though i think no one should ever lick a library book

Dirty, Pretty Things

Hey guys! I hope that everyone is having a supremely good day today! I’m sorta shy to post this because I’ve never written a sexy-time before, but I gave it a go lol. Basically, Tom and the reader go to the library and Tom gets a little frustrated by the book the reader picks out for him, and then, sexy-time ensues. I hope you like it!

Dirty, Pretty Things

He had lost her within the sea of words that had engulfed them both.

When Tom had first entered the grand library, the sight of so many shelves completely drenched in knowledge blew his eyes wide open. She, on the other hand, had immersed herself, diving in and out of shelves quickly, and coming out with towering stacks of novels. Tom watched, hands in his pockets, as she piled the literature as high as it could go without falling.

Grabbing her readings, he moved them to a secluded corner, where he sat down on the floor to wait for her to come back to him.

As she fluttered about, rushing in between sections and up and down staircases, her skin gave off a soft sheen of champagne that he knew came from her ridiculously expensive highlighter. The heels of her boots tapped anxiously across the floor. Sounding as though they were afraid they’d only be granted a set amount of time to wander through the library. The straps of the dress his girlfriend wore began to slip off her shoulders and she failed to fix them to their proper place again. When she bent down, Tom noticed that her position revealed a more than generous amount of her legs. He bit his lip and tried to ignore how alluringly endearing she looked.

Tom loved to watch her like this. She looked incredibly at home nestled inside the library’s massive selection of books. She wasn’t worried about other people, or how they could be perceiving her. Instead, her only focus was on choosing the best and most interesting novel to read.

After about forty minutes, she finally came back to him, carrying four more books in her hands.

“I picked some out for you to read as well,” she said, nestling decisively underneath his arm.

Due to the spot Tom had secured, she was sat directly next to the left corner of the wall with Tom cuddled into her right side. Tom beamed at her and pressed an open mouthed kiss to her lips. “What did you get for me darling?”

“Well, firstly, I grabbed you the first Harry Potter book because I think that it’s absolute insanity that you haven’t read it yet. Then, I grabbed Horns and The Shining, in case your in the mood for horror, but, if all else fails, maybe you could try Hidden Bodies or Dirty, Pretty Things?” She began to ramble on about why she had selected each novel and then stopped short. “Oh, shit, I should go back and bring you Fight Club, I really think that-.” Tom quickly wrapped an arm around her middle, securing her back down on the floor.

“No, no, I’m excited to read Dirty, Pretty Things. That’s the poetry book you’ve been off about with Kaylee, right? I want to read that one.” Tom watched her pull the thin, pink book out of the stack to hand to him.

She looked shy handing it over to him. As soon as his hands slid over the front cover, she quickly interjected, “you may not like it, but the words are just lovely and they make me,” she stopped short and shuddered.

Tom quirked a brow, “oh yeah? Better get started then.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and rustled her hair.

Tom watched as she leaned forward and bit her lip, trying to decide what she wanted to read first. Eventually, she settled on A Tale For the Time Being and curled up against his chest.

Tom’s eyes skimmed over poem after poem, and he began to understand why she spoke so much about it, just not directly to him. The book was written about love, and carnal attraction and she was forever timorous.

The poetry in Dirty, Pretty Things was beginning to get to him, especially when he thought about her reading it. Michael Faudet’s words were dulcet and enticing, and Tom imagined whispering them softly into her ear, as he slipped his hands up her skirt.

Tom’s mind briefly wandered to her getting off on the words within the book and had to stop for a few seconds to recompose himself. He glanced down at her. The words on the page of her book seemed to leap and dance off the page, mocking him for being of more interest to her than he was. Shaking his head, he tried not to look at the uncovered, sweet smelling, perfumed, skin of her chest. Going back to his own book, he attempted to allow the book’s poetry to command his full attention once again.

The first poem Tom encountered as he flipped the page nearly killed him. He stopped breathing and read over the words three more times before letting out a shaker gasp.

The only words on the page were, “Put your hands on my knees, she said, and think of me as a book you’ve been dying to read.”

Tom looked from the poem to her, then again and again before he felt his jeans getting even tighter than they were before. This had to be a sign. Shit, they were in a library, surrounded by books, all alone in a dimly lit corner of the library. Not to mention, books and literature were her favorite things in the word. She had told him a while ago that the best compliment she’d ever received had been from slew of teachers who had all insisted that she had the best taste in books they’d seen in a long time. Michael Faudet’s words were taunting him.

“Baby,” he started, gently tilting her chin up to look at him. “I’m bored.”

She frowned, “do you not like the book because I can go and grab you another, or maybe-,” Tom cut her short by sliding a soft hand across her throats to sweep her hair off her shoulder.

“Let’s trade. You can read Dirty, Pretty Things out loud to me. I’m sleepy and I wanna listen to you read the poems.” Tom gently guided his book into her palms.

She flushed red and stuttered for a minute. “Tom, I can’t.

“Why not?” He countered.

“You’ve read it,” She muttered, looking away from him. “The words are libidinous.”

Tom brought her eyes back to his and licked his lips before he spoke. “I wanna hear you read them darling.” He moved to kiss the spot just below her lips. Tom dared lower and lower, tangling his hands in her hair as he went. When he reached her collarbones, she finally snapped.

Letting out an airy sigh, she gasped out, “fine Tom.”

He smirked and placed a final kill on the base of her throat and corrected his posture so that he was sitting with his arms protectively circling her frame.

She moved to flip to the next page when Tom interrupted her. “Do you mind reading from the beginning? I wanna hear it all in your voice.”

Narrowing her eyes, she flipped back to the first page and began to read. As she read through the first few poems, Tom’s hands began to totter.

First, he slipped them up and down her arms, feigning an effort to keep her warm. Then, he began to give her small kisses on the forehead, cheek, neck and hand. She looked at him, slightly confused as to why he’d ask her to read out loud if he wasn’t going to pay attention.

Nevertheless, she kept reading.

As she flipped the page, her breathing was cut short. Tom knew exactly which poem she’d stumbled across. “Sweetheart, do you want to play a game?” Tom asked her, his voice rough and low in her ear.

She blinked up at him, her cheeks flushed cherry red as she managed to stutter out a few syllables.

“How about I tell you the rules first?” He paused briefly, and then began to talk. “The book you’ve chosen for me has actually proven itself to be quite the naughty thing and I think that you gave it to me on purpose. Since you like to play so many little games instead of just telling me directly what you want, I think that maybe I’ll give games a go too.” Tom stopped to look at her again. Her pupils had consumed the typical color of her eyes and her hands were slightly shaking. Taking them within his own, he kissed the backs of both of her hands.

“If you’ll allow me, I’d very much like to reenact that poem. You are the book that I’ve been dying to read.”

Her eyes shut and she bit her lip to contain the moan threatening to slip past.

“Here’s the catch though, I still want you to read to me. If you stop reading out loud, I’ll stop what I’m doing and you wouldn’t want that, would you?” Tom peppered her neck with open mouthed kisses.

She nodded her head, eyes still shut tight.

“No, darling, I need verbal consent, just to be sure.” Tom continued his assault on her neck.

Her eyes finally snapped open and she rolled her head around to look directly into Tom’s eyes. “Please.” She whispered.

With that, Tom smirked and lifted the hem of her dress and slipped his hand further up her thighs.

Her voice shook, “the kind of love letter I write are the ones you read in bed, stretched out beneath the sheets with one hand between your legs.”

Tom pressed his mouth to her and she convulsed against his lips, gasping out the words to the next line.

Books Bring Us Closer

Anonymous asked: Hiya, Meg! Can I request a Loki x fem!reader? Maybe the two of them don’t get along, but they begin bonding when neither of them can sleep one night. The realize they both have a love of books and share that. Eventually they fall in love. Just something sweet and fluffy. Thank you!!

Here is your one-shot, lovely! I do not own Loki! He belongs to Marvel. 

Warnings: Fluff and it’s a little long

Pairings: Loki x fem!reader

Originally posted by maryxglz

You groaned as you turned to look at the clock. 2 am. You’d been trying to sleep for hours to no avail. Groaning once more, you threw back the covers and swung your legs out of bed. You quietly made your way out of your room and down to the kitchen. You quickly drank a glass of milk before heading to the living room. “Maybe reading would help,” you muttered. You stopped short when you saw Loki sitting there.

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Having A Field Day + A CS One Shot

A/N: Here’s a smutty little continuation of ‘Physically Fit’ and ‘Extracurricular Activities’ because as a teacher, I hate Field Day and PE Teacher!Killian seemed like a good way to cheer myself up after managing the mayhem! Happy summer, everyone!

Rated: M - this is seriously straight filth
Word Count: 3K

The texture of the wood door at her back wasn’t completely unlike the several other smooth surfaces Emma had found herself pressed up against over the course of the past few very heated months. Sure, it was a bit colder and the drag of the sanded oak against her bare shoulders was sending shivers down her spine, but it was honestly a shock that it had taken her this long to make such a sensory discovery.

How they’d avoided the dim lighting and slightly dusty space inside the school storage shed was truly something she couldn’t provide an answer for, especially because there were very few locations they’d skipped since the first time she let his firm hips push her into oblivious ecstasy.

Killian’s hands felt rugged on her sides as they slid downward, his thumbs pressing firmly on her hipbones until she moaned that sound of warning he seemed to enjoy so much. It crossed her mind briefly as he sent a trail of kisses down her neck that maybe he loved her and not just the noises she made when they found themselves in close circumstances like their current ones. It was a thought she had tested a few times before - once when he spent two hours grading essays for her after she’d fallen victim to some plague obtained from her students and then again when he’d asked her to dance with him during their repeat chaperoning duo at the winter formal. Of course, that sweet and almost tender request came right before he pulled her back into a nearby well known locker room where he really made her shiver.

Yeah, January temperatures had nothing on Killian Jones and his ability to chill every inch of her body. The scorching numbers as they currently neared the end of May, on the other hand, seemed to have them both in quite the unprofessional bind.

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Originally posted by thejabberwock

Summary: Dean x Reader: The reader finds out she’s pregnant and goes to break the news to her boyfriend, Dean. 

Word Count: 1624

Triggers: None really, a bit of worrying at most.

Y/N = Your name Y/H/C = Your hair colour 


Shit, you stopped your shaking hands from reaching out to the empty box on the counter one more time. Knowing that the text wouldn’t just miraculously change just because you looked at it again. Two lines meant the test was positive, that hadn’t just somehow changed in the half minute since you last checked..

Two little lines… Those blue lines meant you were pregnant. Fuck! You’d been so careful. Yet, those two damned lines were still there, staring back up at you from your hand like some creepy smiley face without a mouth. Was this good news? Or bad news? Your shell-shocked mind hadn’t had the time to process yet, but hell. You really didn’t know if you’d ever know for sure. A baby was a tiny human being. A tiny human being that absolutely had no place in your dark and dangerous world. You were a hunter for God’s sake.

Still, it was a baby… It was Dean’s baby. And though you’d just found out, and were in the process of taking the second test just in case, you already loved the little life in your stomach. Just like you loved the father of your child. It wasn’t the right time, but it was never the right time. Not in your life. Damn it, you couldn’t decide whether or not you should be happy or terrified.

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OK, I SWEAR TO THE LORT that someone posted about a Marvey/Beauty and the beast crossover thingy on @parabatez about a library and I wrote this for that, but I cannot find the post, so if it was someone else, or you know what I’m talking about, please let me know so I can credit appropriately!

Anyway. Here’s the shmoopiest hurt/comfort fluff. 

Mike checks his phone for the fifth time in twelve minutes.

”Come on, dude, it’s eleven o’clock. PM, you douchebag!”

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“You told me to ‘go the fuck away.’ You don’t get to be pissy now, princess.”</i>

“I am your goddamn boss. I will be however the fuck I want. This is as much your case as it is mine, and you’re the one who screwed the pooch, so you get your uppity little ass to my condo with those notes or you won’t have a job to come back to.”

Mike breathes deeply. “I’ll be over in thirty.”

It hadn’t even been that much of a fuck up. He’d get the signature. He just hadn’t gotten it today. Harvey’s been avoiding him so much he hadn’t managed to mentioned they were on a timeline. How was Mike supposed to know?

It’s not the kind of neighborhood where people sit on doorsteps, but Mike’s feeling salty about being chewed out, threatened, and then stood up on a Friday night, interrupting a standing date with his ratty couch and a six pack of shitty beer, so he plunks down on the edge of one of the giant pots holding the plants that guard the building’s entrance with a huff, which is when a rough voice says, “Get your goddamn ass off my planter.”

Halfway through, “Technically it’s not your planter,” Mike chokes. “Oh my god, what happened?”

Harvey sneers. “I tripped.”

“…In front of a bus?”

“Go away.”

“You just threatened me into coming over!”

“Kind of obvious plans have changed,” he grits, struggling to dig his keys out of his pocket while holding his ribs together with the other arm.

“Here.” Mike jumps up. “Let me.” Harvey jerks away from him, but jars something in the process, badly enough that Mike doesn’t even have to be quick about reaching into his coat and withdrawing the keycard. “After you, princess.”

Mike’s pretty sure he’s not invited in after Harvey. He goes anyway.

The front desk guy is nodding off so Mike flashes him a smile and steps forward, blocking his groggy view as Harvey limps to the elevator. Pissed as he is, Mike’s not about to leave Harvey alone.

“Go home, Mike.”

“Make me.”

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Spectator Sports

Word Count: 2891

Warnings: Pure Smut, Girl on Girl, Voyeurism

A/N: This was a ton of fun to write and I have totally left it open for a part 2; we’ll see. 

Summary: Sam and Dean have met a couple of girls. One night, after a few drinks,  the girls run into each other in the kitchen and things take a turn for the better; Dean is woken up by the noises echoing through the Bunker, he wakes Sam and together they investigate the disturbance only to find their girlfriends going to town on one another in the middle of the Library. The boys are not invited to join but are told to just sit back enjoy the show.

(none of the images are mine - thank you tumblr porn and google)

Sam and Dean had lived in the Bunker for a few years now, more than a few, actually, after the Darkness came and went, they decided to take some time off from hunting. They still worked research for other hunters, became a safe haven when for them when needed. That is how they came to meet Y/N and Callie.

One night, Sam got a call from Garth, saying there were two hunters in the area that needed a place to hole up and recover from a bad hunt.  Needless to say both boys were unprepared for what they found when they opened the heavy steel door that night six months ago.

Callie met Y/N a few years ago on a case and they have been hunting together ever since. Callie was tall and beautiful with dark skin, light eyes and a mess of curls topping her ever curious brain. Y/N was almost her polar opposite, and she was tougher than she looked for her size. But they worked well together and were badass. Their wounds had healed months ago, but neither was anxious to get back on the road. They had found more than refuge here at the Men Of Letters Bunker.

Within only a few weeks, each girl had picked their poison. Callie, the taller of the two was instantly drawn to Sam. He was an Adonis with intellect that rivaled her own. They soon found themselves alone too many nights in the Library, researching turned to strewn books all over the table, making room for hot bodies.

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Something For You

Hi babes! This is a Peter Parker fluff (that starts out smutty) about the reader trying to uncover Spider-Man’s secret identity after he protects her from some creeps one night while she crushes on Peter at school! I hope you like it!

Something For You

When Peter was in her room, even the air felt different. It felt like a fleecy blanket against her skin, all heavy, warm and at times, suffocating. Whatever pieces of fabric that Peter had yet to tear away from her body, she despised. She wanted to take it all off while his head rested against her clavicle, his hair tickling the crook of her neck while he pressed dulcet kisses across her collarbone.

    When her grip tightened around his hips, Peter would hitch her legs just a bit higher and his T-shirt would be tossed carelessly to the floor. Her favorite noise would forevermore be the creaks of her headboard smacking against her bedroom wall when their movements became even more erratic, and the little whines that left Peter’s throat when she scratched her nails softly down his bare back, and through his hair. The worships he whispered against her bare skin weren’t half bad either.

    The saltiness that came in with Peter when he slipped through her window rubbed into her flesh as their bodies twisted together. Splotches of cherry spilled across the floral expanse of her sheets, but she was too caught up with how low Peter’s kisses were dropping to even think about minding.

    Just as Peter’s kiss dropped to her inner thighs and her head dipped back, with her eyes clamped shut, a blaring alarm blasted through her phone’s speakers, halting her dream right then and there. She could’ve screamed in anguish. It was the third time her dreams of Peter had been interrupted by her alarm.

    Pulling her body from the plush confines of her bed, her shaky legs walked her down the hallway to prepare for the impending school day. Peter would be there, with his messy hair and kind, brown eyes. If she had any hopes of making her dream a reality, she’d better tame the mess atop her head that she called hair.

    As soon as she came back to her room and shut her door, and glanced over to her window, smiling when she’d come across another, not-so-anonymous gift webbed to her window.

    About a month or so ago, the famous Spider-Man had saved her from the gruesome clutches of a few creeps as she was walking home from her friends house. Instead of leaving her on the ground after he’d fought them off, he had curled an arm around her waist and used his webs to help her make it home safely. Ever since then, sometimes he would leave small gifts tacked outside her window.

    This morning, he had pasted a postcard with a photo of Gustav Klimt’s, ‘The Kiss,’ to her window. A smile graced her lips as she retrieved it, turning it over to see if he had left her a note. In the messiest handwriting the girl had ever come across, Spider-Man had scribbled,

You know who I am, smart girl. Think.

    It had been a running joke between the pair. As soon as he had dropped her off and was waiting to ensure that she made it in alright, she had turned on her heel swiftly and claimed that she recognized his voice. She had heard it somewhere before, she was positive, she just couldn’t place it. Now, Spider-Man seemed to tease her about it every chance he got.

    Taping the postcard above her bed, the girl went about her morning, rushing to make sure that she wasn’t late her first period of the day.

    Peter Parker, on the other hand, was more than alright with skipping his first period. On accident, he had dozed off, leaned against her window pane when he went to drop off ‘The Kiss.’ She had merely looked so peaceful, swaddled in her pink bedspread, and Peter craved that level of calm. He’d do anything to replace her pink sheets, to hold her close to him at night for warmth instead.

    Practically falling through his front door, Peter dragged himself up the stairs to his bedroom. He decided that if he slept through his first two periods, he would have time to arrive to school early where he’d run into her in the hallway, and maybe, if he could somehow plunk up the courage, he could walk her to their shared English class.

    Their interactions had been sparse. Peter had held the door for her every chance he got, nodding his head and blushing when she’d thank him, a rosy tint spilling across her cheeks as well. She had helped him gather his papers when Flash had knocked them out of his hands numerous times, once even telling him that he was smart when she had spotted one of his physics test scores.

    Although, the best interaction that they had ever had was when Peter caught her when she tripped on the stairs. It was within days of him getting bit by the spider, and he was hurrying down the steps while she was rushing up. Peter couldn’t even think of how she took such a nasty spill going upstairs, but before she had the chance to hit the floor, she was wrapped up in Peter’s arms, clutching his jacket with her eyes squeezed shut. She was braced for the impact that never came, and instead, she found herself with her cheek pressed into Peter’s chest.

    “Shit, are you alright?” Peter questioned, pulling away to inspect her for any signs of damage. Up close, she was even prettier. She had the love of Aphrodite in her eyes, and when she spoke, not even Tchaikovsky’s music could match the loveliness of her voice.

    “Oh gosh, Peter, M’so sorry! I almost took you down too, I’m so sorry!” One of her hands was placed in front of her mouth, while the other grabbed for his hand. “Thank you so much for not letting me fall, I’m literally a walking disaster waiting to happen.”

    Peter chuckled, shaking his head and moving his fingers to smooth over the back of her hand, “don’t worry about it, couldn’t just let you fall.” They shifted, each preparing to head in towards their differing locations, “just be careful, yeah? Don’t want you getting hurt.”

    She raised her eyebrows, the softness of his laugh reminding her of someone that she couldn’t quite pinpoint, “you’re one to talk,” motioning to his bruises law and bloody lip, “maybe you should be careful too?”

    They smiled at each other one last time before heading to their classrooms, but they lingered in each other’s minds for the rest of the day, week and ongoing months. Bashfulness plagued them both, because they hadn’t had a real conversation since then.

    When Peter finally awoke from his nap and had made his way to school, he tried to wander the hallway slowly, doing his best to seek her out. He doubted that he would have the courage to talk to her, but Peter would’ve settled for walking behind her. Her hair was so shiny that it would glimmer in the light, she smelled like vanilla and honey, and her bum wasn’t half bad to look at either.

    He waited for her until the first late bell rang, and a few moments before the second rang, Peter had been shooed off to class by one of his other teachers. He looked for her once he was seated, thinking it was possible that he’d missed her in the hall, but he couldn’t spot her in class either.

    About twenty minutes into the class, she slipped quietly inside, slinking to the back of the room, a few desks behind Peter. He could hear soft sniffles and trembling breaths. At this point, Peter figured out that she was crying. She was late to class because she was crying.

    It took everything in Peter to not go to her, get down on his knees, and kiss her tears away. He went out to fight bad guys on a daily basis in a city that wouldn’t ever be without crime, but Peter hadn’t ever felt so useless. Peter would’ve done anything to stop her tears. As soon as the class was over, she rushed out before a word between them was shared.

    At lunch, Peter walked past her and her friend’s table and overhead her tearfully explaining how awful a boy she had been tutoring had been to her. Peter decided that Spider-Man would be leaving her a gift that night.

    When the sun finally rose the next morning, the girl awoke to a bouquet of red tulips resting against her windowpane, along with a torn-out book page with a highlighted passage that read, “She had a kind heart, though that is not of much use when it comes to the matter of self-preservation.” The closer she looked at the tulips, she saw that Spider-Man had stuck a folded up note into the flower’s paper. It said,

The bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald.

    Moving the flowers into a vase, she trekked down to her local library to check out the very book.

    Moving through the hallway with his head ducked down, Peter crashed into her the next day at school. She was clutching a copy of ‘The Bookstore’ and a nearly empty coffee cup in her hands and blinked up at him in surprise.

    “Peter,” the girl questioned, holding an arm to his chest to steady him, “you seem sleepier than normal today.” Her eyes widened and she took a desperate sip to finish off her coffee, “not that I’m staring at you, ever, or anything. We just have, you know, classes and stuff together.” She felt blush spreading like wildfire throughout her entire body and she shook her head at herself. Leave it to her to let the boy she liked know that she was not only going to bump into him every other day, but that she was also a complete creep who couldn’t keep her eyes off of him.

    Peter smiled at her, “late night.” He wished that she would go back to nervously rambling, she looked awfully cute doing so. He tapped the cover of the book that rested in her hands, “I like her stuff, she’s very good. How far are you in?”

    “Only the first few chapters, my history exam had me up all night too.” She raised her coffee to her lips once more, taking a slow sip and licking the lid for any caffine that could’ve escaped her body before tossing it into the garbage can.

    She and Peter exchanged goodbyes and went through their separate schedules, both doing their best to create a conversation starter for the next day. Peter, taking full advantage of his secret identity, decided that Spider-Man would pay her a visit later on in the night. She seemed to enjoy the masked superheroes’ company, and Peter pondered that it was better he have her in secret than to not have her at all. He remained oblivious to the fact that at lunchtime, she had decoded bits and pieces of the mystery surrounding Spider-Man.

    It had clicked in her head just as she had sat down at her table and reopened ‘The Bookshop.’ Peter had cuts all over his face, bruises scattered across his body, not to mention he seemed familiar with the book in which Spider-Man had left her a passage from. Beyond that, when the pair had shared an art class, Peter had been so found of Klimt’s painting that he produced his own spin on the artwork. When Peter laughed, it was too eerily familiar to Spider-Man’s for her to let it go. The girl decided that tonight would be the night that she would stay up and wait for him.

    Peter wandered the skies, taking the long way back to where she lived. He’d only visit her after 4 a. m. because one night, Peter had stopped in at 2 in the morning and she was still up and flipping through pages of a novel that he couldn’t identify. When he perched on her windowsill, digging through his backpack to find the sonnet that he was going to web to her window, he found her sitting up in bed, and looking straight at him.

    The girl rushed forward, and motioned for Peter to lean back so she could open her window without nailing him in the face with the corner of her window. “Good morning,” she started, taking the boy she hoped and prayed was Peter Parker and pulling him through her window and into her bedroom. “Ask me who I think you are,” a smile teasing her mouth.

    Peter gulped, but decided to play along. “Who do you think I am?”

    “I think that you’re Peter Parker.” The girl said, leaning up on her tiptoes just as Peter glided his hands across her back to take a firm hold of her waist.

    Before he could over think it, Peter yanked off his mask, meeting her gaze full on, “I’m not sure you’re right, miss.” She knew and she didn’t seem disappointed, in fact, she seemed to be angling her lips towards his own, so Peter felt that it would be okay to tease her. He couldn’t get his brain to form anything other than a sarcastic sentence so he figured that he should just go with it.

    “You were looking for something,” she asked him, so close now that Peter could feel the heat of her breath on his jawline.

‘Shy love, I think of you

As the morning air brushes the window pane,

And how much time of all it takes to know

The movement of your arm, the steps you take,

The curves along your head, your ears, your hair.

For all of this, each hand, each finger,

Each lip, each breath, each sigh,

Each word and sound of voice of tongue,

I would require an age to contemplate.

But for your heart, your mind, you thoughts, all these,

To love them all I need at least five centuries.’

    “I do love Shakespeare,” the girl breathed before Peter crashed his lips down upon her own.

won me over (check, please! jack/bitty, 3.6k)

As promised, I’m posting a fic before 2016 ends!  It isn’t beta’d, and I’ll be posting a more refined version on AO3 at some point, but… well, almost 4k of words is better than nothing right? 

This is technically a sequel to my fic head over feet, but you don’t really need to know it to understand this one. 

It’s a Sunday morning when Bitty is woken up by the incessant buzzing of his phone.  

He rubs the sleep from his eyes and glances out the window.  There’s a stillness on campus that comes only after the first snowfall of the season—a perfect excuse to stay inside and avoid responsibilities. Normally, Bitty would be an advocate for such procrastination, but he remembers that he has plans and he can’t afford to mess them up.

“Ugh, turn it off,” Jack grumbles when Bitty’s phone starts buzzing again.

Bitty chuckles. “I would, but I can’t exactly move right now,” he informs from where he’s sandwiched between the wall and Jack’s body.  He gently shakes Jack’s shoulder. “You’re hogging the bed.”

“’m not,” Jack mumbles, still half-asleep.  He rolls over onto his back and pulls Bitty on top of him, which puts Bitty in close enough proximity to his phone to dismiss his alarm.

Bitty tries to wriggle out of Jack’s hold, but the other man retaliates and tightens his grip around Bitty’s waist.  

“Jack, sweetheart, let me up.  I have things to do.”

“I want you to stay here and sleep with me.”  

“Honey, you can’t still be tired.  It’s nearly ten!”  

Jack cracks one eye open and smiles lazily. “Who said anything about being tired?”

“What—” Bitty narrows his eyes. “Jack Laurent Zimmermann, was that a come on?”

“Maybe,” Jack responds. “Is it working?”

Bitty’s mind recalls the image of a blissed and fucked-out Jack sprawled on his bed just over eight hours ago. “Was last night not enough for you, honey?”

“I’ll never get enough of you, Bits.”

“You really know how to sweettalk a guy, don’t ya?”

“You’re the only one I’m interested in sweettalking,” Jack informs.

Bitty rolls his eyes but kisses him anyway.  Jack tries to deepen the kiss after a few moments, but Bitty stops him. “I have to study for midterms.”

Jack honest-to-god pouts. “You’ve had all week to study.”

“Not all of us have a work ethic like yours, Captain.”  

“You’d get more done if you didn’t tweet so much.”

“Okay, there’s got to be some sort of rule against chirping your boyfriend in bed,” Bitty says with a huff.  

Jack smiles. “You love it.”

“Unfortunately.” Bitty kisses him again, but abruptly pulls away when Jack’s hands starts traveling below the waistband of his shorts.

“Bits, why—”

Bitty ignores him and climbs off the bed. “I’m going to Founders to study with Lardo,” he announces.

Jack sits up and frowns when Bitty starts getting dressed. “You’re actually going?”

“I have two midterms on Tuesday,” Bitty says. “I’d rather not fail them and have to take summer classes.”

“Since when did you become the voice of reason in this relationship?”

“Mmm… probably when my future-NHL player boyfriend invited me to spend the summer with him,” Bitty says as he packs up his laptop and notebooks.

“I can still take you out to dinner later, right?” Jack asks.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Bitty says, grabbing his coat and backpack.  He pauses at the door on his way out and looks back at Jack.  It takes all of Bitty’s willpower to not jump back in his bed with a half-naked Jack Zimmermann, but he trudges on.  “In the meantime, maybe you can think of a few ideas on how you can wear me out tonight?” 

“Trust me, Bits.  I’ve already got more than a few ideas.” 

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Lost Boy (Steve/Tony College AU)

This is a completed fic! MASTERLIST

Steve has eight weeks to finish studying for and pass his bar exam. And its going well, until 19 year old boy genius Tony walks into the same library. 

Steve doesn’t usually go for kids like Tony- young and irresponsible, ripped jeans and eye liner, and a tongue ring that is way more distracting than it should be.

Oh, and Tony is high as a kite, studying his physics text book.

But Steve cant stop staring, and Tony is staring right back, more than interested in the serious blonde with cute glasses and big shoulders pushing against his button up.

A stand up guy like Steve is good for a troubled kid like Tony. But maybe Tony is good for Steve as well.


Couple Notes Lovelies– Tonys drug use will not be treated lightly later on in the fic, so if this is a trigger please be careful reading.

The first time Steve and Tony met, Steve was studying for his bar exam, hunched over a pile of books in the college library.

“Can I sit here?” A low voice asked, and Steve looked up, before looking right back down, instantly flustered, stuttering over his words as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“Uh yeah-yeah, whatever.” He cleared a stack of books off and the other man set a big stack down.


Steve couldn’t help stealing glances.  
The newcomer was young, definitely younger than Steve’s 25 years. Maybe barely out of high school. Dressed all in black, knees showing through ripped denim, and a worn AC/D.C. shirt stretching across his shoulders.
He was gorgeous. Steve couldn’t help wanting to stare. He was just…gorgeous. Clear skin, big eyes made more dramatic by eye liner. Dark hair that just barely started curling over his ears. Wiry muscles in his arms, and long legs. Just the beginning of a goatee around his mouth and chin. It was sexy in a scruffy, punk kid kind of way.
Steve was hooked instantly. .

Unfortunately, the kid  was also high as fuck.

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So this is a silly fic brought to you by that recent post about The Truth about Florists, and a little bit by that other floristry post from a few months ago. And when I’m not on mobile and it’s not past one in the morning, I will link those. If I can find them again.


It’s the end of a long day, and Derek is putting the last of the display flowers in the fridge as the front door bangs open. He frowns; he’s technically closed the shop, but he mustn’t have latched the door yet.

A young man leans on the newly cleaned glass counter. He’s out of breath and a little pink in the face, like he’d run down the whole street, though the color in his cheeks could just be from the cold outside. Fall has come late this year.

The guy’s hands will be streaking the glass. Derek’ll have to wipe it down again when he’s gone. But, his inner Laura reminds him, customer.

“How do you say ‘fuck you’ in flowers,” gasps the man.

Derek’s brows draw together, like a little conference of perplexity above his nose.

“Well,” he says, thinking it out, “I guess you could order white lilies. You know, like for a funeral. Like ‘I wish you were dead’.”

The customer hums. “I like the way you think,” he says. “But no. I’m thinking a more opaque burn than that. Because the ancient withered old-man crone – why isn’t there a good male equivalent to crone? That’s totally sexism – this old guy that I work for is such a spectacular asshole, and he needs to be told so. But, uh, in a way that can’t be traced back to me, because I badly need this job. Because student loans. So I was thinking a burn using the language of flowers, so I get the satisfaction even if he never knows. And it’ll probably make his PA laugh, because Lydia knows all things. And she deserves a good laugh.”

“I don’t actually have the language of flowers memorized, you know,” Derek says.

“What!” says the customer, outraged. “But you’re a florist!”

In the twenty-first century,” says Derek oppressively. “The language of flowers hasn’t been used for a hundred years.”

“You’re breaking my heart here,” says the guy, clutching one hand to his chest. “How am I supposed to tell my crush that they have my sincerest admiration and sweetest love?”

He bats his long eyelashes. Derek is 100% unmoved.

“Buy them some red roses,” he says. “And use your words.”

The guy bursts out laughing. He laughs with his whole body, tipping his head back and exposing the long column of his throat. It is unfair, and Derek is tired, and he wants to go home. He came into work at five this morning in order to get an order done for a wedding for a demanding groom – worse, this is the order for the rehearsal dinner, who even gets flowers for a rehearsal dinner? The actual wedding order will be for this weekend, and he’ll have to get Isaac to help out – and so it’s just Derek’s luck that a cute guy comes into his shop, and is maybe flirting with him? and Derek is way too tired to be clever and witty back. Why couldn’t the guy have come in yesterday? Yesterday his esprit d’escalier was more like esprit de counter, and he’d actually managed to give as good as he got to Erica when she came by in her lunchbreak. Yesterday he could’ve maybe had a chance with this guy. Today he has bags under his eyes and his brain is running at half speed.

“Really? Really? I need to use my words? Dude. You have literally struck me dumb, because no-one has said that to me once in my whole life. I am stunned and amazed.”

“You talk a lot for someone who’s been struck dumb,” says Derek, leaning his hip against the counter. There is a twitch at the side of his mouth which is definitely not the beginnings of a smile.

“He jokes! Let me guess,” says the guy, “you got into floristry – florism? because plants talk less than people.”

Derek says nothing to this, because it’s a little too close to the truth. Instead, he changes the topic.

“Anyway, you don’t find most books agreeing about the meanings,” he says, tidying the sheets of decorative paper by the till. “Not if you look at the more obscure flowers, and not just, you know, roses or mums or whatever.”

“You do know about the language of flowers,” accuses cute guy.

“Not really,” sighs Derek. “Not enough to be able to make you an arrangement. I read some books on floriography, but it was a long time ago, and I never committed anything to memory.”

Floriography,” repeats the cute guy, looking utterly delighted. “Okay. So, how big a bunch of flowers could I get for fifty dollars?”

“Mm, about this big,” says Derek, sketching out his seventy dollar arrangement in the air. What? It’s his damn florist’s. He can give a cute guy a discount if he wants. He has rehearsal dinner flower arrangement money in the till, it’s fine.

“Nice,” says the cute guy, nodding. “That’d be the perfect size. That should burn him. So. I’ll go away tonight, get my research on – I’m gangbusters at research, research is my bitch – then I’ll come back tomorrow night with some ideas? I’ll even manage to come before closing which, sorry about that. It’s just that my boss had us in for some sudden emergency all-staff meeting until six-thirty for no obvious reason other than to mess us about. I was meant to leave at four today. It’s Lydia I feel sorry for, though. She had to rearrange her dinner, it was a whole thing.”

He yawns, and it’s catching. Derek can barely suppress his own.

“Anyway!” The guy says. He fishes in his messenger bag until he finds his wallet. “I’ll bring the research tomorrow, then can you deliver the flowers to Gerard the next day? I’ll write down the address.”

“Sure,” says Derek. “So long as we don’t pick out anything that I don’t have in stock.”

“No super obscure flowers like aconite or whatever, check.” He snags the notebook that Derek keeps by the till and scribbles down the address. “I’m Stiles, by the way,” he says, without looking up. He adds STILES at the bottom in blocky letters, and follows it with a phone number. “Um, so. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow after work.”

“I look forward to it,” says Derek, then mentally facepalms as Stiles gives him an odd sort of smile. Then the front door closed behind him and he was gone.


That night, Derek pulls out his old book on the language of flowers. He found it at a second-hand bookshop when he was fourteen, and since he’d been obsessed with ciphers and secret messages at the time, he bought it.

The book hadn’t given him any clues as to ways to keep his diary secret from Laura, but there was something about the quiet messages that appealed to him: pansy, think of me; bay leaf, I change but in death; peach, your qualities, like your charms, are unequalled.

Sooner or later, however, the book had been borrowed by someone, or relegated to a scarcely used part in the family bookshelves, and he’d barely thought of it again. It occurs to him that the quiet hours he’d spent at the nursery with his father might not have been the only influence on his choice of career.

Thoughtfully, he pulls a notebook towards him and started taking notes.


“Okay, so, obviously I couldn’t get to a library today because work, but I have crosschecked like six different websites, and possibly have not sleep enough. But I have a list! I don’t suppose you keep hemlock on hand?”

Derek looks up, and is somehow unsurprised to see Stiles coming into the shop. He doesn’t know anyone who would be halfway into a conversation before clearing a doorway.

“Not since I gave up my hobby of poisoning philosophers, no,” he says. “And I’m not sure a plant mostly renowned for its lethality is really a subtle burn.”

“Shame,” says Stiles, pulling out a sheaf of papers and dropping his messenger bag by the counter. “The meaning was ‘you will be my death’, and truer words have not been spoken.”

He runs his long fingers over the top sheet, flattening it out, and passes it to Derek. Derek picks up a pencil and crosses out belvedere and hops. He taps the pencil against his mouth.

“This’d be very primary colored,” he says. “Also I think I would pick either lavender or geranium, but not both.”

“Uh, lavender, then,” says Stiles, watching the pencil’s movement. “Shame about the belvedere. ‘I declare war upon you!’ It’s exactly the sentiment that I wanted to convey.”

“We agreed to limit it to things I’ve got in stock,” Derek reminds him.

“Ruin all my fun. Oh, hey, who’s that one for?”

Derek follows Stiles’s pointing finger, and sees to his horror that the arrangement he’d been working on is still on the bench behind him.

“Nothing,” he says. “I mean, no-one.”

“It’s not mine, is it?” Stiles says as he shuffles his paper pile, and Derek wants to die. “Except, no, pink carnation’s got a nice meaning. Aw, ‘I will never forget you’. That’s sweet.”

He looks up, and catches Derek’s panicked expression.

Are they for me?” he says quietly.

“Fine, yes.”

He puts them down in front of Stiles, but can’t convince his hands to let go of the box.

“They’re not finished,” he says, staring down at them. “I haven’t put the ribbon around or anything …”

“They’re beautiful,” says Stiles. He lifts them out of Derek’s hands, and their fingers brush. Derek feels every little point of contact like electric sparks. “What’re the lilacs mean?”

“First emotions of love.”

“Aw. What about the tulips?”

“Declaration of love.”

“So forward! Did you do research for this?” He looks up. Derek shrugs. “You did! You did research for me! I don’t think anyone’s ever researched for me.”

Stiles is grinning at his flowers, turning the arrangement around in his hands so he can examine it from all sides. Derek wishes he’d spent more time on it.

“Oh!” says Stiles. “I nearly forgot. I brought you these.”

He opens his messenger bag and brings out a bouquet of red roses, cellophane wrapped and only slightly squashed. Derek takes them from him, dumbfounded.

“Sorry,” says Stiles. “It was a stupid idea, just forget it—”

He reaches for the bouquet but Derek clutches at them.

“No,” he says. “I love them. No-one’s— no-one’s brought me flowers before.”

“Oh,” says Stiles. He licks his lips. “That’s— that’s good. Anyway, they were only the first part. The second part is this: ‘You have my sincerest admiration and sweetest love—’”

Derek puts the flowers aside and draws Stiles in for a kiss.

RFA, V, and Saeran - Best Friends/Platonic Relationships Headcanons

A/N: Okay, I was going to make an edit aND I DELETED THE POST WITH THIS PROMPT ON IT. I’M SO SORRY TO THE NONNIE THAT REQUESTED THIS. I hope you see it!!! As I said, it was tons of fun to write!!! ~ Admin 626

TW: death mention, needle mention


  • You love playing video games with this little dude!!!
  • Pokémon? Smash Bros? and of course LOLOL
  • youtwotagteamandtrytobreatSaeyoung
    • talkaboutafailedmission
  • MC stop knocking the controller out of my hand when I’m about to win”
    • youreanaggressivegamer
  • Outside of video games, you’re both avid plushie collectors
    • youbothowneverysingleTsumTsumthatisavailable
    • “MC I can see the plushies stuffed in ur purse please give them back”
    • byviolentmeanshemeansanerfgunthislittlecutie
  • You both take a cooking and baking class together!
    • You cook better than him but no one can beat this boy’s baking skills
    • Notreallyasurprisethisboiisugarsweet
    • You both have competitions to see who can cook/bake the better dish!!!
    • S A B O T A G E
  • “Oops, sorry MC, really didn’t mean to break your bowl with cake batter in it…”
    • damnthosepuppydogeyes
    • listen,,, u may think this boy can’t put up a fight bUT HE WILL KILL FOR HIS BAKING SKILLS
  • He’s super supportive of yours and Zen’s relationship!!
    • He goes with you and Jaehee to watch Zen’s shows!!!
    • Hopesthatzenwilleventuallytonedownthenarcissism
  • Youtryhookinghimupwithsaranwrap
    • Anotherfailedmission*cri*
    • orsotheyleadyoutothink*winkwonk*


  • It was super hard to become friends with this dramatic ass hoe at first
    • Howcanhetalkabouthimselfsomuchwth
  • But when he learns that you’re a hairdress and makeup artist he wants to hire you!!!
  • You’re a little annoyed at first but cmon, a job is a job!
    • You slowly figure out there’s so much more to zenny boy than just his narcissism when you’re doing his hair and makeup???
    • Who knew he was actually sweet and worked so hard???
    • This lil boi offers to be your instagram model when you wanna show off new makeup looks!
    • Since he’s so popular you gain a huge following so you end up teaching classes about makeup???
    • No matter how busy he is, he comes to every class to be ur model!!! That little sweeatheart
  • Youtrytopairhimandjaeheetogether
    • yourhoeassissittinginthebackrowwatchingandhopeZenwillpullthedumbyawnmove
    • heactuallydoes
  • urns out you love riding his motorcycle???
    • “listen zen,,, I am the greatest good…you’re ever gonna get,,,”
    • “I can’t tell if you lost the keys or if you stole them to make that stupid reference”


  • You bonded with jaehee over the amount of work you both have to do!
  • You’re in med school and ur supervisor LOVES to run you ragged
    • You’re pager pretty much goes off every time u get home
  • Getting five hours of sleep is a godsend for you both???
    • You precious beans don’t deserved to be treated this way
  • She loves watching Zen movies with you!
    • You always have something super insightful to say
    • And if you ever criticize something, ur super nice about it, it doesn’t even sound like criticism
    • You’rethankfultoherforshowingyouZennyinallhishotness
  • “Jaehee… did you just lick your poster of Zen..?”
    • “No, MC, I believe you are just high”
    • “Pretty sure I’m not”
    • “You’ll catch these hands if you mention this to anyone again”
    • youfindoutjaeheesecretlylovesmemes
  • After a super sappy Zen movie where the moral was to pursue your dreams, you’re able to push jaehee into pursuing hers!!
    • You help her with so much even with your busy schedule!
    • Food tasting, coffee tasting, finding a good place to open at, etc
  • You’re pretty much her assistant and you LOVE it
    • Maybeyoushouldhavemajoredinbusiness
  • this little cinnamon roll always has a cup of coffee and a piece of cake ready for you when you get out of the hospital
  • you even have your own armchair in the shop that you always sometimes fall asleep in
  • theentireRFAtakespicturesofucauseyoudroolLMAOthosehoes 


    • He’s so glad to have someone in the group who understands his love for cats
    • Otherthansaeyoungthatboyiscreepy
  • But it turns out, you’re not just a cat lover, you’re an animal lover!
    • You drag this hoe to a zoo to teach him about all the other animals in the world!!
    • He becomes fascinated with them and you two go to ever famous zoo/safari there is in the world???
  • “There’s so much in the world I haven’t seen, MC, how could I be so blind?”
    • “Haha, are you making fun of V?”
    • “MC no”
  • You two binge watch Netflix documentaries!!!
    • “wow MC the birds are so beautiful”
    • “Do you have a fetish for them like your fetish with cats?”
    • MC what”
  • He even considers getting a doggo???
    • You two both go to the shelter and adopt dogs!!!
    • Of course he brings Elizabeth the 3rd, he needs to make sure his princess gets along with the new addition to the family
  • He gets a black lab!!!
    • Her name is Coco!!! What a cutie
  • You two have playdates with your dogs ofc
  • You show this trustfund boy many commoner things
    • Itslikeouranhighschoolhostcluballoveragain
    • “wait…so a microwave heats leftovers…but why would anyone have leftovers?”
    • “a public library is where people go to rent a book for a few days? Why don’t they just get their own library?”
  • honestly ur such a good, healthy friend for him unlikethatrikahoe u show him so many things the world has to offer


  • No one, not even jumin’s body guards, can stop this memelording duo
  • But one day you’re show up at his door sobbing
    • W H A T
    • This boy is so out of his element he has no idea what to do!!!
  • Turns out you’re a nurse and someone just died on your watch?
    • You couldn’t have prevented it but why does it hurt so much
    • Ohgodohgodwhatishesupposedtodoishesupposedtohugyou??
    • Yeahdumbassthatskindawhatudo
  • He hugs you and says “Listen, MC, your job saves so many lives. There will be deaths but just remember the many that you’ve saved. I wish I could have a job that saved people’s lives.” omgbbysaeyoungnoooo
  • This a super deep bonding moment for you two that solidified your friendship forever!!!
    • When Saeyoung is feeling super down about his job, he comes to you
    • “I’m hurting so many people but I can’t escape it”
  • He’s afraid he’s revealed way too much to you and someone will come after you
  • You two nerd out together now!!!!
    • Stars Wars? Midnight Premiere plus cosplay hetotallyhackedthecinema’swebsitetogetthetickets
    • Doctor Who? marATHONS!!!
    • youbothlovedatingsimsgames


  • ·You never though in a million years that Edgelord would become your best friend
  • But for his birthday, you got him tickets to his favorite band because this precious emo deserves happiness
  • He has no one to take though???Whydidyouthinkhehadfriendsudumbass
    • No one in the RFA wants to go (emomusic?nothx) and there’s no way in hell he’s taking Saeyoung sorrynotsorry
    • “Since there’s no one better, wanna go with me?”
    • Thanks saran wrap, thanks
  • You actually really love the music at the concert!!
    • You ask saran wrap for more music recommendations and he gives you a couple of CDs and tells u his fave songs
    • One day you return his CDs and he’s napping on the couch?
  • Ho my god he sTARS THRASHING AROUND???
    • He’s probably having a nightmare but you don’t know what to do???
    • You wake him up but he grabs your wrist REALLY tightly because he thinks you’re an enemy
    • Neverwakethisboyup
    • Of course this goth bean has nightmares, he was subjected to so many years of mental torture!!!
  • He’s not ready for any sort of human contact so hugging to comfort him is out of the question
    • You tell him that he can go back to sleep and that you’ll stay here til he wakes up
    • “No one will go after you while I’m here!!!
    • realfierceMC
    • He smiles smirks because you’re like a hissing kitten
  • Having you there is actually super comforting??? Kittensareveryuseful
  • You become a huge part in his road to recovery
    • You help him learn how to socialize! Ofc he’s still an asshole but at least he’s not a murdering asshole
    • You get him a cat!! Pet therapy!!!
    • Youteachhimhowtodressalittlelessedgy
  • He cracks so many jokes about you???
    • “Hey MC you’re almost tall enough to be taken seriously”
    • hemysteriouslygetsblackeye 

V (he’s a lil blind in this one)

  • You’ve actually been SUPER cautious of V
  • He doesn’t seem like a bad guy but…there was just so much he wasn’t telling the group???
  • You decide to take a photography class because you got a Canon camera as a birthday gift from your parents!
    • V is teaching the class?
    • Theyletblindpeopleteach??? Youlearnsomethingneweveryday
  • You’re a good student and you actually have a knack for this!
  • You two start eating dinner together after the class on the way home
  • You may be quiet in class bUT YOU SASS HIM SO MUCH AFTERWARDS
    • “V, we should give you a broomstick instead of a cane, the world would be a much cleaner place!”
    • “A blind man walks into a bar..and a table…and a chair”
    • “When you and Rika broke up, did she say “we should see other people?” haha get it cause you can’t see”
    • MCWHY
  • He’s honestly loving it though?
    • Everyone tiptoes around him, it’s annoying
  • But you just keep making jokes! It’s so refreshing
  • He recognizes your talent and starts giving you one on one lessons!!! He wants to take you one as an apprentice, what a cute giraffe
  • In return, you teach him Braille!
    • “Where did you learn this from?”
    • “Oh one of my other friends is blind, why do you think I know so many blind jokes?” youtotallydidntusegoogleliketheAdmindid
  • As V begins losing more of his sight, cutie you starts helping him around the house
    • You make sure everything in his house is always where it’s supposed to be
    • Thisisoutofthewellbeingofyourheartandnotbecausehemadeasaltybirthdaycakeforyou
    • Sevenisanassholewholikestomovethingsaround
  • As much as you don’t like Rika, you don’t push V into trying to fall out of love with her, you recognize that something like that will take time and he has to want to get over her
    • He’s very thankful for you
Bookshelves & Blow Jobs

Image: you and Peter have a library date and things get frisky *wink wink*

I love his hair in this wow he’s the cutest. Also this title is ridiculous but it made me chuckle so?? idk ignore me being dumb

Warnings: smut


You stared at the notes in front of you, tapping your pencil lightly on the desk as you tried to focus on your history notes. It was a Friday night and the last place you wanted to be was a library. You sighed, peeing up at your boyfriend Peter, who sat across from you. Even though it sucked having to study for the monster test you had Monday, having him there made it slightly better.

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I’m pretty proud of the language in this one. It’s been so long since i’ve written anything solely Loki that I’m concerned it’s drifted from his character. Also Asgardian!Reader is my new favourite thing - I hope you guys like it too. This request was made by @luchmich and I think it’s the first Christmas fic I’ve written ACTUALLY about Christmas! All of the other ones were just about snow. Not all that Chrristmassy to be honest, depending on where you live… Ah well, enjoy!

“Midgard Traditions”

The palace was wonderfully quiet in the evening. The only sound that could be heard was the soft padding of your feet on the crimson carpet as you wandered through it. Your mother was a close friend of The Allmother, Queen Frigga, so every year when the world was at its coldest and the nights at their longest, you and your family were invited to the castle for several weeks.

As you turned a corner, you felt a slender arm link with yours. Loki pulled you against his hip and fell into step with you.
“Good evening.” He smiled. You bowed your head.
“My prince.”
“Every year you refer to me thusly, and every year I must remind you not to.”
“Then I suggest you desist, as your words are having no effect.”

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The Professor (Part 2)

The Professor Masterlist Previous Part   

Reality hit you. “Don’t show me, Amy,” you said, looking at her. You felt a little bad because she, in her ill state, had gone to the trouble of digging up dirt to find his Facebook profile. “I doubt a guy like him isn’t already taken,” you said sadly, your mood suddenly changing. “He’s married, isn’t he? Hell, he probably has fucking kids! I should’ve known…” You trailed off as a smile crept onto Amy’s face.

“Just look at it, geez, Y/N,” you leaned towards her and you looked at his Facebook page. Amy guided you through it. “His name’s Chris. I like it…‘Chris Evans’…has a nice ring to it. He’s twenty-eight, single, has a fucking PhD!”

“Dude’s a whole premium package,” you said, scrolling down the list of posts.

You burst out laughing at one of the links he’d shared. “Grandmas react to the Kim Kardashian sex tape, and our innocent professor here, said ‘this is absolutely, without question, the greatest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I wanna hang with these ladies.’”

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Honey & Home

They buy him beehives.

It’s a gift, because Cas has been living in the bunker for a year now.

On May 2nd, he made Sam a big chocolate cake (even though Dean bitched it wasn’t pie) and a salad full of strawberries and blueberries and spicy chicken with a sweet vignette that Sam talked about for weeks (Dean bitched about that too).
On January 24th, he made a pie and a cheeseburgers and crawled into the back of the Impala for a drive to absolutely nowhere. (Dean didn’t bitch about that at all.)
But neither of them knew when Cas’s birthday was. They didn’t even know if he had a birthday.
So when the year mark rolls up, Sam mentions it. We should do something. Get something he’d like but wouldn’t ever get himself.
And that opened up a whole world of possiblities. But Dean knew exactly what to get.
We’re gonna get him some fucking bees.
So they get him two hives and Castiel stares at them like they’re the second coming and he smiles so big and gummy that both brothers are a little flustered.
He comes in from beekeeping in a big suit, smelling like smoke and sweat and grinning, and Dean laughs his ass off. Even Sam fights a smile.
But the hives change something.

Some of the tension that Dean didn’t realize was there is gone now. He finds Cas occupying the bunker, in a way he wasn’t before. He makes more noise, when he walks and when he cooks, like he’s home, and not a polite guest. His shoes are kicked off under the table in the library. His trenchcoat on the map in the warroom. Books he’s reading in the kitchen and the table in front of the TV, and even Dean’s bedside table because sometimes Dean wants company and Cas reads or watches Netflix, propped against the headboard while Dean falls asleep.
Castiel is living there now.
Like he finally knows he’s staying and he can relax. And Dean relaxes, too.

Sam notices it before Dean. The tiny way that Dean changes.
He actually touches Castiel now. When he’s brushing past him in the hallway, or watching a movie in the evening. A light hand to the elbow when they’re cleaning the dishes or an arm wrapped around his shoulder when they stagger in from sparring.
When they’re next to each other in Dean’s bed.
In the Impala, when Sam is sleeping in the back seat.

One afternoon, Castiel comes in from the beehives. His cheeks are pink and flushed and he’s grinning at Dean whose pouring a cup of coffee.
Taste this.
Cas holds up a piece of honeycomb, and without thinking, Dean licks it free of his fingertips.
For a heartbeat, everything stills, Cas stares at him like he did, that first night in the barn, and he can’t breathe and then Dean grins, licks his lips.
And Cas leans in and licks the taste of honey from Dean’s lips.
Kissing Cas feels like heaven.
He tastes like smoke and honey and home.
Kissing Dean feels like peace.
He tastes like sunlight and peace and home.
Sam finds them there thirty minutes later and he smiles when Cas blinks at him, dazed, lips kiss bitten, voice raspy. Still shiny and bright when he polite asks.
Would you like some honey?

A Second Crack in the Glass (LokixReader)

Read parts 1 and 2!

Author’s Note: Tagging @avengershavethetardis and @sassysergeant as requested :)

Originally posted by fromhiddleswithlove

  It had been a week since you last spoke to Loki. Instead, you were spending your time with Fandral. He flirted with you over half of the time, and it bothered you. Could he not accept the fact that he had already made you his new lady friend.

  He was fun to be around, though. You two would work together in sword practice, but you would always beat him. His tactics remained the same every time he lurched at you. You missed Loki; at least he would make a challenge by throwing magic at you.

  “Care to go again, love?” Fandral asked, panting slightly. You helped him off of the ground. “I just love fighting with you.”

  “Actually,” you said, looking at the open door, “I must continue to work with Princess Elenalyn. I will speak to you again tonight during the feast.” You smiled at him before sheathing your sword and striding out of the training room.

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heartofalife  asked:

oh my god. if you want to id love to see more of that rapunzel au holyshit. just when i was getting super into it it ended and left me blue ball'd. its everything i ever wanted rapunzel au's are my fucki ng weakbnes.. actually any disney au just u gh

Aw dude, how can I say no to a face like that? Everyone on board the SS Disney AU, because this is my weakness too and I’ve long given up on calling this a drabble WHOOPS

Continuation of this

In hindsight, smart-mouthing the lost prince of Hoshido might have been a bad idea.

But there was something about the way Takumi’s face skewed up seconds after the words left his mouth that made Leo feel satisfyingly smug, even as he sat restrained in the center of the barren room. Hair-tie ribbons dug into his wrists and ropes of silver hair were knotted around his legs, but Leo couldn’t find it in himself to be worried about his wellbeing. Not even concerned.

He was amused, really. Takumi was circling around him, arrow in one hand and his ponytail in the other to pull him around as needed. “Who are you,” he asked again, slowly as though he were talking to an infant. “How did you find my tower?”

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anonymous asked:

prompt: derek has a fixation for stiles' oral fixation

It’s unhygienic, is what it is. That’s the first thought that makes sense in Derek’s brain, settling in and soothing him with the comfort that comes from finally understanding. It’s unhygienic and inconsiderate, the way Stiles will just grab a pen while they’re working together, strategizing or researching, mark something down and, instead of setting the pen (Derek’s pen) back on the table like any decent human being, chooses to stick it in his mouth and leave it dangling there, hanging loosely off his lip or wobbling distractingly between his teeth.

Not that Derek, being what he is, has to be so much concerned with things like germs or hygiene. The whole pack has bled all over each other at one point or another. But that was different, that was an emergency. But this is just… manners. Common decency. And Stiles has the nerve to pretend Derek is the one who goes around pushing social boundaries, and then goes sticking other people’s writing implements in his mouth, letting them roll around on his tongue. It’s obscene.

The word comes to mind unexpectedly, but feels appropriate. Of course Stiles would find a way to make Derek’s pen into something obscene.

Stiles catches him scowling and quirks an expectant brow, lifting the pen from his curling lips and holding it out between two long fingers.

“You want it?”

The base of the pen is damp with spit. Stiles’ lip shines wetly where he’d dragged it out.

Derek smirks back, sharp and sarcastic.

“It leaked all over your mouth.”

It hadn’t, but the way Stiles’ smile falls, cheeks flushing as he goes to wipe at his mouth makes the moment a small victory anyway. And if Stiles spends the rest of the afternoon lifting his hand to run self-consciously over his lip, the small thrill Derek feels at the sight is just because he’s finally gotten one over on Stiles.

Childish? Maybe. But Stiles had chewed up his pen first.


Scott and Lydia’s voices have long faded into buzzing background noise, along with the sound of passing cars and the refrigerator’s hum. They’ve been talking in circles for some time now anyway, debating over the minutiae of a point that had been agreed upon in the first three minutes of the meeting… or at least, Derek thinks they are. It’s hard to focus, the world oddly distant as he zones out, not thinking about anything in particular. Across the table, a thin red strip shifts distractingly in an absent, bobbing rhythm, clutching and sliding between pale, pursed lips.

Long fingers catch his attention briefly, lifting to grip the candy, rolling it between lips that press in, suck harder. His own mouth feels dry; he wonders idly what the candy tastes like. It’s been ages since he’s indulged in something like that, gotten something he wanted just for the enjoyment of it. And that mouth sure as hell seems to be enjoying the candy, lips pulling back and teeth grazing over the red skin of it, tongue lapping out…

Derek jolts as the teeth snap down sharply, severing the tip of the candy. He blinks away fast, his gaze landing on Lydia, who’s watching him with uncomfortably discerning eyes. He huffs a breath, dismissing whatever theory is making her brows arch that way, and looks away.

When he looks back at Stiles, the younger man is still chewing idly on his Twizzler, flipping through an old book from the Argent library. He hasn’t noticed a thing.

Not that there’s anything to notice, no matter what the smirk in Lydia’s eyes might say.


The next time he’s out shopping, he buys a hundred pack of Twizzlers.


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What Are Friends For?

Originally posted by magnetosmind

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Request: “ Hey there. Can u do one were your peters best friend and you convince him to tell Erik who he really is. Bit of angst in between maybe Erik refusing to accept it at first but eventually comes round to the idea. Causing you and Peter to bond more.”

Warnings: None

You hated seeing Peter so conflicted. Ever since Apocalypse and Erik Lehnsherr had been visiting the school more often, Peter was more prone to disappearing into his head. You knew he was constantly battling with himself; if he should tell Erik he’s his son. You had given him his space to think it out, but you had had enough after three months of seeing him suffer.

You sighed, dropping the book you were reading on Peter’s bed. He turned to look at you, his eyebrows raised.

“What’s up?”

“You need to tell him,” you said bluntly. Peter groaned, leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” he protested.

“You won’t. I bet Erik would want to know.” You got up, tapping your friend on the shoulder pointedly. “I’ll come with you if you want.”

Peter blew a strand of silver hair out of his face. “Okay.” He slowly stood up, ambling toward the door. You followed, offering Peter a supportive smile as he neared the library doors, Erik’s usual hangout.

Peter placed his hand on the doorknob, his hand visibly shaking. You had never seen him so nervous, even when confronting Apocalypse.

“Do you want me to come in?” you asked. Peter shook his head, licking his lips with a nervous sigh.

“You’ll be good,” you promised, giving Peter one last nod before he headed in, letting the door click shut behind him.

You waited outside tensely, pacing the floor outside restlessly. It seemed like centuries before the door finally opened again, you spinning around expectantly. Your heart jumped when you saw Peter’s face, his brows furrowed.

“What did he say?” you asked quietly.

Peter refused to meet your eyes. “He wasn’t too happy. He didn’t really say anything past, ‘Leave me alone’.”

You bit your lip, reaching up to hug your friend. “I’m sorry.”

Peter hugged you back slowly, tucking his head into your shoulder. “It’s okay. I kind of knew this would happen.”

Peter suddenly pulled back, putting on one of his usual light hearted grins. “At least I told him.”

“Yeah.” You saw Peter’s smile waver a bit when you spoke. He was struggling, even if he wouldn’t show it.

“Let’s go see what Scott and Jean are doing,” Peter said, breezing past you, his hands tucked into his usual silver jacket. You pushed down the questions bubbling inside you. Peter was stubborn; if he didn’t want to talk about, he wouldn’t.

A couple days later, Peter still refused to say anything. He would just say he was okay, although you knew his father’s rejection was killing him inside.

You held up the mixtape you had just picked up from your room. You were going on and on about the songs on it, hoping to distract Peter a bit. He was nodding every once and a while, though his face remained vacant.


Your voice faltered when you saw Erik Lehnsherr strode up to the two of you. Peter tensed up, his gaze unwavering from Erik’s face. You quickly got up, grabbing your mixtape from the ground in front of you.

“I-I’ll leave you two to talk,” you stammered, giving Peter one last glance before moving a couple steps away. You couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but Peter’s face shifted through a dictionary of emotions as Erik talked. When Erik stuck out his hand with a hopeful expression, you waited tensely for Peter’s reaction. You let out a sigh of relief when Peter took his father’s hand, a grin flashing across his face as he said one last thing to Erik. Erik laughed, clapping Peter on the shoulder. Erik gave him one last nod before Peter sped away, sliding to a stop beside you.

“He said he was okay,” Peter said breathlessly. “He accepts me as his son.”

Your lips split into a wide grin. “That’s amazing!”

“I know!” Peter pulled you into a hug, his arms holding you in close to him. “Thank you. If you hadn’t prompted me to go talk to him, I’d still be stuck in a pit of self-doubt.”

“Well what are friends for?” you asked.

“You’re one of the best,” Peter said. You blushed, shrugging.

“I don’t know about that.”

“Who else would go watch Star Wars with me for the millionth time?” Peter said pointedly, pulling you toward the school.