the-gloved-one

2

Your heart practically leaped into your throat. You had been pinned. Your back against the cold grimes bars of the sewer and yet you found yourself gripping at them to make sure this was reality and not some dream. There was so much talk. So many whispers about curses on Derry. The deaths, the missing children cases, it was all too intriguing. You had to check it out. And you did. Sure enough with a little digging on research, you figured the sewers was your best bet to find some answers. It had been hours. Your flashlight even starting to go dead. Deciding it was time to call it a night, you began to try and make your way out. Head held low in defeat.

However you couldn’t find the light. There was no exit in sight. Even worse, you began to hear things. Splashes. Like footsteps in the murky sludgy water. Someone was here with you. Your pace quickened as you tried to make sense of the tunnels. There was a way out. You could find it. There was no doubt it was getting dark, so you could only pray the moon was bright enough for you to see the opening. And it was. You saw light. A white light. Oh thank the heavens, you were gonna get out of here and get yourself a hamburger and shake. You deserved it after this mess of a day. Yet when you walked closer, you realized it wasn’t light. Not really. More of a glory mist. A replica of the moons light. You furrow your brows, confused and nervous. What was this?

“Looking for me?” You whip around and step back. You could hardly see what was speaking to you. Your hands desperately fumbling with the flashlight. Finally you aimed the beam forward. Which… didn’t work out since it abruptly died before you could get a good look. Perfect. “Who are you?” You swallow hard and try to remain calm. It was much more scary not knowing what was there. You’d probably be more comfortable if it was a giant werewolf than some unknown person.

“Well there is a million dollar question! Who am I? Who am I… hm? Why I am Pennywise the Dancing clown!” His voice was odd. It was pleasant yet the pitch changes in his sentences were dramatic and insane. “You’re… a clown?” You say softly and squint your eyes, desperate to see this “clown.” You didn’t really need to though. Suddenly there was a broad chest in front of you. Dangly red PomPoms inched from your face. You slowly look up. Your eyes resting on the face of said clown. Oh he was a clown alright, but not like one you have ever seen. He looked human and yet… didn’t. He was off. Everything was off.

You stepped back again. Your back against the bars and your hands gripping at them for comfort. Back to the beginning. “What’s wrong? Am I not… pretty enough for you?” His voice grew deep and grotesque. The change only a precursor, though. Red lips curled and there was a crack, his jaw widening and teeth beginning to protrude from places NO ONE should have teeth. “You are the one who’s been killing these people.” You whisper in shock. Maybe fear. Mostly shock. You weren’t sure. “It was all you…”

“CoRRecT…” He snarls and slammed himself forward. His hands gripping the bars at the sides of your head. His body completely blocking you from moving or running away. You stare up into his red ringed eyes. You were scared and yet this is what you had been searching for all your life. Something out of this world. Here is was, right in front of you. In the form of a monstrous clown. What a find.

Pennywise leaned down. His face now lined up perfectly in front of yours. With was drastic considering how y’all he was. “Aren’t you a curious little rat. I can smell it on you. You wanna learn more about old Pennywise?” You found yourself unconsciously nodding your head. His hands left the bars and he held them out in front of you. His jaw returning to a more “normal” state, but jagged teeth still Poked out from his lips. “Then why don’t you come with Pennywise like goooood little doll you are~ Then I’ll show you whatever you want.”

There was so much malicious intent behind those words. Yet you could tell he was curious too. He wanted to understand your curiosity. Entertain himself for a bit. Even though you may not ever be seen again, you found yourself wanting to take the offer. You wanted to see more. No matter how terrifying it was. You wanted to know.

Your hands gently rested on top of his large gloved ones. His fingers locking around you and pulling you closer. A look of pure satisfaction on his face. Like a child who got what he wanted.

“Perfect~ I will take good care of you. Yes I will…”

wallsofgoo  asked:

TOP 5 JOHN BOYEGA LOOKS

first of all… 5? this how i know the devil is real… but anyway lets get into it.

5) John at the Graham Norton show. listen..a sweater+a suit jacket (in deep fall colors) was enough but what pushed this over from “i just look this good” to “fry an egg on me” is the hair - the fade, the lineup, the LINE on the side. 

4) The Queen of Katwe London Premiere. I love me some John in print. I love me some John reminding me he’s Nigerian.

3) BAFTAs. Even when he’s wearing classic colors he does it big. Why settle for boringass matte black when you can go velvet.

2)Promoing TFA - random place. The look that changed me. The long coat, the shades, fitted jeans, all black, the way he’s standing, one hand in his pocket, gazing to the side, serving LOOKS. this look changed me as a PERSON. i went from a northface jacket kinda girl to wearing on sale matte brown coats from zara.

1) TFA Premiere. Are you surprised? You’re not. The day he reminded all these regular-degular hoes at the premeire w/him that HE was the ONE. he told us finn was gonna be a jedi with this look. he came into my house on this day to wipe away my tears w/his one gloved hand, slick down my edges, steal me from star trek and i embraced him into my heart as my main. i actually didnt know sw existed before this look and really…did anyone?

anonymous asked:

Omg love your HCs!! They are all so cute!!!! >V< can u please do RFA +V and Saeran x MC first time holding hands? Like what would their reactions be?? Again LOVE your HCs!!! Omg bye!!~~

(THANK YOU ANON! I GOT YOU!)
~~~~~~~~
Zen:
• Honestly, it wasn’t very long in your relationship you started holding hands.
• Basically it was your first date.
• The both of you were just walking in the park together. Laughing, and getting to know each other.
• And my god you looked so perfect. He actually wanted to just kiss you. I mean, the sun was shining on your flawless skin, the wind blew stands of (H/C) hair in your face..it was breath taking.
• BUT HE KNEW THAT MIGHT GET WEIRD ON A FIRST DATE S O!!!!
• He slowly inched his hand down beside yours, and began interlacing your small, delicate fingers in his larger ones.
• hEBLUSHEDSOHARD, BUT MADE EYE CONTACT AND YOU JUST- WOAHMAN HEY WUDDUP AHA.
• After that, he never really likes going out in public without your hand in his.
~~~~~~~~~
707:
• This cheeky little sh-
• After he finally realized his true feelings for you, and stopping pushing everything and everyone away (anti-social much? Me too.)
• He asked you to go to a cat shelter with him.
• After all, Vanderwood didn’t say his partner couldn’t have a cat and just so happen to..bring it over. A lot.
• Does this count as your first date? Well, technically. You’ve hung out a lot, but never really anywhere but the parties and RFA members houses.
• “(Y/N)!!! This cat is just so cute! You should have it! I’ll even pay!”
• “Seven- I- I can’t take care of a cat?!”
• He B E G S.
• And for the first time, he gently grabs a hold of your hand, holding it tightly in his.
• He places a kiss on your cheek, and gives you the cutest little pouty face.
• At this point, you’re a blushing, awkward mess.
• “Uh-m uh..some soft hands you got there..”
• He smirks for a moment, before thinking of the dumbest thing he can say in that moment.
• “thanks, I use a lot of lotion. If you catch my dri-”
• “O K A Y SO LETS GET THE CAT AND SKADADDLE OKBYE NOW, FUNTIMES WOO.”
• But you never did seem to let go of his hand, the rest of the day, at least.
~~~~
Jumin:
• You would think it would take a while for him to get all..lovey dovey with you.
• But it was kind of a happy medium.
• So basically, it was the 4th-5th ‘date’
• Really doesn’t want to rush things. He’s a firm believer that love takes time.
• But when it happens, it’s actually kind of sweet.
• You’re lying on his couch, waiting for him to come back in with the breakfast he ‘couldn’t wait to make for you’
• He walks in the living room to check on you, smiling over at your resting figure.
• He can’t help but want to keep walking towards you.
• And soon, he can’t even control himself?
• “Jumin? What are you-”
• He picks you up, and sets you down in his lap, all whilst placing you hand in his.
• And he doesn’t even really say much. Other than he “felt like it” when questioned on what he was doing.
• This was cute, comfortable and all, but..
• “whats that burning smell??”
• “..Shi-”
~~~~~
Jaehee:
• okay this is so obvious but.
• coFFEE DATEEE!!!
• Or at least, on your way to.
• It’s a really cold morning, the two of you have been dating for a couple weeks now. So, you decided to bundle up, and grab some coffee.
• Now, she didn’t have gloves. You would think she would, but ohhoho, Nope she is not prepared.
• Thankfully, you have a trick up your sleeve. A smoothhhh move, this way it won’t be awkward to make the move. You go, (Y/N).
• You take off the glove on one of your hands, and hand it to her.
• At this point, she’s looking between you and glove, a bit confused.
• You then place your uncovered, warm hand in her freezing one.
• “What are you waiting for, silly? Put on the other glove~”
• You smooth mother-
• She’s a blushing mess, really. But she adores you.
~~~~~~
Yoosung:
• Sweetbbyboy
• he’s so innocent. He’s never even held hands.
• One day, you’re playing games with him at his place, and well…beating him.
• “How are you so good at this?!” Yoosung frustratedly says.
• “I guess I’m just a pro.”
• He gives you an 'o really’ look, with the intent of picking up his game.
• But he needed motivation.
• “if I win this next round, you have to hold hands with me the rest of the day. Minus when one of us needs to go to the restroom.”
• He still lost tho, lol.
• But, you couldn’t help but want your own prize.
• “how about we do it anyways?”
• HES SUCH A MESS.
• YOUR HAND IS SO!!! CUTE! AND SOFT! AND JUST!!!!! HE WANTS TO HOLD IT FOREVER!!!!
• Yes, you’re that couple.
• The one that is always painfully close and always holding the others hands.
• But he loves every minute of it. And so do you.
~~~~~
V:
• It was not long at allll before you help hands.
• Before he got eye surgery, he needed your “help” to get around. So, he wanted you to hold his hand and guide him around so he could get the things he needed to get.
• But he could actually see well enough.
• He just wanted to hold your hand.
• You had butterflies, he had butterflies, you two were honestly just lovey messes on the inside.
• But you loved it.
• (bonus)
• When he got the eye surgery, you had no idea. And he made you hold his hand again…however, something was off. It seemed he was bringing you along more than you were to him..
• “V- can you..”
• You were then cut off by none other than Jumin, who just so happened to be driving by.
• “V! How’d that surgery go?”
• gASP!
~~~~~~
Saeran:
• Okay so he was not getting physical ATTT ALLLL!!!
• And this kind of frustrated you.
• Yes, sweetie I know you’re bad with human interaction buT WE HAVE BEEN DATING ALMOST 2 MONTHS PLS LOVE ME.
• So, RFA helped you come up with a plan. A jealously plan.
• Yep, you were gonna try and get Saeran to get all jealous and protective over you. Maybe even get him to get a little closer.
• It started small, You’d have Yoosung start flirting a little with you in the group chat.
• Plan fails, and Saeran just leaves the chats with no word.
• You knew you had to step up the game.
• One day, you and Saeran go out for a walk around town, just casually talking with each other.
• When you 'coincidentally’ run into Zen just up ahead.
• “(Y/N)! Hey! You look cute today!”
• You weren’t expecting him to say that of all things, so you couldn’t help the tiny blush that appeared on your face.
• “Awh, tha-”
• This is when you felt your hand get tightly enveloped by another.
• Saeran was jealous.
• And unafraid to show it.
• “Looks like I’m interrupting a little date~ see you on he messenger, later! Have fun you two!”
• When Zen leaves, Saeran still doesn’t let your hand go.
• “You know..this is actually kind of..nice..” He awkward says.
• cuE HEART E X P L O S I O N
• ERROR (Y/N)
• YOU DID IT.
• From here on, he starts becoming more and more physically affectionate~ thank you, Zen!

Marichat ‘Cliche’ Balcony Make Out Scene

Take One: Romeo and Juliette

Here it is, special dedication for that anon who specifically hates cliche marichat balcony scenes. I wrote one at least. 

Tagging @baneismydragon who apparently has a throne of Marichat cliches like wow I’m jealous. And it is also for everybody who was super sweet with me yesterday, thank you guys, I love you all <3

Side note: Juliette is the French version of Juliet so no, it isn’t a typo.



Marinette paced from one end of her balcony to the other, while glaring at the papers in her hands. It was well past midnight and she could be seeping just like Tikki was doing at the moment, in her comfortable bed. But no, she was out, repeating the lines for the stupid play. Why did she let Alya convince her she should be in it. Ah, screw that, why did she let Alya convince her she should try for Juliette’s part out of all things. Why was the school doing a Romeo and Juliette anyway? Did they run out of French plays? And even if they had to do it, couldn’t they do the modern version? Which didn’t require excentric old words no one used anymore?

Marinette groaned exasperatedly, before trying another line. Trying to sound sad she recited.

“The only man I love is the son of the only man I hate! I saw him too early without knowing who he was, and I found out who he was too late! Love is a monster for making me fall in love with my worst enemy.”

Marinette let her shoulders drop. That sounded lame even to her ears. Honestly, how was she supposed to make that sound sincere? She was a bad actress, she knew it. The only way she could pull off that line was if Adrien’s father was Hawkmoth or something. Which was ridiculous, of course. Honestly, she should just give up on this, Alya would get over it.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliette is the sun.”

Marinette turned around, startled to see Chat Noir on the chimney. With all the feline grace he possessed, he jumped on the lower one. Marinette was wonderstruck when she noticed his look. He seemed to be really into it.

“Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. Be not her maid since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, and none but fools do wear it. Cast it off!” Marinette watched flabbergasted as Chat tip toped on the side, careful to not kick her plants while gesticulating wildly, emotion raw in his voice. Extending his hand towards her, he continued. “It is my lady. Oh, it is my love.”

Marinette almost yelled in panic as Chat Noir let himself fall over the edge, but stopped just in time when she heard his voice continuing with the lines. Her eyes trailed across the railing of the balcony as she followed the sound of his voice. And just then Chat appeared again over the railing.

“As daylight doth a lamp. Her eye in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing and think it were not night.” Marinette stood frozen in amazement as Chat stepped towards her. She was captivated and she wouldn’t even bother lying. It was impressive. Not only the fact that her dear partner knew the whole damn monolog of Romeo, but also the way he recited it. It truly made her feel like she was watching one of the most skilled actors putting on a show just for her.

“See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand.” Marinette looked up in surprise as Chat leaned towards her, his next words being whispered. “ That I might touch that cheek.”  one gloved finger caressed her cheek gently.

“Oh, my.” Marinette wasn’t even sure if it was her gasping that out loud. Chat got awfully close, but she didn’t mind it, not quite. Marinette realized, she didn’t quite appreciate how nice Chat’s eyes were, even with the cat-like look, they were complementing beautifully his blond hair. She leaned in without really realizing. Not until she captured his lips.

Chat melted against her. It was so much better than that kiss on Valentine’s Day. It was no rush to break a curse or run to detransform. And she could appreciate so much better the softness of his lips and the faint taste of mint. Chat wrapped one arm around her waist bringing her closer. Marinette sighed against his lips. She felt warm and it was such a simply pleasant sensation, their lips against each other.

Marinette let out a grunt of annoyance once they broke apart. It took them a couple of seconds to stare at each other before they jumped away. It finally seemed to drown on them what they had done.

“I um…er….”

“I got a little… um.”

“And you were…”

“And you just…’

They both rubbed their necks awkwardly, while glancing at each other. Marinette decided she won’t let the awkwardness ruin this night which just took a wonderful turn.

“Do you… do you want to stay for milk and cookies?” she glanced at Chat, waiting for his response.

He smiled shyly, a little blush appearing on his cheeks. “I’d love to.”

De-Lovely

Author: @kpopfanfictrash , as part of Bangtan University - a series of ongoing one shots with @eradikeats-writes 

Creative Content Contributors: @daegusoftboys , for her wonderful and amazing moodboard

Pairing: Reader / Taehyung 

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex, dirty talk, slight degradation)

Word Count: 11,630

Summary:  We’re all running from something. Whether it’s a painful past, uncertain future or murky present. One of my favorite things about theatre, is that for an hour, maybe two – you can escape. You don’t have to be yourself, if you don’t want to. Better yet, you can find yourself in someone else.

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Knuckles : Boxer!Ashton One Shot

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight

[Following anyone/everyone who leaves some form of thoughtful feedback x]

- Knuckles Playlist


Talk about a third date. 

If it were any other boy you’d probably be out at a restaurant or something on a night like this, flirting nervously across the dinner table while you try to decipher if he likes you enough to take your relationship to the next level. You’ve gone through the dating routine once or twice before, and had a pretty good idea of what to expect; if someone had told you a month ago you’d be standing right outside of a boxing ring while your date and another shirtless man beat each other to a pulp, you would’ve thought they were crazy. 

The crowd around you gasps and your own stomach lurches, empathetically feeling the punch that Ashton just took to the cheek. Blood is already dripping down his face, the source of it located just over his left eyebrow. He looks like a mess yet he’s still on his feet somehow, determined to keep retaliating, apparently even if it kills him. 

“Don’t worry,” Calum says next to you after noticing your concerned expression, “I’ve seen him win in worse conditions." 

You want to smile, appreciative of his effort to ease your mind, but every couple of seconds Ashton keeps getting hit, hard. It doesn’t matter to you whether he wins or loses, you just hope that your fourth date won’t have to take place beside a hospital bed. 

"Is it almost over?” you ask Calum, too new to this sport to know the ins and outs of the rule book. 

“One more round after th–Oh!

You missed what happened, but look back at the ring to find the opponent, a man named Donovan Diaz, struggling to stand up. Given the cheers from the audience, it sounds like most of the people here have their money on Ashton, and he just brought them one step closer to profiting. 

The round concludes and the fighters return to their separate corners, two teams quickly making their way into the ring to begin fixing up their boys. You wish you were allowed up there, yearning just to talk to Ashton, to treat him gently after witnessing the beating he’s taken for the last half an hour. Sitting on the short stool between rounds is the closest he’s been to you all night, each break like a minute-long tease that only makes you want to be near him more. You haven’t even said hi to him yet, not given the chance to do so before the match started. 

He knows you’re here, though. He spotted you next to his friend Calum after walking away from the first round, and lost focus for a brief second to give you a smile and a flirty wink. Some crowd members noticed, chiming in with playful remarks and whistles, causing your cheeks to burn bashfully. Ashton seemed so confident and well put together then, but that spark isn’t as evident now that he can barely keep his swollen eyes open while his crew tidies up his blood-splattered face. 

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pandalandalopalis  asked:

ANGSTY CHALLENGE ACCEPTED: The reader is best friends with Peter Parker (and they're in love with him, but he doesn't know), but she doesn't know that he's Spider-Man. One day, the reader is caught in the damage of some kind of villain, and they get severely hurt (something bad enough that it's basically fatal). Spider-Man is there trying to keep her from bleeding out, and the reader is like "Please don't let me die, I haven't told my best friend I'm in love with him" and angst ensues

A strangled scream burst from your lips as you were thrown through the air, tossed aside as if you weighed no more than a rag doll. All the air was knocked from your lungs as you collided with a parked car, before falling to the ground.

Your ribs felt as though they were shrinking in around your organs; your vision was flickering and blurry; blood was pouring from a wound somewhere on your stomach. You squinted your eyes as you lay in agony, and managed to make out an unclear image of the enormous robotic creature which had just sent an entire street into chaos.

You breathed in sharply as a familiar red-and-blue figure soared overhead, however instead of attacking the villain, Spiderman landed clumsily and sprinted to your side.

“Oh God, (Y/N), I’m so sorry,” he murmured repeatedly, his hands hovering over the wound in your stomach. You were in too much pain to wonder how he knew your name.

“You need to…help the people,” you managed to whisper hoarsely, tears welling in your eyes. “They’ll d-die.”

Spiderman shook his head rapidly, taking one of your hands in both of his gloved ones. You frowned; there was something familiar about the hands, something which reminded you of-

“Peter,” you wheezed. The superhero’s head jerked in your direction, and his whole body became tense.

“What did you say?” he asked, his voice rising in pitch. You narrowed your eyes to try and see him.

“Tell my f-friend, Peter….Parker, tell him I love h-him?” you requested, tears flowing down your cheeks and mingling with the blood.

Spiderman looked over his shoulder briefly, before doing the last thing you expected; he tugged his famous mask off of his face to reveal-

“Peter?” you whispered in confusion, trying to reach up and touch his face. He grabbed your hand and pressed it against his cheek, trying to smile reassuringly at you even as your blood smeared against his face.

“I’m here, (Nickname), don’t worry,” he told you. “You’re going to be okay, I promise. Oh god, I’m so sorry, this is all my-”

“I love you,” you blurted out again, wincing as you accidentally put pressure on your undoubtedly broken ribs. It was getting harder to breathe now.

Peter let out a heartbreaking sound which was somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“I love you too, I love you so much,” he replied desperately, leaning down to press his forehead to yours. “I’m gonna get you out of here, hang on.”

He tried to lift you and you screamed in pain, your ribs turning to daggers within you. Your head fell against his chest, and he cradled you carefully, as if you were the most fragile creature in the world.

“Keep your eyes open,” he begged, stroking your hair, which was now matted with blood. “Please, (Y/N), don’t make me lose you too.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, struggling for breath now. “I love-”

(I HAVE NO REGRETS, YOU ASKED FOR ANGST AND YOU BLOODY GOT IT)

Somebody give me Mamadoriya meeting Endeavor and being all nice and stuff until he casually refers to shouto in a demeaning way.

The gloves are off. No one in recent history has seen an utter smack down of this magnitude. Inko has not stopped lecturing Endeavor for a solid hour. The children have brought lawn chairs and popcorn. Todoroki is videotaping as Izuku cheers his mom on.

“Keith…”  Lance reaches across the couch they’re sitting on and holds his friend’s bare hand.  “Buddy, no.  You’ve got control.  You just showed me that.  What you don’t have is confidence in that control..”  He pauses and gets an idea.

     Lance smiles and pulls his hands back, cupping them similarly to how Keith had held his hands before.  He focuses and builds up an intricate sculpture of ice in the shape of a heart.  Once it’s made, Lance meets Keith’s confused look with a grin.  “Take your glove off.  Yes, don’t give me that look.  I know what I said.  Look.  This is really, really delicate and thin ice.  I made it that way on purpose.  I want you to hold it without melting it.”

     “Lance, I can’t do that,” Keith says, his gloves held in one hand.  He’d been following Lance’s instructions but now he looks like he’s going to argue.

     Lance doesn’t give him the chance.  He puts the sculpture in Keith’s open palms and watches as it sits there.

-Excerpt from Pyro- and Cryokinesis

More Skyhigh AU !! (by @ming-chan )

This time it’s fanart for a scene in this lovely fanfic by @klance-and-a-half 

It’s very very cute, only one chapter long, so go and read it!

Do not repost without permission

anonymous asked:

I know your crazy busy with life and use your writing time for drive and winter song but... Could you write a smol sick fic? Nothing long or extravagant! It would be a blessing.

Summary: Yuuri falls ill during a practice at the Ice Castle. Pre-Episode 5.

***

When Victor excused himself from practice to take a quick phone call, Yuuri was fine. Perhaps a little quieter than normal while he rehearsed a combination spin out on the Ice Castle rink, one gloved hand extended gracefully overhead, but there was no indication that anything was wrong.

He was fine.

How that changed so quickly was anyone’s guess.

Victor was gone for less than five minutes, and when he returned, Yuuri was on his knees in the center of the rink with his head in his hands. Victor took one look and started running, even before he fully registered what he was seeing. He wasn’t wearing his skates for practice today, but that didn’t stop him from running out onto the ice and slipping and sliding for the first few steps before he regained his balance.

“Yuuri.” Victor came to a clumsy stop in front of him, and when he dropped to his knees, the ice soaked through the fabric of his pants. He grasped Yuuri’s shoulder and said, “What happened. Did you fall?”

Yuuri was shaking. His face was so pale that even his lips had lost their color, and he kept squeezing his eyes shut and reopening them as if to clear his vision. “Dizzy,” he said.

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  • Isaac: What the hell is that?!
  • Derek confused, looking down at his bags: I went to the farmer’s market....
  • Erica, smirking: I don’t think we can all eat that.
  • Derek: ...
  • Boyd: You weren’t supposed to bring back the farmer.
  • Stiles, looking at his plaid shirt, pointing at the pack while walking away: I’m putting you all up for adoption!
  • Lord Petyr was seated on his window seat, languid and elegant in a plush plum-colored doublet and a yellow satin cape, one gloved hand resting on his knee. “The king is fighting hares with a crossbow,” he said. “The hares are winning. Come see.”
  • “I am a knight,” he told them. He opened the silver fastenings of his breastplate and let that fall as well. “I shall die a knight.”“A naked knight, it would seem,” quipped Littlefinger.
  • Littlefinger came calling an hour after the Grand Maester had left, clad in a plum-colored doublet with a mockingbird embroidered on the breast in black thread, and a striped cloak of black and white. “I cannot visit long, my lord,” he announced. “Lady Tanda expects me to lunch with her. No doubt she will roast me a fatted calf. If it’s near as fatted as her daughter, I’m like to rupture and die.”
  • As Ned looked to him, Lord Petyr stifled a yawn. "When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it,” he declared. “Waiting won’t make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it.”
  • “Chataya runs a choice establishment,” Littlefinger said as they rode. “I’ve half a mind to buy it. Brothels are a much sounder investment than ships, I’ve found. Whores seldom sink, and when they are boarded by pirates, why, the pirates pay good coin like everyone else." 
  • Varys made a tsking sound. "Sweet Petyr, surely you do not mean to suggest that these puissant lords and noble knights could be bought like so many chickens in the market.”“Have you been to our markets of late, Lord Varys?” asked Littlefinger. “You’d find it easier to buy a lord than a chicken.”
  • Petyr Baelish gave a shrug. "Tides and brides wait on no man, my lord. Once the autumn storms begin the voyage will be much more hazardous. Drowning would definitely diminish my charms as a bridegroom.”
  • Grand Maester Pycelle gaped at him, aghast. “Surely you do not mean to suggest that Lady Selyse would bring a fool into her bed?”“You’d have to be a fool to want to bed Selyse Florent,” said Littlefinger. 
  • There was a hermit’s cave on his land as well, but no hermit. “He’s dead now, but when I was a boy my father took me to see him. The man had not washed in forty years, so you can imagine how he smelled, but supposedly he had the gift of prophecy. He groped me a bit and said I would be a great man, and for that my father gave him a skin of wine.” Petyr snorted. “I would have told him the same thing for half a cup.”
  • “Perhaps I could bed you now, and wed you later?”The Lady Lysa giggled like a girl. “Oh, Petyr Baelish, you are so wicked. No, I say no, I am the Lady of the Eyrie, and I command you to wed me this very moment!”
  • “That will give it strength enough to stand, I’d think,” Petyr said. “May I come into your castle, my lady?” Sansa was wary. “Don’t break it. Be …”“… gentle?” He smiled.
  • “We did not come for your signature. Nor do we mean to bandy words with you, Littlefinger.”“What a pity. I do so love a nicely bandied word.”
  • Cersei smiled the sort of smile she customarily reserved for Jaime. “Lord Petyr, you are a wicked creature.”“Thank you, Your Grace." 

-Petyr Baelish being a smartass

threat // peter parker

request from @fragilefrances: Reader keeps getting threats and she keeps it to herself and when she disappears, Peter finds the threats and tries to find her before its too late

word count: 3.3k

a/n: hey guys! this my first time writing a request, so i hope you guys enjoy! i realize i didn’t do exactly what the request said, but i hope it’s still ok (sorry!!). unedited! this will get a part 2 soon! and starting next monday, i begin high school! it should be okay for the first few weeks, but i might get a lil busy so i hope y'all understand! i’ll still write as much as possible <3 and hope you guys enjoy this! warning for threatening and kidnapping themes. <3333

masterlist

___________________________

“So I thought about telling her that, y’know, I was kind of in an awkward situation there. But how are you supposed to do that with all these people around?”

“Mhm.”

“And then she had this idea, right, and I was like, ‘What are you doing?’ and she was getting this empty bottle and she said she wanted to play Spin the Bottle!”

“Uh huh.”

“She knows that I have strict boundaries with that stuff, and she still…” You trail off into silence for a few seconds. “Okay, Pete, I know you don’t care, but give me something to work with here.” You wait for a response, and then check to see if Peter is still on the other end of the line. “Hello?”

“Wait, what did you say?” You sigh audibly at this. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I was…zoned out.”

“It’s okay.” There’s a short pause.

“So what were you telling me?”

“Uh, it’s nothing important. Speaking of which, I’m getting a little tired. I’d better get going.”

“It’s not even eight, how are you tired already?” He sounds confused.

“I stayed up last night. I’ll see you.”

“Uh, okay then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You hang up the phone call, feeling discomfort poke at you. Peter’s as close to a best friend you’ll ever have. You know him like the back of your hand. But recently he’s been a little weird around you. He’s always off in his own little world, thinking about something else. It was okay the first few times, but now you hardly have conversations with him anymore. You’re just worried if he’s okay sometimes.

Is this just a thing that happens when people grow apart? You gaze out of your tiny window into the not-so-tiny world. The sun is drowning in the horizon, the fiery orange and red tones fading away into pink, and then into periwinkle blue. The city is noisy, but in this transition between day and night, everything looks beautiful.

You think about talking to Peter. But where would you even begin? How do people have supportive conversations? You’re not very good at being helpful in this kind of situation. You move away from your window and flop onto your bed. You dig around your sheets for a minute before finding your phone. You Google ‘Why is my best friend being distant?’ and scroll through a few pages. If anything, this just depresses you more, so you decide to stop.

You’re about to close your phone when it dings with a text. Is it Peter with another half-assed apology? It seems you’ve been spared from that tonight. You scroll through your conversations, but you don’t see any new texts. You frown when you see an old text. Whoops, you forgot to text a classmate back about a quiz. The quiz that happened today. Yikes.

Well, you’re sure it’s okay. You set your phone aside to do homework. But as soon as you lift your pencil, your phone starts ringing. Without looking at who it is, you pick up, voice firm. “Peter, I’m sleeping. Bye.”

You pause, and then look at who’s really calling you. Whoever it was turned off their caller ID. Uh…weird. Is this a prank call? “Um…hello?” You say cautiously.

The silence hangs for what feels like an eternity. Unsettled, you hang up. You have a notification for a text. You open it.

Unknown: There’s a package waiting for you on your doorstep. Get it within fifteen minutes.

You frown. Is this one of your friends trying to play some sick practical joke on you? “Yeah? Or what?” You mutter to yourself, scoffing.

Unknown: [image attached] Or else something might just happen to him.

Your eyes widen when you look at the picture. It’s Peter, sitting in his bedroom. But…he’s, like, attached to the ceiling. He’s hanging upside down and reading a book. No, this must be digitally edited or something. That’s when you see two things. The digital clock, which reads the time right now: 8:37 PM. And a very familiar looking suit on the floor. The Spider-Man suit. You’ve never been more confused.

You feel a tight knot in your chest. How does this person know who Peter is? How do they know you? Who are they? How do they know that you know Peter? They’re not going to hurt him, are they? Why does Peter have that suit? Christ, is he the Spider-Man that you saw in a YouTube video a few days ago?

You look at your clock. Nearly five minutes have passed already. You don’t want to find out what they’ll do to Peter if you don’t comply, so you quickly stand up and fumble to unlock your door. You race downstairs and past a pair of worried looking mothers.

“Honey, is everything -” You cut one of them off as you step out of the apartment. Sure enough, there’s a small box sitting there. You scoop it up and dash back upstairs with it. You swallow, breathing heavily as you grab your phone. Another message pops up.

Unknown: Good girl. Give it to the hooded boy waiting in the alley by your building at 7:50 AM tomorrow. Don’t talk to him.

You try keep yourself together and think. Do you dare send a message?

You: who are you and how do you know me?

You: how do you know him?

No response. You didn’t really expect one, anyway.

You: you can do anything you want with me. just don’t touch him. please.

You don’t expect a response to that, either, but then, a message pops up.

Unknown: Follow your instructions without hesitation and he will go unharmed.

You set your phone down as you try to process everything. The first thing you do is cry, sobbing uncontrollably while you clutch a pillow to your chest. What do you even do? You want to call Peter, but you’re scared of what might happen. Whoever this is knows how dear he is to your heart. What do they know and what don’t they know? Is anything even private anymore?

You think about every memory you shared with Peter. That one time you ruined his new jeans by throwing a cupcake at him. Or when you sat on the floor and debated over Star Wars fan theories for a whole day. Or the countless nights you stayed up with him on Skype, talking endlessly. Or just a few months ago, when he kissed you and he thought you didn’t feel that way about him even though you did.

He’s not just the friend that went through thick and thin with you. You love him, goddammit. And now you don’t know what to do because you can’t imagine being in a world without him. You can’t even imagine him ever being hurt. At any other point in your life, the possibility that he might be Spider-Man would freak you out more than anything. But right now, you don’t care about any of it. You’re pretty sure that even Spider-Man can’t dodge a bullet when he least expects it.

You try to make yourself feel better about it all. So what, you move around a few packages and then they leave you alone. And then you can carry on with your life and have everything be okay. No biggie.

Still, a dark feeling disturbs you.

Having completely forgotten about your homework, you lay on your bed to sleep. You’re too frightened to sleep with the lights off, so you leave them on as you drift into an uncomfortable slumber. You toss and turn all night, racked with paranoia and fear. You hardly get any sleep. For the longest time, you stare at the ceiling. You just want Peter to be safe. You just want to protect him. The idea of protecting Spider-Man feels silly, but the picture ‘Unknown’ sent you lingers in your head. He’s still a kid, like you. He still has vulnerabilities.

You jolt when your alarm clock goes off, scaring you. You quickly switch it off. 6:30 AM. If you have to give the package to someone at 7:50, you’re going to be late for school. You guess one day won’t be too bad. You scrape your hair out of your face and put on your jeans and t-shirt from yesterday. The t-shirt says “May the force be with you” but the word “force” is replaced with the formula for force. It was a Christmas present from Peter.

At 7:30, you head outside to wait with the package in hand. It’s chillier than you expected, but you manage to stand there for twenty minutes. Goosebumps lines your exposed arms as you look around for the recipient. You realize that you didn’t even stop to think about what was in the box. You were so busy worrying about Peter that you forgot about it. What if you’re carrying meth or crack cocaine or something? What if you’re helping some illegal activity happen?

Just as you start freaking out over it, a hooded figure enters the alley. You’ve never seen the guy before, but he looks young. He can’t be older than seventeen. He stares at you expectantly. You open your mouth to say something but quickly shut it when you remember that you’re not supposed to say anything. You quickly hand over the box. To your surprise, he starts opening it. You watch, lips parted.

You expect him to take out something suspicious-looking, but instead he reveals a knife wrapped in cloth. He unwinds the cloth, and before you can even scream, the boy pins you to the wall. One gloved hand presses tightly over your mouth as you try and yell out. He presses the knife to your throat and you reflexively tilt your head back to try and create some space between your neck and the knife.

Oh god, this is it. This is the end. You think about how you should’ve been a little nicer to your moms, and how you should’ve apologized to a few people. You should’ve told Peter you loved him. And maybe kissed him again. His image flashes in your head. His warm, dark eyes that crinkle when he smiles at you. His soft lips against yours, hungry for something you’ve both wanted for an eternity. The way his dark brown hair flops onto his forehead and escapes the gel when he’s leaning over to work on a project. The look on his face right before he’s about to make a dumb joke that you’ll laugh at anyway. It’s all too sweet to let go of so quickly, but if it means saving him, you’ll do it without hesitation.

And then, as though the guy was having second thoughts, he steps back. He almost looks apologetic, but it might just be the lighting. Your heart’s still pounding out of fear as you fumble for your phone. What the hell?

Unknown: Wait until further instruction.

You look back up to yell at the boy, but he’s vanished. You glance into the darkening alley, and then out towards the street. Great, you don’t want your life threatened again anyway. You check the time. It’s nearly 8:10, and you’re already missing first period. You race out to go to school.

In second period English, Peter side eyes you the whole time, like he normally does. You normally do the same, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to look at him today. Your phone is on your lap in case you get a text.

Is he really Spider-Man? You tune out the entire class, until the teacher walks up to you. “Y/N, are you alright?” You jolt slightly in surprise when you see her.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” you say quickly, tripping over your words.

“You didn’t seem to hear me for the past five minutes. Where’s your homework?” You’re acutely aware that the whole class is staring at you, including Peter. Your cheeks redden in embarrassment when you realize you didn’t do it last night. What are you supposed to say?

“U-Uh, I left it at, um, home.” Your voice is quiet as you look down, your face burning up. Everyone’s going to think you’re stupid and you don’t take school seriously. They’re going to think that instead of doing my homework last night, you were at Flash’s party getting drunk, and that’s why you’re being weird now. Ha. As if you’d even get invited.

You spend the rest of class being extremely embarrassed as you try and participate more. At the end of class, Peter walks up to you. Dejected, you try and walk past him, but he blocks your path.  You step around him, but he’s too quick. He grabs you by the arms this time, but then lets go when you show obvious discomfort. You walk out of the classroom, Peter right beside you. “What’s up with you?” He asks.

“Nothing,” you murmur, slightly annoyed.

“Oh, so you mean nothing as in totally ignoring me, having bags under your eyes, and not doing your homework for once in a blue moon. You look like you saw a ghost, you’re scared out of your damn mind. So don’t give me this bullshit about nothing being wrong, Y/N.” Is he mad at you? Suddenly, it seems silly to think he was the same person you fell in love with months ago. He seems completely different. The Peter you know wouldn’t get mad at you. His expression softens when he sees yours. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you know what, Parker, what’s wrong with you?”

By now, the halls are nearly clear except for those skipping. “What are you talking about?” Peter asks, confused. He looks kind of upset, because he knows you’re serious when you call him by his last name.

“You know what I’m talking about. You hardly talk to me, and you’re never paying attention when you do. If you don’t fricking like being around me, then tell me and I’ll leave you the hell alone! I thought we were best friends, and I thought that meant you could tell me anything. But whenever I ask, you say it’s nothing and I’ve been trying so hard to believe it. Because I trust you to tell me the truth when you think it’s time. But then the moment I start acting weird too, you just have to push it. Maybe I have my own secrets too. Did you ever think about that too? Maybe I put on a suit and I leap around kicking ass, too.” You spread your arms out, the angry look on your face quickly breaking apart. Peter’s eyes are wide as he stares, in complete shock. You can’t bring yourself to say anything else. You wipe the tears that start spilling from your eyes.

Peter tries to pull you into a hug, but you shove him away as hard as you can. Spider-Man can take a push, can’t he? But he winces anyway, simply watching as you walk away. You check your phone, and your heart pangs in your chest at the message.

Unknown: Don’t speak to him again.

You’ve never felt more alone, but at the same time, you can never truly be alone. You can’t even talk to Peter anymore, isolating you from the one person that matters most to you. But now you’re sure they’re watching you somehow. They’re watching your every footstep, they’re listening to your every word.

You instantly feel bad for yelling at Peter, as you always do whenever you get upset at him. You just can’t control your emotions around him anymore. For some reason, this all makes you want to protect him more.

God, you hate everything. You hate Peter for what he does but love him for who he is, which is a confusing thing all on its own. And he’s Spider-Man. And you’re doing scary ass things under the promise of his safety.

Your fingers brush against your throat. There isn’t a cut there or anything. Huh, maybe the knife just wasn’t that sharp.

Your phone pings with instructions to retrieve a box. For the next few hours, you’re forced to skip school as you obediently follow seemingly random orders. Thankfully, you don’t get any more knives shoved to your throat again. You just move things around, and you don’t even have to deliver things to anyone.

Over the course of the day, you start to calm down a little. It’s only now that you begin to question the person’s motive of threatening you with Peter. Do they want something from you? Or something from Peter? Peter is more likely, with him being Spider-Man and all. But all Spider-Man does is stop robbers and help old ladies out. He just doesn’t seem like a person worth targeting for the reason that he might be a threat to criminals.

You’ve had missed calls from him all day. He must be wondering where you went, but every time you even get the urge to call back, you remember the harsh warning you were given to not talk to him. He sent you tons of texts, too.

Peter: where are you???

Peter: y/n please!! i’m worried about you, just tell me you’re safe and i’ll stop.

Peter: i know you’re mad and you don’t care, but i really care. just tell me if you’re home or something. i won’t come visit you if you don’t want me to. i just need to know if you’re in a safe place. that’s it.

Messages like this continue on until a few scrolls. Finally, they come to a stop and then Ned texts you.

Ned: Hey Y/N Peter looks like he’s going to have a panic attack

Ned: It’s really bad and he won’t listen to me

Ned: Just tell him you’re okay so he’ll stop freaking out

Ned: Dude you realize he’ll put on his suit and try and find you if you don’t respond soon right

You take a deep breath and look away, pained inside. You don’t want to think about Peter getting anxiety over you. At least he’s alive. And when all of this is over, you can tell him everything and he’ll understand. Because he’d do the same for you. That’s just the kind of people you and Peter are. Your thoughts are cut off when you see you got a message from ‘Unknown’.

Unknown: Go back to the alleyway by your apartment and wait.

Unknown: This is the last message you will receive.

Something about this feels weird to you. Wait for what? This is a vague message, which is unusual considered the pattern of very specific messages. Nonetheless, you begin making your way home. Your phone keeps buzzing with messages, probably from Ned. You keep yourself going with only one thought in mind. It’s almost over. Just one more thing to do, and then it’s all over. You just hope Peter will be okay.

You finally get to the alleyway as the sun moves downward. It won’t be sunset for a few hours, unfortunately, but it’s not like you would be able to see it from down here anyway. You’re nervous, and there’s a very odd feeling in your gut. It’s giving you a very clear message. RUN. You ignore it, looking over your shoulder to see if anyone’s coming. No one.

You wait there for a while, realizing how exhausted you are from running around the city all day. You probably have so much homework to catch up on, and you owe an explanation for not showing up to most of your classes. Your phone buzzes again, and you finally look at it.

Mom: Honey, why did your mother and I get an email saying that you didn’t go to any of your classes other than English today?

Mom: You know that you can talk to us about anything. You can tell us the truth.

Shit. You are so screwed when you go home. You quickly start thinking of excuses, because you obviously can’t tell them the truth in this situation. As you worry over this, you don’t notice that someone is behind you.

Suddenly, you feel metal clang against your skull, and you’re gone. You drop the ground instantaneously, unconscious.

__________________________

tag list:

@thelifeofanengineeringstudent

@deans-angel-of-thursdays

@half-superhero

Dear Evan Hansen QnA
  • Does anybody have a map: What hopes do you have for the future?
  • Waving through a window: When do you feel most alone?
  • For forever: What would be- in your opinion -the perfect day?
  • Sincerely me: Write a letter to someone you wish you were friends with.
  • Requiem: What's something you want to remember, and something you wish you could forget?
  • If I could tell her: Write something you wish you could tell someone but probably never will without any context.
  • Disappear: Have you ever wanted to be invisible and why?
  • You will be found: The most uplifting thing someone has ever done for/to you?
  • To break in a glove: Name one thing you never opened/used
  • Only us: Is it better to tune out the world or work with it?
  • Good for you: When did you feel the most guilty and why?
  • Words fail: Whats something you wish you hadn't done?
  • So big/so small: Name your favorite bonding moment with one/both of your parents.
  • Finale: Name a turning point in your life.
  • [BOUNUS]:
  • The most amazing trees: What's your favorite tree?
  • You scribble stars on the cuffs of your jeans: Name something you do when you're bored.
  • Tap tap tapping on the glass: Name one way you would try to get someones attention.
  • So you got what you always wanted: Name something you wanted badly but once you got it you wished you hadn't worked so hard for it.
  • All we see is sky, for forever: Whats something that makes you smile every time you see it?
Hold still... Did you just hiss at me?

Request: #22, #81, and #19 pleaseeee 😂 I trust that you’ll get creative with this one

Summary: hold still/did you just hiss at me?/you’re Satan. Peter visits you one evening as promised but he arrives late in his Spider-man suit.

Originally posted by hot-as-f

You sighed and stood up from your position on the couch and began making your way to your room. Your eyes trailed the ground in front of your feet as you opened the bleached door to your customized room. 

“Oh hey y/n,” Your gaze shot up as you jumped at the voice coming from the red and blue clad boy that sat on the floor beside your bed, his back resting against it. He greeted you tiredly, and leaned his head back on your soft mattress that was covered in soft floral sheets. His left arm slung over his abdomen, rising up and down with his panting. The spider-man mask laid on the floor next to him. Two cuts were visible on his face and a purple bruise was slowly showing itself underneath his right eye. His hair disheveled over his forehead, he tried blowing it out of his eye but only more fell back in place, “You should see the other guy,” he uttered to you. 

Your heart broke a little at the beaten boy placed in your room. It wasn’t unusual for him to show up in your room at various hours through a day. But seeing him look so shattered wasn’t something you were going to get used to any time soon. “Come on bug-boy,” you called to him softly, reaching your hand out waiting for him to take it, as you stood over his body. 

He let out a breathy laugh at your nickname for him and gladly took your hand in his glove covered one. 

The two of you trailed into the main bathroom of your apartment where the first aid kit and rubbing alcohol was stored. 

Peter hoisted himself onto counter and reclined his head onto the mirror behind him while he waited for you to take care of him. The first time he got seriously injured during one of his crime fighting incidents, he panicked. The first person he thought of was you, so to you he went. It was the best idea he had thought of. You were surprisingly more calm than he thought you’d be. He was nearly hyperventilating when he came to you, so you had tried your hardest to remain calm for his sake.

Peter watched you silently take out the bottle of rubbing alcohol and soak a rag with it. He curled his nose as you began bringing it up to the cut across his cheek bone. He hated the sting that accompanied the necessary care. Before you could wipe the substance covered cloth over his wound, he pulled away, “Peter,” you spoke in a warning tone, “we’ve done this 50 times, you know the routine,”

Peter sighed in response, “Yeah but, the routine hurts,”

“And getting your injuries doesn’t?” 

He shot you a gentle glare, and didn’t protest as you brought the cloth back up to his cheek. He muttered a few ‘ow’s as you ran it over both cuts. He sighed in relief as you finished, and resumed his position from earlier and leaned back. Upon his actions, you noticed and slash along his collarbone. Blood had stained the material surrounding it, but it didn’t seem to phase Peter.

You gasped at the size of it, surely Peter would have to go in for stitches. Your sudden change in attitude startled Peter, “What?” he asked frantically.

“Take your suit off,” you told him,

“Why? What?” he questioned you again. His gaze followed yours and he looked down to see the fairly sized cut below his collarbone. His eyes widened at the sight, “Oh. Well that’s new,” he squeaked.

“Take your suit off while I get ice for your eye,” You stated to him as you began to make your way to the kitchen, “What, you don’t wanna stay and watch the show?” he called after you.

You returned with a bag of ice, to see that he had followed your instructions and was now standing in nothing but a pair of boxers. You reluctantly kept your eyes on his brown ones, and handed him the cold plastic bag, “You know you wanna look,” he smirked down at you.

“Shut up and sit,” you chuckled at him, shaking your head. He sighed and sat back on the counter. 

“This is going to hurt more than the last ones,” you informed him. His face dropped and he began to whine, “Don’t tell me that,” he pouted.

“As if you didn’t know already,” You said, soaking more rubbing alcohol on the spots that weren’t yet used on the rag, “you shouldn’t even be here, you should be in hospital getting it stitched up,” 

“I can’t jus-” you cut him off quickly by unexpectedly placing the rag on his collarbone. You knew he’d hate you for it, but if you gave him any warning, he’d only make it worse. He shouted an ‘ow’ and bit his lip trying to hold back multiple colorful words. He pulled back and hovered his hand over the wound protectively, “That was just evil! That was- you are- you’re Satan!” He exclaimed.

You bit your own lip in an effort to hold back your giggles, “Hold still Peter! It needs to be cleaned,” you stated in laughter.

“This is not funny. This is abuse, I’m gonna have to-” again you cut off his rambling and pressed the cloth back to his chest. This time you pulled away abruptly at a hissing sound. You stared at Peter puzzled, “Did you just hiss at me?” you asked him, taken aback.

There was a moment of awkward silence between you two. He stared at you as he searched his mind for an excuse of any sort but all he came up with was: “No,”

You raised an eyebrow at him and laughed at his ridiculousness, “Stop laughing, this hurts,” he pouted. 

You sighed and brought body closer to his, and placed yourself between his legs. Peter placed his forehead on yours, and fluttered his eyes closed. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “but it has to be done,”

“I know,” he agreed softly.

You tilted your head and pressed your lips to his in a tender kiss, which he gladly returned. Subtly, you brought the cloth up to his collar bone. He broke away from the kiss, because of the unexpected stinging. You pulled away, and he sighed. His gaze shifted down to you and glared while shaking his head, “Satan,” he muttered directly to you,

“You love me though,” you spoke innocently,

“Yeah, yeah,”



Was that lame.. it seemed lame.

So uh. Keith and Hunk yeah? Y’all ever notice how they both have crop top jackets with popped up collars. Huh.

And wow ah look at that….they also both have fingerless gloves and not one, but TWO fanny packs on their hips. Interesting.

And wow, look at here, their shoes have some uh…very similar designs. A lot of white with that black running down the front middle. Very nice.

Now, I’m not saying this means much but…. I am saying they have similar tastes when it comes to fashion. Interesting…. yeah?