slight pang of hurt on his face. He shook his head. “I just wanted to tell you that me and Kimberly got into our first fight today. I really needed you, Y/N.” You stared into the wine glass, your mind zoning off as Harry went on about the fight.

“I just need you to tell me what to do.” Harry said. You quickly came back to your senses. “I’m sorry, H. I got none of that.” Harry let out a sigh. He was already frustrated enough with Kimberly and being ignored by you wasn’t making it any better. “Damn it, Y/N. Stop thinking about that guy and pay attention to me.”

This time it was your turn to let out a scowl. “I’m sorry Harry that I wasn’t listening to you go on about your wife. Why would I want to hear your problems in your marriage when I’m having problems myself?”

Harry threw his arms out, “You’re supposed to be my best friend! You’re supposed to be listening to my problems and help!”

“My life doesn’t revolve around you, Harry!”

Harry looked away from you, shaking his head. He realized he was being needy but you’ve never had a problem with it before. You were always happy to help him whenever you could. He couldn’t help but think it was because you had a potential guy in your future. He doesn’t know who that guy was, how many dates you guys have been on, or how much you liked him. What he did know was you didn’t look right with that guy.

Harry placed his hand on the door knob before he looked at you. “You’re right. I’m sorry I ruined your night.”

“Wait, H-” You closed your eyes as the door shut. You wrapped your arms around yourself, hating that you were so harsh to Harry. You were about to run after him but you couldn’t help but thinking about what Kimberly said. You knew you shouldn’t let her words get into her head. Why is she just now having a problem with your friendship with Harry when they’ve been together for two years now? You let out a sigh as you sat on your kitchen barstool. You couldn’t help but think about what it would be like from Kimberly’s shoes. You would be insecure as well if your husband had a best friend that has feelings for him. But you weren’t the type of person to jeopardize a marriage, why couldn’t she see that? You leaned your head against your hand. You didn’t know what to do anymore.

When Harry stepped into the elevator, his eyes were staring at your door, expecting you to run after him. When your door made no movement of opening, Harry looked down at the floor as the elevator doors closed.


thank you guys so much for all the feedback married is getting so far! i love that you guys are liking it! i love hearing from you guys! let me know what you guys thought/ want to see what happens next! 

you can find all my writing here 

you can read part 4 here

Babysitter

Summary:  You were visiting home for the weekend to find out that your parents have hired a new babysitter.

Pairing: Kim Taehyung (V) / Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 3.3k

A/N: Rated M - under 18 you have been warned :)

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |Masterlist


You were finally coming home to visit your family, from spending an exhausting year at college. Summer break! Finally some relaxation, hopefully. Your younger siblings might make that impossible.

As soon as you packed your bags for the next few months you had to say goodbye to your roommate/ best friend.

“We are definitely hanging out.” You gladly accepted her request. She only lived an hour from your parents house.

-

As you stood outside your family home, something felt different. You felt like you’ve been gone for so long. You were only a freshman in college, so much change in so little time.

You walked into your house expecting loud chaos from your brother and sister but surprised from the quiet.

“Hello….I’m home.” No answer.

You heard faint screaming in the backyard. As soon as you open the sliding glass door, you saw the kids running, your father grilling and your mother basking in the sun. You missed this.

“(Y/N)’S home!!” You heard your brother and sister run over.

“I missed you guys.” You said as you got smothered into hugs.

-

The few hours you have been home, your old childhood friends were already contacting you to come hang out tonight. It was already 6 o'clock when you went downstairs ready to leave but you noticed that your parents were dressed in a fancy get-up.

“Are you guys going out?” You wished for a no, but judging by their clothes that would be unbelievable.

“Yes, the company your father works for is hosting a dinner party.”

You did your best to try to stay calm, you knew if you complained about having to babysit, you would sound stubborn from only being home a day.

“Does that mean I have to stay home?”

“Where are you going?” Your mother questioned.

“Liz and Sana asked me to come over.” You nervously asked.

“Can Tae watch us?” Your twelve year old brother interrupt.

“Please, please.” Your seven year old sister joined in.

“Who’s Tae?” You asked your parents.

“He’s the babysitter we hired while you were at school.” He?

“Okay I guess, you guys wear that poor kid out.” Your mother answered. He must be some high school kid trying to make money for a new car or worse video games.

“So…I can go?” You already tried to walk towards the door.

“Fine….I’ll call Taehyung….but please keep your phone on just in case.” Your mother demanded.

-

“These were the days.” Sana said as she sipped her beer. You were at a beach party, scattered around a bon fire. In high school, this was your weekend. Even though you’re not old enough to drink, but that never stopped the young people around here.

It’s your decision to not get too drunk though. You hated the experience and you got grounded for a month.

“Hey (Y/N), long time no see.” You saw your ex, if you can call him that Youngjin.

You dated him for a solid month, until you found out he was cheating on you. After you broke things off he would occasionally hit on you and other women in your perspective. It got annoying that you even gave him a bloody nose once.

“Aren’t you looking beautiful tonight.”

You didn’t answer you just smirked and turned your back.

“I’m going to get a drink.” You left.

As you leaned down to open the cooler you felt someone aggressively grab your ass. The pain shot your attention to the person behind you. Youngjin.

“Get your fucking hands off of me.” You felt a little dizzy from the alcohol but you still had your right mind to not let that type of behavior pass.

“What’s wrong, don’t you like that?” He teased.

You pushed him away hard enough to make him lose his balance.

-

Youngjin had ruined your night and you decided to head home. You didn’t feel sick but you did feel tired. As soon as you got home you saw your parents pull up the driveway. Great, what if they can smell the alcohol on you?

You followed your parents footsteps walking through the door.

“How were they?” You heard your parents talking in the living room.

“They were good.” You heard a genuine voice. Must be the babysitter.

“They’re sleeping already.” Your mother told your father.

“Oh (Y/N)….come meet Taehyung.” Your mom caught you half way up the staircase.

You quietly groaned as you made your way to the living room.

“Tae this is our daughter (Y/N).” Your mother moved out of your view to reveal your new replacement and your siblings new best friend.

“Hel-” You started to say but got caught off guard as soon as you saw the mystery man. You felt your mind go into a daze, he was so handsome. You felt butterflies in your stomach, how can someone make you so tongue tied.

“Hi.” You cleared your throat. As soon as you felt him embrace your hand you felt tingles shot throughtout your body.

“It’s nice to meet you.” He smiled an adorable smile that made you felt weak. “Your brother and sister share a lot of stories about you.”

You immediately blushed, knowing your sibling those stories were most likely embarrassing.

“Thank you for coming.” Your mother grabbed his attention from yours.

“It’s no problem, they’re entertaining.”  Your father laughed patting him on the back.

“Have a safe drive home.” Your mother hugged him. He really was your replacement, he was like part of the family now. He even got your brother and sister to bed quicker then you ever have.

“Bye.” You were caught staring the entire time.

“Have you been drinking?” You didn’t pay attention to your mother, you only paid attention to the adorable creature smirking at you as he walked out the door.

“(Y/N)? You have haven’t you? I can smell it.” Your mother pinched the top of her nose to stop a headache passing through.

“Those girls have always been a bad influence.”

“Mom no worries I only had like two drinks….trust me the first time was enough for me I never want to get drunk again.”

“Okay fine but please be responsible, you’re still considered under age.”

“For only three more months.” You defended.

“Doesn’t matter sweetie, the law is the law.” Your father rubbed your back then went upstairs.

“So Tae was cute wasn’t he?” Your mother teased.

“Mom.” You tried to hide your blush.

“He’s a nice boy.” Then your mother left you alone with your thoughts.

-

You made your way to the kitchen too early for your liking but school got you in the habit, even though you still felt groggy.

“(Y/N) sweetie, Taehyung will be here later to pick this up okay?” Your mother waved an envelope. “We didn’t have the cash to pay him last night, so he’s coming to pick it up okay.”

“Okay.” You yawned.

“Come on lets go.” Your mother guided your brother and sister out so they wouldn’t miss the school bus. They still had a another three weeks of school left.

-

You were bumming around just watching TV, when you heard the doorbell. You didn’t even think about it, you just got up and dragged yourself to the door.

When you opened the door you froze. Shit! Your mothers words flashed through your mind. Taehyung was suppose to pick up last night’s pay. If only you were more awake when your mother told you.

Here you were standing in front of an attractive man, wearing yoga shorts, baggy t-shirt, and hair tied up in a messy bun.

“Hi.” You nervously greeted.

“Hey.” He smiled. Butterflies, as he looked at your attire up and down.

“Sorry, I completely forgot you were coming.” You ran to kitchen quickly. As you searched through the kitchen drawers you couldn’t figure out where your mom could have put the envelope.

While you were still searching you heard someone clear their throat to get your attention.

“I got it.” You saw him take it off the magnet from the fridge.

“There it is.” You embarrassingly stated, causing him to laugh.

“How come you’re not in school, I figured you’re in high school?”

He laughed. “No I’m twenty-one.”

“Oh.” He’s older then you. “Are you in college?”

“No, I work with my parents.”

“Cool.” You said cheerfully, but you were just an awkward mess.

“I guess I better get going.” He smiled and started to leave.

“Okay see you later….or not…or I don’t know.” He turned around slightly and arched his eyebrows. Then he laughed cutely and shut the door behind him. You slapped your forehead disappointed in yourself.

“Why are you so awkward?” You whispered to yourself.

-

“You better be here in ten or we are leaving without you.” Liz snapped at you on the phone.

It was a few days later and your parents made plans for a social gathering for another work related thing. Your parents were pretty popular around the neighborhood.

You basically begged your mom to call Taehyung to babysit at last minute because your friends were hounding you to go to another party.

Your mother made the call, apologizing in the process, but you had to wait for Tae to get here yourself because your parents were running late. Your brother and sister was of course excited, they beg for him to be here all the time, even if your parents are home.

When you hung up the phone call with your friend, you heard a knock on the door.

You rushed over to answer and there he was, looking attractive as ever.

“Hi.” You greeted. He smiled, but as soon as he saw your outfit he was taken back. You couldn’t read his facial expression, he just looked shocked. Was it too much? You settled in a tight black skirt, stopping mid-thigh and a long sleeve black and red crop top that stopped right before your waist. It wasn’t too revealing but not too clean either.

As soon as he slightly brushed past you, you heard your sister run into the room and attacked Tae with hugs, not to long your brother.

“Okay, my number is on the fridge if you need me.”

“Bye.” Your sister waved, not even paying attention.

“I wont be too long.”

“Don’t have too much fun.” Taehyung smirked.

-

The party was a disaster, it was over crowed, you were constantly getting dry humped on by dumb drunks and better yet your friends abandoned you, probably some random hook up. You have only been here two hours and counting.

As you were getting ready to leave, you bumped into someone. “Hey sexy.” Youngjin. Ugh.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. Goodbye,” but before you could leave he grabbed your wrist pushing you up against the wall.

“Let go.” He put his lips onto yours. You tried all your strength to push him off but he was not budging.

You bit his lip as hard as you can and kneed him in the stomach, giving you a few seconds to make a run for it.

“You bitch!” You heard him shout in pain.

-

You drove home as quick as you can not caring about leaving your friends. They can find their own ride. You didn’t even have an ounce of alcohol this time, maybe if you did you would of enjoyed yourself more. But you were proud you didn’t, Youngjin would of probably of taken an advantage of you and you would of let him.

Honestly you wished you could of met someone like your friends, you’ve been single for a long time and worse, sexually frustrated. Seeing your college friends in relationships were quiet envious. As you can tell though you have a lot to learn, you are too awkward with attractive men. Tae for example, he probably thinks you’re weird.

-

When you pulled up to the house, you noticed your parents weren’t home yet, as expected. You entered and you saw your brother sleeping in the recliner and your sister cuddled up next to Tae, trying to stay awake.

Tae looked at you surprised that you were home sooner then he thought.

“Hey.” He greeted. “How was whatever?”

“Sucked.” You slouched on the love seat.

“Date?” You were surprised at his annology.

“Party.” You looked down. “And my friends ditched me again so I wasn’t having fun.”

“That’s because they suck.” Dara, your little sister yawned.

“I think it’s time you go to bed.” You got up as you guided your sleepy brother up to his bedroom.

When you left his room, you saw Tae carrying Dara on his shoulder, gently putting her to bed.

“Thank you…you can go home if you want.” You suggested.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He kindly offered.

“Yeah.” You blushed.

You followed him downstairs to the living room.

“I’ll make some popcorn.” You left and went to the kitchen.

You sighed, still thinking about the party. What’s wrong with you?

“Do you want to talk about it?” You heard Tae sweetly ask as you turned around.

“It’s nothing really, I just wish I could meet the standards that my friends have….I’m always a buzz kill.”

“What do you mean?” He questioned getting closer.

“My friends are so pretty and so good at talking to attractive guys….I mean thats why I can’t even talk to you.” You rambled as you turned around to the ding of the microwave. Then it hit you of what you just said.

When you turned around embarrassingly, he was leaning on the counter next to you.

“You have trouble talking to guys?” He questioned. You just nodded. “You’re talking to me right now.” He smiled.

“And if you ask me, a lot of guys are probably tongue tied talking to you.” He blushed. Wait. Did he blush at you?

You froze as he grabbed onto the counter behind you locking you in place.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“N-no.” You tried your best to speak. “Just nervous.”

He looked down shyly. “I felt intimidated as soon as I saw you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah…your sister talks about how pretty you are but I had no idea.”

Your breathing got heavier as you felt him lean in closer to you.

“Please hurry.” You whispered.

He arched his eyebrows surprised from your impatience. As soon as he press his lips to yours, he was surprisingly gently.

You kissed back, lacing your fingers through the back of his hair, slightly tugging. He grabbed your waist pulling you in closer so your hips were aligned, making the butterflies in your stomach shiver throughout your body.

You felt Tae deepen the kiss when you felt his tongue moisture your bottom lip trying to have access inside. It didn’t take you long to open your mouth, letting his tongue explore.

He slowly backed away to take a breather as he moved on to your neck. You bit your lips and tilted your head back as the pleasure was causing the dampness between your legs. The things you felt his tongue could do, you never felt more inexperienced in your life. You only had sex once and it was a dumb mistake with Youngjin, who purposely got you drunk. You don’t remember hardly anything from that night, so this was a new feeling to you.

Tae lightly sucking all up and down your neck, leaving marks behind. He reached around kissing you passionately again as he picked you up and placed you on to the counter top.

You both stopped for a second, resting your foreheads against each other. Your breathing was not slowing down from the gently touching, making his way up your shirt.

The adrenaline was revealing a side of you you never seen before. As he was making his way up to your bra, you grabbed a hold of his belt buckle. Your confidence getting the better of you. You undid his belt along with his pants.

“You really want to do this?” He asked concerned. You just nodded desperately.

“What if your parents walk in on us….I think it would be clear I would be fired.” You giggled from how cute he was.

“When it comes to social gathering my parents won’t be back till midnight….trust me.” You said lustfully.

He went back to kissing you, slowly pulling your shirt above your head and on to the floor. You placed your hand once more to his now open pants buckle, gently rubbing the sensitive area. As you started feeling him get harder he grabbed your hand stopping you.

“I wont last much longer if you keep doing that.” He laughed out of breath.

His fingers danced up your thighs making their way under your skirt. You felt his finger hook the edge of your underwear pulling them down.

You could feel your heart beating out of your chest, but you loved every second of it.

You saw Taehyung looked down disappointed. “I don’t have…..-protection.”

You laughed from the worry on his face. “What….I wasn’t planning on coming here, thinkin-” You kissed him to stop his ramble.

“It’s fine….I’m on birth control.” You pulled down the rest of your underwear and tossed them to the floor. He leaned into you closer, quickly pulling his pants down only enough to be exposed.

He leaned his forehead to yours for a second like he was thinking. Your breathing quickened when you felt his member brush your folds.

“You sure-” He asked once more.

“Yes Tae.”

Then he pushed into you, following your request. You quietly squealed from the surprise of his size. You stiffened until your body could adjust. “You okay?” He asked sweetly.

You nodded wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in even closer. He started kissing your neck once again as he started thrusting inside of you deeper. You couldn’t help but moan loudly as he quicken his movements.

He suddenly stop putting his hand over your mouth. “Let’s try not to wake your siblings okay.” He laughed.

“Sorry.” You pouted.

He rocked his hips as he leaned into you, kissing your neck diligently. He quickened his speed harder hitting your g spot. You felt a rush as the pleasure was setting in. The only sound was your heavy breathing and the light tapping from underneath you. You felt your walls clench as you heard his low grunts, the way he was turning you on you were going to let go any second.

“Tae.” You cried.

“Fuck….I’m-” You couldn’t get your words out. You were a moaning mess as you felt sensitive from your orgasm flooding through. You were trying to refrain yourself as best as you could, but the ecstasy was throwing you off. The new feeling made you numb.

“Shhhh.” He smirked.

You could tell he was close from his movements being sloppy. You embraced him with another tender kiss to ease his pleasure. You felt your body go weak as soon as his juices shot through your body warming you up, the whole experience made you feel drowsy. 

You guys were breathing heavy as you stopped to process what just happened. You bit your lip as you looked up at him nervously. “Do you want to go watch that movie now?” You suggested.

He looked at you amused and laughed. “Sure.”

You watched him back away from you and buckle his pants. You couldn’t help but blush, the way he looked at you was so sexy. You developed feelings for him in such a short time.

You were about to hop off the counter when he grabbed your hips helping you down. “Wow a gentleman.” You teased.

“I’m going to change into something more comfortable.” He nodded. As soon as you turned towards the stairs he grabbed your wrist pulling you to his chest. He grabbed the back of your neck pulling you in a deep passionate kiss.

“Don’t be too long.” He bit his lip and made his way to the living room.

-

You and Taehyung were cuddled up on the couch with a blanket drenched over you. He would steal kisses from you here and there. He was sweet and adorable and the butterflies in your stomach were never ending. You were hoping that this wasn’t a one time thing. He made you feel….happy.

-

Your parents came home at the time expected, 1 o'clock.

Your mother came into the living room surprised to see that you and Taehyung were sleeping on the couch, cuddled side by side.

“Minho, come look at this.”

Your father just arched an eyebrow.

“They look so cute.” Your mother said.

“Should we wake them?” Your father asked.

“No let them sleep.”

-

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

anonymous asked:

How do you write a fight scene without becoming repetitive? I feel like it just sounds like "she did this then this then this." Thanks so much!

I watch her as she fights. Her left leg flies through the air – a roundhouse – rolling into a spin. She misses, but I guess she’s supposed to. Her foot lands and launches her into a jump. Up she goes again, just as fast. The other leg pumps, high knee gaining altitude. The jumping leg tucks. Her body rolls midair, momentum carrying her sideways. She kicks. A tornado kick, they call it. The top of her foot slams into Rodrigo’s head, burying in his temple. Didn’t move back far enough, I guess.

His head, it snaps sideways like a ball knocked off a tee. Skull off the spine. His eyes roll back, and he slumps. Whole body limp. Legs just give out beneath him. He clatters to the sidewalk; wrist rolling off the curb.

She lands, making the full turn and spins back around. Her eyes are on his body. One foot on his chest. I don’t know if he’s alive. I don’t know if she cares. Nah, she’s looking over her shoulder. Looking at me.

The truth twists my gut. I should’ve started running a long time ago.

The first key to writing a good fight scene is to tell a story. The second key is having a grasp of combat rules and technique. The third is to describe what happens when someone gets hit. The fourth is to remember physics. Then, roll it all together. And remember: be entertaining.

If you find yourself in the “and then” trap, it’s because you don’t have a firm grasp of what exactly it is your writing. “He punched” then “She blocked” then “a kick” only gets you so far.

You’ve got to get a sense for shape and feeling, and a sense of motion. Take a page from the comic artist’s playbook and make a static image feel like it’s moving. Try to remember that violence is active. Unless your character is working with a very specific sort of soft style, they’re attacks are going to come with force. So, you’ve got to make your sentences feel like your hitting something or someone.

“Ahhh!” Mary yelled, and slammed her fist into the pine’s trunk. A sickening crack followed, then a whimper not long after.

Angie winced. “Feel better?”

Shaking out her hand, Mary bit her lip. Blood dripped from her knuckles, uninjured fingers gripping her wrist. She sniffed, loudly. “I…” she paused, “…no.”

“You break your hand?”

“I think so. Yeah.”

“Good,” Angie said. “Think twice next time before challenging a tree.”

Let your characters own their mistakes. If they hit something stupid in anger, like a wall or a tree then let them have consequences. Injury is part of combat. In the same way, “I should be running now” is. When the small consequences of physical activity invade the page, they bring reality with them.

People don’t just slug back and forth unless they don’t know how to fight, or their only exposure to combat is mostly movies or bloodsport like boxing. Either way, when one character hits another there are consequences. It doesn’t matter if they blocked it or even deflected it, some part of the force is going to be transitioned into them and some rebounds back at the person who attacked.

Your character is going to get hurt, and it’ll be painful. Whether that’s just a couple of bruises, a broken bone, or their life depends on how the fight goes.

However, this is fantasy. It is all happening inside our heads. Our characters are never in danger unless we say they are. They’ll never be hurt unless we allow it. A thousand ghost punches can be thrown and mean absolutely, utterly nothing at all to the state of the character. This is why it is all important to internalize the risks involved.

The writer is in charge of bringing a dose of reality into their fictional world. It is much easier to sell an idea which on some level mimics human behavior and human reactions. The ghost feels physical because we’ve seen it happen on television or relate to it happening to us when we get injured.

You’ve got five senses, use them. You know what it feels like to get injured. To be bruised. To fall down. To be out of breath. Use that.

Here’s something to take with you: when we fight, every technique brings us closer together. Unless it specifically knocks someone back. You need specific distances to be able to use certain techniques. There’s the kicking zone, the punching zone, and the grappling zone. It’s the order of operation, the inevitable fight progression. Eventually, two combatants will transition through all three zones and end up on the ground.

So, keep the zones in mind. If you go, “she punched, and then threw a roundhouse kick” that’s wrong unless you explain more. Why? Because if the character is close enough to throw a punch, then they’re too close to throw most kicks. The roundhouse will just slap a knee or a thigh against the other character’s ribs, and probably get caught. If you go, “she punched, rammed an uppercut into his stomach, and seized him by the back of the head”, then that’s right. You feel the fighters getting progressively closer together, which is how its supposed to work.

Use action verbs, and change them up. Rolled, rotated, spun, punched, kicked, slammed, rammed, jammed, whipped, cracked, etc.

You’ve got to sell it. You need to remember a human’s bodily limits, and place artificial ones. You need to keep track of injuries, every injury comes with a cost. Make sure they aren’t just trading blows forever.

I’ve seen advice that says fights all by themselves aren’t interesting. I challenge that assertion. If you’re good at writing action, then the sequence itself is compelling. You know when you are because it feels real. Your reader will tune out if it isn’t connecting, and the fight scene is a make or break for selling your fantasy. It is difficult to write or create engaging, well choreographed violence that a reader can easily follow and imagine happening.

-Michi

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Through the Years (Part 8)

Summary: Through mysterious circumstances, you find yourself exchanging letters with a man who lived 70 years in the past.

Word Count: 2,328

“Through the Years” Masterlist

A/N: Enjoy, guys! <3

Originally posted by dailyevanstan


Steve was wiping a piece of croissant from his lips as you asked after Bucky’s letters. You gnawed on your bottom lip, took a deep breath, and mustered up all the courage you had.

“Steve?”

He hummed, looking up at you through his lashes.

You looked down, not being able to keep eye contact. Steve’s brow furrowed, he stopped chewing, leaning forward.

“What?”

You shook your head, taking in a shaky breath. “I—I was just wondering if you…” You paused, looked up and then back to your plate again. “Do you still have Bucky’s letters?”

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Worse Than Nicotine

Prompt: “You’re the health-conscious med student and I’m the chain-smoking art student who’s also your barista and you leave me notes on smoking and lung health on your napkins and also a 20-page essay on lung cancer tucked under your saucer” AU. Where Sirius is the chain-smoking art student.

Word Count: About 5,500.

Warning(s): Smoking, sexual tension, kissing, motorcycle ride without all the gear. Don’t accept a ride from someone on a motorcycle unless they supply the proper gear and you’re wearing pants and a heavy jacket, preferably. Do some research before riding!

Note: Sort of a modern, college AU. This isn’t smut, but, I have to warn you, it does end up being smoking hot. Hah. Get it? Anyway, thank you @princesse-de-ravenclaw for reading this over!


To the barista with the pretty grey eyes,

Smoking can cause the lens of the eyes to fog up and the whites of the eyes to turn yellow. Don’t ruin their beauty. If not for yourself, then for those who have the pleasure of seeing them. ;)

Love, Y/N.

Sirius rolled his eyes, a slight chuckle escaping his lips as he pocketed yet another note from you. If you were to open a spare drawer in his flat, you would find a collection of tossed napkins with rushed scribbles littering the surface. Maybe one day Sirius would take your insistent advice, but right now, all he wanted was a drag.

“Another love letter from your favorite med student?”

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Our Little Secret - Part Ten

Summary: Dean wakes you up with some bad news about Vegas

Series Masterlist

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Square Filled: hand-holding  for @spnkinkbingo

Kink(s): Mutual Masturbation

Word Count: 5100

Warnings: Smut, masturbation, ANGST, torture, canon typical violence. THE PLOT GOT AWAY FROM ME AND THERE ARE SO MANY FEELS

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. I’m really loving these character and this series. Thank you for your wonderful responses. A special thank you to the people who looked this over for me.

***THE TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED**

“Sweetheart?” Dean’s voice is there, your brain groggy with sleep. You moan and hug the pillow tighter, burying your face into it.

He chuckles, “C’mon, you gotta get up.”

“Nuh-uh,” you protest, curling up more.

His hand runs up and down your side, “Sam heard of a hunt and we are the closest right now.”

You grumble incoherently, opening one eye. Deans sitting on the edge of the bed in front of you, fully dressed, looking amused, “C’mon.”

You shake your head, flipping over and pulling the covers around you like a child. You had been sleeping so damn go so you are a little put out.

Keep reading

Suga Daddy: Part 9

Suga Daddy: Part 9 (m)

Word count: 8.2k

Genre/Warnings: angst, smut, dom!Yoongi, dirty talk, role-play (I’m sorry Yugyeom)

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Summary: It’s finally time for your showcase but Yoongi is nowhere to be found.

I know some of you have been reading this since the beginning and that’s crazy to me. Thank you so much for the constant support. I love you guys and Yoongi so yeah, onto the next chapter :) 

 Parts: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

This week had been nonstop practice for you. You spent so much time at school or in your dance studio. The dance showcase was getting closer and closer but you were damn well ready. Plus like you had said, Yoongi was now at your place, at night like nothing had happened. He would come to your home, spend wonderful passionate nights with you, play with the dog and be gone before you woke up the next morning.

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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. 

I’ll Keep You Safe // A Stiles Stilinski AU

Collab with @sarcasticallystilinski

Prompt: What if you had a countdown on your arm telling you exactly who you’re going to lose next?

Relationship: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Oral (Male on Female), Virginity Loss, Skinny Dipping, Swearing, and So much fucking angst. Make sure you have tissues ready. 

Word Count: 12,271 

Song: I’ll Keep You Safe by Sleeping At Last

A/N: This is without a doubt one of the best fics Hayley and I have ever written. Not just as a collab, but amongst our own works as well. We are both so fucking in love with this story and I hope you guys love it as much as we do. Words cannot explain how amazing and beautiful this fic is to me.

If you are the kind of person who enjoys reading bubbly love stories with happy endings than I must advice you now that this story is not one of those. Because I am about to tell you the story of two lovers so addicted to each other and so connected to the other that they cheated death itself — only to be struck by another wave of agonizing tragedy instead.

Y/N Y/L/N and Stiles Stilinski were the two greatest lovers time and the universe have ever witnessed… and that drove them insane. Jealousy taking over both of their features, the universe did everything it could to separate the two until finally time found a vicious way to win. How could they have known a force so much stronger and so much darker than the incredible love they shared had begun to take over?

It didn’t matter how hard they tried to fight back nor how much they begged time for mercy, their destinies were already paved. All they could do was accept its path and believe in the quote life had beautifully taught them:

The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.

Keep reading

Promises (Part One)

Requested by Anonymous

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter Parker is your best friend (and crush), although you don’t know he’s Spider-Man yet. One day, you’re attacked by The Vulture and badly hurt.

Word count: 1,472

Warnings: Some violence and mention of blood.

Tags: @thisisthelilith @idroppedthefries @avengers-earths-mightiest-heroes

A/N: I’m still shook about spiderman: homecoming, the avengers: infinity war trailer (that i didn’t even get to see smh), and I recently found out that infinity wars was being filmed in Queens A WEEK before I was planning to visit NYC…so I’ve been working on this request to calm me down lol. I have way too many feelings about Marvel atm. Someone please help me 🙃 (Also, I’m turning this request into multiple parts because I had way too many ideas for it and it was about to be way too long)

(Part Two)


“Hey, you,” You heard from behind your locker door.              

The voice scared you so much that you slammed your locker shut in panic. When you saw who it was, your cheeks turned bright crimson.

“Jesus, Peter. You scared the shit out of me.”

Peter just grinned, amused that he was able to fluster you without even trying.

“Sorry. Why so jumpy today?” he asked with a chuckle.

“I don’t know. I just woke up feeling kind of weird today. It’s no big deal. What are you doing after school today? Ned told me he got the Lego Deathstar set.”

Peter raised an eyebrow and leaned against the locker beside you. Your quick change of subject and flustered rambling couldn’t trick him. He knew something was wrong with you, but he decided to bypass it for now. He didn’t want to make you talk about something you didn’t want to talk about, so he just shook his head and carried on with the conversation as if everything was normal.

“I heard. I wish I could help you guys build it, but I got the Stark internship after school.”

You rolled your eyes and copied his pose, your shoulder falling hard against your locker.

“You always have the Stark internship. Doesn’t he ever let you take a break?”

Peter chuckled again.

“Uh, not really. No. It’s okay though, I like it.”

You were still annoyed, but you didn’t want to crap all over something Peter loved. So you just gave him a little fake smile instead.

“I’m glad you enjoy it. Ned and I will miss you though.”

Peter gave you one of his little appreciative half-smiles.

“I’ll miss you, too. Uh, both of you… I mean,” He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Anyways, can I walk you out?”

You nodded and the both of you headed towards the front entrance of Midtown High.

You and Peter had parted ways a while back on your journey home. You felt a little antsy walking alone in Queens, and Peter was reluctant to leave you alone, but you convinced him that you would be fine. You kept checking your phone nervously, waiting for Ned to text you back about the plan for that night. When you looked up, you realized that you didn’t even know where you were walking anymore. You stopped and looked around. There was an ominous feeling in the air – the same creepy feeling you got when you woke up this morning. Something bad was about to happen. You could feel it.

You spun around, and just as you did, you saw a winged creature swooping down to grab you. The last thing you saw before you blacked out was a pair of mechanical talons gripping your shoulders.

When you woke up, your vision was blurry. You tried to sit up, but when you did, your body was wracked with pain. You fell back to the ground and hit your head on the pavement, worsening your anguish. When you reached back to cradle it, you felt something warm and sticky on your hands. You tried to lift your other arm, but couldn’t. You tried and failed to move your legs as well. You didn’t know what happened to you, but you knew that it was bad. You lay still, waiting for the pain to stop when you saw a blurry figure running to you.

“Y/N!” You heard the figure scream, and you knew at once that it was Peter.

But you were out before you could even say his name.

… 

Beep…Beep…Beep.

The first thing you heard before you opened your eyes was the steady beeping of the heart monitor next to you. The next thing was worried voices speaking next to you.

“She’s going to be alright, kid. It’ll take her a while to get there, but she’s going to be alright.”

“You don’t get it, Tony. I let this happen. Me. This whole thing is my fault.”

As soon as you recognized the second voice as Peter’s, you knew you had to open your eyes for him. It took all of the strength in your body, but finally your eyes fluttered open. You tried to say something comforting to him, but nothing came out. Instead, you made a grunting noise and tried to reach out for him.

Peter immediately kneeled down next to you and put an arm on your shoulder.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Wait, no, don’t try to talk. Or move. Just…thank god you’re okay.”

“P…Peter. W-what…happened?” You struggled to ask.

Peter just stared at you with a pained expression.

“It’s…complicated. You got hurt. But you’re going to be okay now.”

You turned your gaze to Tony Stark, who was standing sullenly in the corner of the room.

“Why is he here? Where am I?”

Tony stepped forward and gripped the footboard of your hospital bed.

“You’re in Avengers Tower. In the medical bay.”

“What? Why aren’t I in a real hospital? Where’s my parents…?”

You shifted uncomfortably under your sheets, trying to sit up, but stopped abruptly and groaned when you felt a sharp pain in your ribs. Peter pressed gently on your shoulder to keep you from moving.

“I wouldn’t do that, Y/N.”

“Why am I here? And where are my parents?” You asked again sharply, starting to fully regain your voice.

“Your parents are on their way here. And, uh, you’re here because… well, because…”

“Because Peter reached out to me for help when he found you. We’ve got the best and brightest working here. You’re in very good hands,” Tony interrupted.

“Yeah, exactly. Plus he offered to keep you here for free so your parents won’t have to pay any medical bills. He’s been really helpful with all of this.”

You relaxed back into your pillows, staring at Tony with a questioning look.

“Thank you, Tony,” you mumbled, not buying that that was the whole story.

“No problem. Any friend of Peter’s is a friend of mine. I should go, but Peter here will take excellent care of you. It was a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I’m just sorry it had to be under these circumstances.”

With that, he patted Peter roughly on the shoulder, gave him a look over the rim of his glasses, and walked out the door.

“What was that about?” You questioned Peter.

“Nothing. It’s fine.”

He put both of his elbows on the edge of your bed, balling his fists together and resting them against his lips. He was thinking very hard about something.

“Peter… don’t think for one second that I’m going to give up asking about what’s going on. I’m not stupid. I know something bad happened, and I need to know what it was,” You croaked.

Peter looked into your eyes, and you could tell he knew you were right. He had to tell you, no matter how hard it was for him. He sighed loudly and got up to pull up a chair beside you.

“Okay. Uh, I don’t really know how to say this…but, uh, you were attacked. By The Vulture. Do you know who that is?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, searching your brain for any prior knowledge you had of who that could be. When you finally remembered seeing him on the news a few times, you nodded slowly.

“Spider-Man fought him a couple of times, right?”

Peter nodded at the floor, not able to look you in the eyes.

“Ned called me and said you never texted him back. He seemed really worried, so I started walking to your house to see if you were there. And then on the way I saw him… and I found you. Just laying there in an alley. I was so scared. I thought that I was too late. I thought I lost you, Y/N.”

He looked so upset that it took everything in your power not to sit up and wrap your arms around him. Instead, you rested your hand on top of his. It was all you could muster. Peter sniffled a little bit and gave you a weak smile.

“I don’t understand, Peter. What would The Vulture want with me?”

Peter looked up at you and shook his head slowly.

“I…don’t know, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

He looked like he was almost in as much pain as you, so you intertwined your fingers with his in an attempt to comfort him further.

“Why are you sorry? This isn’t your fault, Peter.”

He smiled again, but he still looked tormented.

“I’m never going to let anything bad happen to you again,” he whispered, tightening his grip on your hand. “I promise.”

You smiled at him sleepily. Feeling your cheeks beginning to burn, you cleared your throat and released his hand.

“So…Avengers Tower, huh? Do you think you could get Black Widow to pay me a visit?”

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

Eighteen {KJM} (M)

Part 1 | Part 2
The Letter

Description: You’re an eighteen year old bartender and Junmyeon comes in with Baekhyun one day. He hits on you, then feels bad because your eighteen, then realizes he just doesn’t care. He likes you.

Genre: Fluff / Smut / Angst

Word Count: 10,384

Warning: Smut

Pairing: Kim Junmyeon (Suho) x Reader (feat. Baekhyun)

Author: Admin Xiufairy ㅅㅇㅅ

Originally posted by dazzlingkai

At eighteen, you were perfectly content working at a bar. You just served everybody who came up to you, it was that easy. It was fun for you, but if you had a penny for every time a much older man hit on you, you’d be rich enough to leave the country.

They all backed down when you told them that you were only eighteen thankfully, but you’d begun to wonder exactly why that changed people’s minds. It wasn’t as busy as usual that night, at least at the bar. The floor was always crazy and loaded with people.

Keep reading

Like it's Real (1/3) Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Tom and Y/N are childhood best friends. So when Tom’s publicist told him to fake-date someone, Y/N seems to be the best choice. But will it stay fake, or will true feelings start to blossom?

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: I’ll be posting the second part soon, and maybe even a third part. Make sure to keep your eyes open for it. And thank you for all the notes I received on my last fic. I love you all!


You were having netflix marathon when suddenly your phone blared the spider-man theme, making you jump a little.

“Hi Tom,what’s up?“you cheerfuly answered.

Tom had insisted you to set it as your ringtone whenever he called. He could be such a child sometimes.

"I was wondering if you would do me favor? A huge one?” he asked, voice wavering a little.

“Well I guess it depends” you chuckled. “What do you have in mind?”

“Could we maybe meet in my apartment? It’s quite complicated to be discussed over a phone.”

“Um okaaay. See you in a bit.”

Ending the call, you quickly throw on a t-shirt and jeans before driving your car to Tom’s apartment.

You spent the whole ride wondering what would Tom need you for. You can’t help but feel a little nervous because of how weird he’s being.

You rang the doorbell and after a few seconds, the door swung open to reveal Tom’s usual bright smile.

“Y/N!” He greeted, pulling you in for a hug. “Thanks for coming even though it must be super weird,” he chuckled nervously.

Entering his apartment, you asked, “What is this all about?”

“C'mon, we’ll explain it to you,” he told you, ushering you into his livin room.

“We? What do you mean we?” you asked confused. That is when you turned around to see Zendaya and a man sitting on his couch.

“Y/N, meet Zendaya and my publicist. Everyone, this is Y/N,” Tom announced.

Zendaya stood up and engulfs you in a hug.

“So this is he famous Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you. Tom over there never stops talking about you,”

You threw a glance at him noticing a faint blush appear on his cheeks.

“It’s nice to meet you too. You did a great job on the movie,” you smiled to her before stalking off to shake the publicist’s hand.

You took a seat next to Tom, still clueless to what is taking place.

“So, care to explain?”

From the corner of your eye,you saw Tom taking a calming breath before speaking.

“I’m sure you knew about all the dating rumors of me and Zendaya.” You nodded, urging him to continue.

“There’s been so many of it that it started to make us uncomfortable. Especially Zendaya,” Tom explained before glancing at Zendaya for help.

“You see,” she began, “I’m actually dating someone else right now. It’s been a while now but we’re not ready to go public yet. We still want our privacy,”

Sitting quietly, you let the informations sink in.

“What does any of that have to do with me?” You questioned, clearly confused.

“Well, we’ve been discussing it for a while now, and we think having Tom fake-dating someone would be best,” informed the publicist.

“And we’re sure that no one can fit the role better than you Miss Y/N. With the dating rumours of you and Tom-”

“What?! There are dating rumours about us?” You exclaimed, looking at Tom with wide eyes.

Scratching thr back of his neck, Tom muttered, “There are only a few here and there. ”

“With all that, we figured it would be much easier,” continued thhe publicist. “After all, it’s not uncommon to find a pair of best friends turn into lovers.”

You were left speechless.

“You can sign here if you agree,” the publicist said, sliding a contract in front of you.

From a cheeky 12 year old to an adult. You’ve always seen Tom in no other than a platonic light. And besides, this is to help Tom, yo’re best friend. You should always help a friend in need.

“I understand if you don’t want to,” Tom mutttered, looking at his feet. “I know this is a hug thing to as-”

“I’ll do it,” you smiled, cutting him off. “I’ll sign the contract.”

Picking up the pen, you scrawled your signature at the bottom of the contract. You lifted your head to see Tom grnning widely at you before pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Thank you Y/N! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He beamed.

“You’re welcome Tom,” you chuckled into his shoulder.

Zendaya’s hug came next. “ Thank you so much Y/N. I owe you big time.”

“We should start immediately. I think tomorrow would be great!” The publicist said, springing to work.

“Are you free tomorrow Miss Y/N? You guys could go on a date and let the paparazzi take a few shots.”

“Sure, I’m free the whole summer,” you assured him.

You’re both excited and nervous for tomorrow but again, what could possibly go wrong?