you better help me out yeah

Bigfoot

So I’ve seen a bunch of super random text posts on my dash lately that end up with the tag Mulder, the tags were so accurate it inspired this silliness.

@fictober @today-in-fic


  You lay against Mulder, breath ragged.  The two of you inadvertently getting wine drunk at dinner tonight, leading to what you’re sure will be a morning filled with embarrassment when flashes of you and Mulder in the backseat of a cab flood your brain.

  You’d barley made it into the door of his apartment before relieving him of his pants, the need for him inside you making you feral, unyielding.

  You curl around him, the both of you in states of half undress, your skin slick with sweat and his saliva.

  “You know that was one of my fantasy’s Scully, fucking you up against my front door.  It was even better than I imagined.”

  The two of you sink horizontal across the floor, your head nestled in the crook of his neck, the overwhelming need to shut your eyes rushing over you.

  “Happy to help Mulder.”  You slur out as you drape his arm across your abdomen.  You feel yourself drifting towards unconsciousness on a sea of Cabernet and Mulder’s cock when his voice pulls you back.

  “Scully?”

  “Yeah Mulder?”  You mumble against his skin.

  “If we ever found Bigfoot… do you think… do you think he would like me?  Do you think we’d be friends?”

  “Really Mulder?”  You huff out exasperated.

  “Yeah Scully really.”

  You feel his fingertips settle over your hipbone and you can’t help yourself, you love this drunken idiot.

  “Of course I think you’d be friends Mulder, who wouldn’t love you?”

  “Yeah, I think you’re right Scully.”  The words fall out of his mouth like spilled cereal before soft snores escape his throat.

  “God I fell in love with a moron.”  You whisper as sleep carries you away.

missfangirl-slightly-obsessive  asked:

Hullo! Hope youre feeling better bunbun! Can i please request if your not busy. The reaction of ut +uf sans & us +sf pap to their s/o looking at cakes at a bake shop in a mall then suddenly when she leans in to get a better look a loud thud was hear as she hit her forehead on the glass. She didnt saw the glass display was curved outward. Then after a few confused blinks she burst out laughing. (happened to me earlier at the mall XD i was lauging till i cant breathe XD)

I am feeling better thanks♡ Also are you okay friend. I hope it isn’t too painful^^

UtSans: He immediately slaps a hand over his mouth. He knows you’re laughing, but he doesn’t want to seem rude. Instead, he chuckles before helping you off the floor. You’re such a dork sometimes, but be more careful, okay.

UfSans(Red): Yeah, no he’s laughing. Red’s practically dying. My goodness, what a fail that was. How did you not see the glass, doll? It was right there. Once he catches his breath Red asks if you’re okay, if you confirm that you not injured then the two fo you shall continue your day. If it makes you feel any better, you can pick out the cake.

Us!Papyrus(Stretch): Goodness sweetheart are you alright? When you start laughing stretch relaxes and helps you up. Stretch finds it cool that you can laugh at yourself like that. Kisses your poor injured forehead. You need to be more careful, sweetheart. What if you had injured the poor glass window. All kidding aside, Stretch tells you he’ll buy you a little cupcake for the two of you to share.

SfPapyrus(Slim): Can you explain what you even tripped over, please. My god. Slim laughs with you finding the way you fell quite amusing. He assists you up and makes sure your ‘wound’ isn’t too bad. Honestly, you probably won’t hear the end of this. Every time you walk by any windows Slim tells you to mind where you trip.

random life tips

hello everyone!! since I’m not a pro at studying (I just do my best) I thought I would share with you some of my go-to tips to have a better day/week/month/life 😊

  • wake up early!! this may seem typical but I used to sleep in a lot and when I started waking up earlier I noticed a big change.
  • clean your face daily! every morning and night clean your face and moisturize. just create a skincare routine and stick to it! also, use a day per week when you have time to relax and put some masks and exfoliate your face and body.
  • this may seem stupid but dress clothes you like and put on some makeup! but most important when you feel like this is not your day. when we’re feeling bad or a little sad we usually throw on some sweatpants & a sweatshirt and don’t use make up and even though it may seem stupid, if you push yourself to wear your favorite outfit or put a little bit of makeup you will see yourself looking better and this will make you feel better during the day (I promise)!!!
  • eat breakfast! brain food guys!!! this is the most important meal of the day. as a Spanish phrase used A LOT by my mom says “eat breakfast like a king, have lunch like a prince and have dinner like a poor man” (desayuna como un rey, come como un príncipe y cena como un mendigo).
  • make to-do lists: yeah, make to-do list for everything you need them! this will help you to do everything you must do without leaving any task (which would happen to me when I didn’t write out what I needed to do)
  • shower every night! okay if you prefer taking a shower in the morning is up to you but showering at night relaxes you and helps you sleep better
  • talk to people everyday (even if it’s your parents) you need to talk guys and tell someone how you feel and what happened during the day (those days I don’t talk to my friends/family I feel super sad and I don’t know why?)
  • listen to music that makes you feel alive!! I have this playlist where I put every song that makes me feel something. I think music is so powerful and can help you change your mood in a few secs
  • go out to nature! since I live in a city it feels super great when I get to spend some time out in the woods or the beach – go running, swim, take a walk or just sit, breath fresh air and enjoy!
  • dance, dance, danceeeeeee!!! hahah it doesn’t matter if your dance moves are worse than a potato but dance, jump and let go!
  • treat yourself with your favorite meal every now and then. I love eating so whenever I get to eat my favorite food it’s a happy day for me hahah :’-)
  • talk to your reflection in the mirror. tell yourself how great is your hair today, how glowy is your skin and how beautiful are you! do it every day, it’ll help 😊
  • sleep enough hours! when I don’t sleep a healthy amount of hours I feel super tired and I get angry super easily, so sleep well and wake up to a beautiful day!
  • journal and write daily or when you feel like you need to! write what you feel, what happened in that day, write your goals, quotes to summarize the day, the dreams you had last night… I don’t know! just let your mind go and write and/or doodle I promise this helps :-) 

well I hope this helped at least some of you!! thank you if you’ve read this!! xx

8

Reader x McCall Pack, Reader x Hale Pack

Requested By Anon


“Hey (Y/N) you wanna help Isaac out?” Derek asked and you stopped your search for your brother as you spotted Derek rearranging what looked like a box of chains.


“No offence I don’t think Mr Grey was a werewolf.” You told him and he chuckled.


“Yeah but werewolves are better, let me tie Isaac up and show you.” Derek smiled when your eyes widened and you blushed.


“Oh wow Derek that was just bad.” Isaac mumbled as he rubbed the back of his head. “Besides, (Y/N0 should be tied up so I can roam freely.”


Keep reading

Conversations you’ll most likely have with Wade Wilson

(A/N): I haven’t written one of these in forever but then I was thinking about it and Wade showed up in my mind so take this lil thing


“(Y/N), I was thinking, what if we made our own chimichangas?” 

“Do I trust you enough in my kitchen to do that?”

~

“If I figured out how to do an upside down Spiderman kiss would you willingly participate?” 

“Wade, the last time you tried you fell and broke your neck, we’re not starting this again,” 

~

“Wade Wilson a sub, huh?” 

“Don’t mock me, I can tell you’re mocking me,” 

~

“(Y/N), my skin hurts, it all hurts,” 

“I’m so sorry Wade, I don’t know- I don’t know what to do to help,” 

~

“I was once told I looked like an avocado had sex with another avocado,” 

“Well…that’s creative…” 

~

“Wade, we’ve been over this, you don’t have to hide behind a mask when you’re around me,” 

“I’m afraid one of these days you’re gonna wake up and realize how much I look like a monster,” 

~

“One of these days I want you to meet Eleanor, I think she’d really like you,” 

~

“I swear to god Wade if I wasn’t dating you you’d be dating Peter,” 

“I don’t think Tony approves of me so I’m going to have to say no to that statement,” 

~

“Aren’t they so beautiful?” 

“Wade, it’s 3 in the morning, who are you talking to?” 

“The readers,” 

“The who?”

“Nothin’, just go back to bed,” 

~

“God bless america!” 

“Wade, you’re canadian, stop with this nonsense,” 

~

“Why do you love me?”

“Because you’re beautiful inside and out, plus, who else is going to put up with my crazy,” 

~

“You’re insecure, don’t know what for-” 

“I look like a volcano exploded on the moon that’s why,” 

~

“Your ass is lookin’ fine today Wade,” 

“Trust me, I know,” 

~

“Wade we have spent almost a grand in mexican food this month,” 

“So I’m guessing that if I asked for tacos tonight you’re gonna say no?”

~

“Oh my god Wade! Don’t ever do that again!” 

“(Y/N), I’m fine, really, It’s just a little scratch,” 

“Wade your arm is actually missing shut the hell up,”

~

“If you ever so casually chop your fingers off again I swear I’m going to withhold sex from you for a week,”

~

“Did you know I love you?”

“Mhm,” 

“The voices in my head love you too,” 

“…Wade what the hell,” 

~

“Wade this is so gross, I can’t do this,” 

“Come on (Y/N) just stitch me up and I’ll be good as new- If you throw up into the gaping hole in my chest I will never forgive you,” 

~

“Wade I feel sick and If you don’t stop trying to pet me with that broom I swear I’m going to rip your hands off,” 

~

“I can’t believe you tried to use a fucking tide pen-” 

“I was young and inexperienced god,” 

~

“I think I got the suit wet with my blood and now I can’t get it off of me and I need help,” 

~

“So I may be a little late tonight, I’m kinda in the middle of somethin’,” 

*Casual sounds of screaming and gunshots in the background*

“Fine but I’m not making your chimichangas so you’re going to have to pick them up,” 

~

“I like you better without the mask,” 

“Do you now?”

“Yeah, You got a pretty nice face,” 

~

“I’ll love you till the end of time,” 

“Well you keep up with all this vigilante shit your time is running out buddy,”

“So…do you love me back or what?”

~

“If I have to come pick you up from a disappointed Fury one more time I may never take you out for food again,” 

~

“We don’t deserve you,” 

“Yeah you do buddy,” 

When Duty and Desire Meet Chapter 4

Art by @edendaphne , words by moi!

Summary: After their accidental kiss on Valentine’s day, both Marinette and Chat Noir have to deal with the emotional fallout of their actions.

Read on AO3
Read on tumblr

~

Valentine’s Day Part 2

“So, let me get this straight,” Alya said, leaning back against Marinette’s desk chair and steepling her fingers. Beside her, on a little table-cushion Marinette had made, Tikki slept soundly, having already heard the story a thousand times over. “You’re in love with Chat Noir.”

“You already knew that,” Marinette groaned from her chaise, hugging a cushion to her chest and leaning back like a Freudian patient. Lord knows she was about three sentences away from a therapy-inducing hissy fit regardless, so it was probably prudent of her to be lying down in such a way. She was preparing for her inevitable breakdown that’s all. It was the smart thing to do.

And she rarely did the smart thing nowadays it seemed, so she really needed this.

“You’ve been in love with Chat as Ladybug for like a bajillion years,” Alya continued, ignoring Marinette as she continued to rehash pointless details. Details which made Marinette want to bludgeon herself to death with her cushion.

It was most likely impossible to do such a thing but she was never one to back down from a challenge. Death by cushion- she’d find a way.

“Yes. We’ve already established that,” she replied through gritted teeth, said cushion slowly creeping up to cover her face.

“But last night you kissed him by accident,” Alya said.

“Uh-huh.”

“As Marinette.”

“That is correct sir,” Marinette wiggled a finger.

“And he gave you a rose and kissed you back.”

“Tru’ dat.”

It was indicative of Marinette’s deteriorating mental state that she’d said “Tru’ dat”. She’d never said “Tru’ dat” in her whole life.

“I see,” Alya nodded a few times. The fact her tone had remained neutral the whole time was doing nothing to help Marinette’s poor nerves, and so she swung her legs over the side of her chaise, sitting up to get a better view of Alya’s twinkling eyes. A sense of dread settled in Marinette’s stomach. Alya’s eye-twinkles were never a good thing, at least when they were directed towards her.

I see?! Is that all you have to say? Seriously?! I thought you’d be freaking out right now, I mean I’m freaking out but then I ALWAYS freak out. You not freaking out is making me freak out harder! Can you please freak out with me? Join me in the freak out zone already!” Marinette blabbed, waving her arms and promptly dropping the cushion to the ground.

Alya said nothing, instead choosing to raise an eyebrow at her and cross her legs. At least she’d stopped steepling her fingers, Marinette thought gruffly.

After a short pause, Alya finally spoke, but her voice wobbled and strained unnaturally, her lips thinned in a way that was entirely too suspicious. “Firstly, stop saying freak out, secondly I’m not freaking out because this is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

She barely made it to the end of her sentence before she doubled over and descended into giggles.

It was in that moment that Marinette realised Alya’s peculiar behaviour had been due to her hiding her amusement, and she felt fully justified in yanking the cushion from its position on the floor and hurling it towards her supposed ‘best friend forever.’

Unfortunately, Alya dodged the fluffy projectile with ease.

“Come on, this is serious! I’m in hot water here!” Marinette cried, crossing her arms across her chest.

“When are you not though? Let’s be real,” the redhead shot back with a wry grin, twirling in the chair and kicking backwards to check her hair in the small vanity mirror on Marinette’s desk. The sight made Marinette relax a little. Alya only checked her hair with such scrutiny when she was seriously contemplating something.

Suddenly missing the comforting embrace of the cushion, Marinette flopped down once more. As her back hit the large pillows adorning her chaise, she let out a long sigh and all the fear, the panic, the fight, left her in one fell swoop. Only tiredness and uncertainty remained.

“How am I going to face him?” she whispered. Her head tilted towards her small, round window, to the afternoon sun beaming down in a total antithesis to her feelings. She wondered where Chat Noir was at that moment.

Did she cross his mind?

Over the years Marinette had asked herself that question more times than she could count. But it was different now. Now she wondered if Chat thought of her, of Marinette, not of Ladybug. Did he dwell on it- how they’d kissed? She had. She’d thought about it all night, until exhaustion had finally overcome her and she’d woken up late, cold, wanting something she could barely comprehend.

For years, she’d thought about what it would mean to kiss Chat Noir, Dark Cupid incident aside considering she couldn’t even remember it.

A small, involuntary whimper left her when she recalled the night before. The kiss had been an accident… at first. But the second she felt Chat’s lips press into hers was burned into her memory, playing over and over again. The moment he returned her kiss had ignited something dormant inside her and she felt raw, emotions exposed and unlocked, with nowhere to hide.

She considered her question again. How on earth could she face him as Ladybug, knowing what she did, knowing him the way he didn’t know he knew her (and god wasn’t that sentence confusing in and of itself)?

For God’s sake Marinette, it was a peck of a kiss at the most, pull yourself together!

“You’ll figure it out.”

Alya’s voice sounded lightyears away, so stuck was Marinette in her own musings. She jumped, a little sheepishly, and realised she hadn’t noticed Alya coming over to her until the spinning desk chair was pressed right by the chaise. The next moment, Alya’s hands were in her hair. Having thoroughly fixed her own short curls, she now concentrated on the silky strands of Marinette’s loose locks, braiding little plaits as if they were children at a sleepover.

Marinette let her. Two perfectly groomed heads were better than one.

“You think you can talk to him about it? As you I mean, not Ladybug,” Alya suggested, quickly clarifying her meaning whilst tugging the red ribbons loose from Marinette’s dark hair.

Snorting in response, Marinette couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Talk? To Chat? The very idea…

“Yeah sure, let me just tweet at him Ayla. Hashtag balcony make-outs,” she giggled, feeling a little better as her hair fell around her shoulders.

Foregoing the braids, Alya reached up and began tying something new into Marinette’s hair, tutting in disapproval. “Slide into the DM’s at least girl, I raised you better than that.”

They shared a laugh, settling into a comfortable silence as Alya worked on both sides of her hair. Marinette sat back and mulled over her options. Truth be told she didn’t have many. She couldn’t talk to Chat, after all it wasn’t likely he’d be back and she had no idea who he was in real life. The notion that she could talk to him as Ladybug, thus revealing herself, made her rapidly descend into a panic so sharp that she quickly pushed that thought to the side.

Really there was nothing else to do but call it what it was. A blip. A crazy alignment of stars which had given her a taste of everything she’d wanted for the past four years, a reminder that it was probably all she was going to get.

She tried not to let the disappointment settle in her bones, yet it was fruitless. Her chest ached as though a hole had been carved there.

Suffice to say it was a familiar ache where Chat was concerned, but it was bigger now.

“There. Done,” Alya pulled back, pleased with her work, and Marinette stood. Stepping over to the vanity mirror, she leaned down to check her reflection. “Matching colours for you and the bae,” she teased, eyebrows wiggling from underneath her rounded glasses.

Marinette threw the cushion at her again, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction as it smacked her right in the face.

At the very least, she had the Gaming Club that night, that would provide a very welcome distraction.

***

Adrien was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Which was ironic, considering he’d joined the Gaming Club to avoid that exact thing from happening.

“I can’t do this, I’m going to cancel,” he whimpered, hiding out in the bathroom a floor above their usual meeting place like the coward he was.

“So cancel,” Plagg shrugged, busy amusing himself with unfurling a roll of toilet paper- as per his usual hobby.

“I can’t cancel!” Adrien replied, horror struck as he gazed at himself in the mirror. His fingers gripped the sides of the sink so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Are you insane?!”

“So don’t cancel,” Plagg’s disinterested monotone was really starting to grate on him. “Honestly kiddo what do you want me to say and will it get me food faster?”

The resounding groan from Adrien’s throat was so despairing in nature that he was afraid he’s start rumours of a ghost haunting the building. He leaned on his elbows, burying his face into his hands.

Stupid. He’d been so, so, stupid. And reckless! Totally reckless. What had he been thinking?!

It was worth it though, a small, unchecked part of him thought. Adrien squashed it flat in an instant. After all there was no time to consider the fluttering in his chest, the pleasant swoop of his stomach. Now was the time to face the consequences of his actions. His incredibly foolish, totally moronic actions.

Because, although a part of him ignited, burned in the best possible way, at the memory of Marinette’s lips against his own, another part felt thoroughly ashamed. It felt like he was tricking her in some way. Granted that had never been his intention. His plan had been simple. Leave the rose on her balcony for her to discover. She’d never know it was him and be happy at the gift from a secret admirer. Obviously, things hadn’t worked out the way he planned, though he should have anticipated that.

When had things ever gone the way he planned?

He needed to apologise to her, as Chat, and he was going to do so that night in fact. But before that Adrien needed to pretend, he needed to lie, to Marinette. To the girl he loved. He needed to act like he hadn’t heard her soft sigh, felt the warmth of her skin and the taste of her cherry-blossom lips. He had to fake it, act like it had never happened.

He had to pretend he didn’t desperately want it to happen again.

The idea of being so fake made him ill, and so he placed his hands under the cold water tap to splash his face, allowing the iciness of the water to penetrate his senses and offer him some much-needed clarity.

It didn’t really work but it was the best he could do.

When he entered the Gaming Club, Plagg tucked securely inside his jacket pocket, he was relieved to see Marinette talking to other people. He could barely look at her, the meagre glimpse he’d gotten from across the room had sent his heart cartwheeling down the corridor and somewhere into the next arrondissement.

Not wanting to look suspicious, and fully admitting that he was stalling for time, Adrien wandered over to the desk where Nino was hooking up an old Nintendo console for one of their signature Mario Kart nights.

Mario Kart…Marinette…partners… sitting close together… oh no.

“Hey bro!” Nino chirped, offering Adrien a fist to bump, clearly not noticing how the blood had completely drained from his friend’s face. “Everything ok?”

“H-hey! Everything’s good!” The first lie of the evening. How could Adrien have forgotten it was a Mario Kart night? More importantly, how was he going to survive the evening now? Sitting next to Marinette, shoulders pressed together, watching her tongue poke out in concentration like it normally did? How could he concentrate on anything knowing how close he’d been to said tongue the night before?

Grow up Adrien! You aren’t some horny teenager and Marinette isn’t a prize to be objectified. Show her some respect already!

If Nino had thought Adrien’s reaction was strange, he didn’t show it. Together they settled into an easy conversation, Adrien helping his friend set up the old console. Focusing on such a menial task did wonders for his nerves. He was almost starting to feel normal. Almost.

Of course, just as he was beginning to relax, Marinette had to tap him lightly on the shoulder.

She might as well have given him a 1.21 gigawatt electric shock, given his reaction to both was about the same. If he’d been Chat Noir at the time, his superpowers might have actually propelled him through the ceiling.

“A-Adrien?” Marinette tilted her head, taken aback by his startled shriek. “Are you ok?”

Subconsciously, Adrien’s hand reached up and he clutched his chest, fingers burying into his jumper as if it would cure the frantic beating of his wild heart.

Because she was there, right in front of him. Marinette. The girl he’d kissed last night.

His eyes flicked down to her lips before he could help himself.

“Adrien?”

The second time her voice permeated through his cloudy mind, something snapped inside of him. It was as if he were a character in a film, once played in slow motion, now fast-forwarding.

“Hey!” he cried, louder than he intended, and the people around him turned to stare. He looked at her eyes instead, with far more intensity than normal, mainly because he was so intent on not looking at her lips any more. “Marinette! It’s my friend- Marinette! My good friend, I’m good! How are you? You good- good? Yeah, I’m good, friend. How are you? Did you have a good Valentine’s day?”

WHAT?! Adrien’s brain-filter kicked in far too late, but began screaming at him nonetheless. Why would you ask her that? WHY?! You know how it went! YOU WERE THERE!

Marinette blinked, and it proved just how far gone he was that he found her blinking adorable.

Her blinking.

“Umm,” she blushed, unsure of what to say and, honestly, Adrien couldn’t blame her. He sounded insane even to his own ears, and he’d just asked her something quite private. Actually, he was surprised she wasn’t berating him for it. Then again, she thought he didn’t know about her encounter with Chat Noir.  His words may have seemed innocent to her ears.

What a mess Adrien had gotten himself into, and it only seemed to grow worse with every bit of word-vomit he expelled.

(Was it bad that he felt a tiny bit of pride at her blushing? Probably. But he was going to hell anyway so he might as well enjoy the slow descent at least a little bit.)

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Marinette glanced baffled at Nino, whom Adrien could see shrugging from his peripheral vision.

But he couldn’t care less.

Because he’d just noticed her hair. Or, more specifically, how she was wearing it.

In place of the red ribbons usually tied into her loose black locks, were two green ones instead. Vivid green. Chat Noir green.

His brain collapsed in on itself.

“I’m good-good too.”

Marinette was teasing him. She was grinning and she had green ribbons in her hair and Adrien was going to DIE.

“Good! That’s good!”

Great. He’d always wanted to die sounding like a partially strangled mongoose.

Marinette, mercifully, took pity on him and waved a controller in his face, offering him a place in the first race of the evening. He sighed, relaxing a little, but only a little. Gaming was fine. It was a welcome distraction, as long as he didn’t sit too close to her he’d be fine (who was he kidding? Of course he was going to sit close to her). At least, when he was focused on blue shells and Bullet Bills his brain couldn’t fixate on the meaning behind Marinette’s ribbons, if there was any hidden symbolism he was missing.

Suddenly the thought of seeing her that night, of apologising, seemed that much more dangerous- forbidden almost. But he had to do it. He owed it to her as her friend. Even if that’s all he could ever hope to be.

Nino still hadn’t finished setting up, and a few other members began helping him in their eagerness to get started. As a result, Adrien found himself more alone with Marinette than ever.

They sat down on the floor, controllers in hands, side by side. Their shoulders brushed, like they always did.

Adrien swallowed, wishing he’d worn a t-shirt instead of the woollen monstrosity currently overheating him.

He was fairly sure he was going to lose the game spectacularly.

His fears were proved right when, later that evening, Marinette’s knee brushed against his own and he ended up sending Donkey Kong careening off the end of Rainbow Road.

It was going to be a long night.

***

For the fifteenth time that evening, Marinette called herself an idiot.

Because she was an idiot. An idiot for standing on her balcony, an idiot for hoping lightning would strike twice in the same spot, an idiot for following her heart…

Tightly wrapping her cardigan around her, she gazed out into the mocking skyline. The bitterness of the cold February air was nothing compared to the bitterness she felt building up like sludge in her chest. Bitterness in her fortunes, bitterness in her decisions, bitterness in her own feelings.

Distantly, Marinette thanked the stars that at least it wasn’t as cold as it usually was. She was thankful she had a tiny shred of dignity left at least- that she wasn’t freezing to death in the vain hope that Chat Noir would show up again.

She reached up, fingers brushing against her lips, and remembered.

Furious with herself, Marinette shook her head, as if the rough gesture would expel all the unwanted memories from her mind. Honestly what was she doing acting like a silly sixteen-year-old with a crush? Again?! It was desperate, obsessive, ridiculous-

And totally in character if she was being honest with herself.

She needed a break. A breather. A respite from her own whirlwind emotions regarding the man in the black mask, the man who’d held her heart for longer than she cared to admit to anyone- not even Alya.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Marinette let out one last frustrated sigh before turning on her heels and making her way back to her room. Maybe her room would be less of a reminder, would save her from her torment.

But, as usual, fate had other plans for her.

Because, of course, Chat Noir happened to be standing there as if he’d suddenly popped into existence.

The shock of seeing him sent Marinette stumbling backwards with a cry, tripping over a flowerpot and tumbling to the ground.

“Whoa!” Chat called, rushing forward to catch her just in time. One hand gripped her flailing wrist, the other pressed against the small of her back as he pulled her towards him.

For a moment, both of them froze in place. Chat’s fingers splayed across her back, and she briefly felt the edges of his clawed-gloves scratching gently against the fabric of her cardigan. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine before she could control it.

Chat’s eyes widened and he stepped out of their half-embrace with awkward, jittery movements, casting his face away from hers. “Sorry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry I shouldn’t have startled you. I guess I have a bad habit.”

Bad habit huh? Marinette had one of those too.

The silence which settled on them both was heavy, uncomfortable, and borderline unbearable. It was laden with memories of the night before, swirling around them, echoing in their minds as though they were standing in an empty theatre, watching their mistakes projected on a screen with no means of escape.

Because it was a mistake… wasn’t it? She hadn’t meant to kiss him, he probably regretted kissing her back. That was why he was here- of that she was sure. To think he was here for any other reason was just asking for a broken heart.

But, oh god, it hadn’t been a mistake. Not to her. She couldn’t ever consider it to be such.

Finally, Marinette could take the silence no longer. Taking a deep breath, she fixed a smile onto her face, painted a picture of a girl who had herself together at least a little, and placed a hand on her hip.

“No rose tonight?”

Chat’s cat-ears twitched. He peered over at her with a puzzled frown before he realised she was teasing. Something dark crossed his eyes and Marinette forgot how to breathe. The look was gone before she could concentrate on it fully, and she found that he was smiling back at her.

“Err, n-no. No. That is- I mean- unfortunately not,” he replied with his signature bow. “But I do have something far more important.”

“Oh really?” Marinette squeaked, inwardly cringing at how lame she sounded. She’d wanted her voice to be sensual and teasing, but instead it sounded like she’d inhaled a ton of helium instead. Clearing her throat, she tried again, arching her eyebrow for good measure and all the while thrilled at the fact that he was simply there. Chat Noir was there. He’d come back to her. “What’s that?”

“An apology.”

Marinette’s blood ran cold.

“About last night,” Chat continued, shuffling from foot to foot, completely unaware of how Marinette’s body, mind, and heart had seized up all at once. “I feel like I made a terrible impression. I- well- I’m not the type of guy to do… what I did.”

From the depths of despair and panic, Marinette felt the faintest hints of confusion. She latched onto it. Confusion was better than rejection.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice small and vulnerable, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Well I’m not really a playboy or anything, despite what the media likes to speculate about me. I don’t kiss strangers on balconies. I guess, I didn’t want you to have the wrong impression about me.”

When Marinette hung her head, Chat felt a wave of regret wash over him. He’d practiced what he wanted to say, over and over again but it never seemed enough to fully explain himself- not without revealing to her that he was Adrien Agreste and he’d been lying to her this entire time. He was too afraid of the ramifications of that- so he needed to end this now- before he hurt her.

Damn it, he’d gotten so close though. So close to knowing what they could have- what they could be.

But it was a fantasy. Chat Noir was a large part of him, but it wasn’t all of him. The person he was behind the mask was locked away from Marinette, was a separate entity in her eyes.

Who was he fooling? They couldn’t be together. Not like this.

He had to try harder as Adrien and if she rejected him he would simply pick up the pieces of his broken heart. He would respect her, be her friend, move on, and certainly not use Chat Noir’s hero status as a means to trick her into loving him. She deserved better, deserved the world, even if he wasn’t the one to give it to her.

That’s why he had to leave. Right now. Being here, being this close to her, was crumbling his resolve. Every cute gesture she made was another step closer to his damnation. He had to leave before he said or did something he’d regret, before his principles were lost to the wind.

“It was Valentine’s day. I guess… it’s easy to get swept up in the romance of the day, right?” Marinette said. She was smiling, but the sparkle in her eyes was dulled somehow. Once again Chat’s attention was drawn to the green ribbons in her hair, as she quickly tucked a few strands behind her ears. He couldn’t bring herself to speak as she grew distant, deep in her own thoughts, and her shoulders raised. “But if we’re being honest Chat, I was worried you’d see me in a bad light too. Like- I mean- I’m not the kind of girl who kisses random celebrities and I’m certainly not the type to blab to the press about it either.”

“I didn’t ever think you were,” he uttered, swallowing thickly, and a little bit of sparkle returned to Marinette’s eyes. Her cheeks turned pink again.

Chat felt his claws digging painfully into his palms.

“Well… that’s a relief. I mean I always admired you,” Marinette stammered out the confession before she meant to, quickly covering her blunder with half-truths. “You know you saved me once- from an akuma. You didn’t notice me at the time, and it was years ago, but I never forgot.”

Chat felt as though he’d been physically struck by her words.

He’d saved her? He’d saved Marinette? And he hadn’t noticed her?!

“I wish I’d seen you,” he said before he could help himself. The rest of his desires remained unsaid, as new possibilities, new what ifs, formed in his mind- like an alternate reality.

Chat inwardly cringed. No way in hell was he going to get any sleep that night.

“I wish you’d seen me too,” Marinette admitted.

Chat’s hand was halfway to hers before he yanked it back, his heart beating wildly, his mind screaming at him to leave. The pull was almost tangible, magnetic, drawing him closer to her. It was dangerous, and he needed to leave.

“I hate to be a sundae, but I have to split!” he laughed, high and fake, all the while cringing at what was perhaps the worst pun he’d ever made. And that was saying something.

Marinette didn’t say anything, but laughed once.

Ok, she thought, maybe she was ridiculous, but he was equally so. Maybe that’s why she loved him so much.

She watched him make his way to the edge of the balcony and something stirred inside her, the raw feelings which had sparked when their lips had met woke from their slumber, and she reached out to touch his shoulder.

“Chat?” her voice matched the soft tremors echoing through her body, and she tried to remember to breathe. She couldn’t let him leave like this, she’d been so close. “How about…one last kiss?”

Chat stilled, statue-like. His lips parted, and Marinette panicked.

“I mean!” she corrected, face turning to flames, “I mean sorry that was dumb- so dumb. It’s just that I- I liked that kiss and I thought- I don’t know what I thought- but I wanted to-”

His lips crashed into hers, and the rest of Marinette’s sentence was lost forever.

Chat kissed her, kissed her with a resolve thoroughly destroyed and a heart so indescribably owned; owned by her, possessed by her, consumed by her. His hands were frantic, and Marinette matched him in every way as they pressed into each other. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, tangled in his hair, and pulled him closer.

Like he needed an excuse to get closer to her.

The pair of them moved apart to breathe, great shuddering breaths, and then their lips were together again- as neither of them could stand to be apart for a moment. Chat’s fingers slid from her hands to grip her hips, a primal, dark part of him triumphant as he heard a moan slip from Marinette’s mouth.

They stumbled backwards, towards the wall, and Chat pressed her against it, hands roaming her sides- never going too far- always listening to her reactions. Desire coursed through him, a need to please her, to make her moan again, without pushing too far.

She must have sensed him falter, sensed his caution, as a frustrated hum rose from the back of her throat, almost like a purr of her own. Her hands moved from his hair, gripping the bell around his throat, and she tugged him down towards her, kissing his neck.

Chat was having a hard time not passing out from that alone, but then she rolled her hips, making it so there wasn’t a sliver of streetlight between them, and he was fairly certain he died and was reborn on the spot.

Dangerous was the word whispering in his mind, the word he was ignoring as his hands cupped the sides of Marinette’s face, tilting her head back. She arched into him again, countering his movements like a dance, and he gasped.

It felt too natural, too perfect… almost…familiar.

Dangerous he thought as his tongue flicked against her lips.

Dangerous- he thought as her mouth opened and he was rewarded with another moan.

Stop. Stop before you can’t, he pleaded with himself as Marinette’s hands wrapped around his shoulders, her fingernails scratching against his neck.

He didn’t stop.

They kissed for what seemed like hours, passion moving from an explosive force to one of slow-burning sensuality, settling into a rhythm that was far too natural, but neither of them could bring themselves to mind.

It was a long time before Chat could bring himself to leave her, to stop kissing her. It was addictive, intoxicating, and filled with promise. For months his heart had been starved, yearning and wishing, and now it was real. Their kisses were real, her affections were real.

And so was her voice, ringing out in the coldness of the night, in answer to his question, “May I see you tomorrow night, Princess?”

There was a pause, both of them treading on thin ice, ice which slowly creaked and groaned beneath their feet.

“Yes,” she breathed, and the ice shattered, plunging them both into unknown depths.

(art to follow)

Suga Daddy: Part 6

Suga Daddy: Part Six

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word count: 6.5k

Genre: smut, angst


I was going to post this later but what the hellThis is in Yoongi’s pov, there will be more in his pov but I figured this needed to be done since I had some people freaking out over the last chapter. Thank you to anyone who has supported this story, it means the world to me. Anyway, hope you enjoy! (Also if you messaged me about how to make a masterlist, I forgot your username, i’m sorry! Message me again for the link it you still want it.)

Parts: one | two | three | four | five


Yoongi got to work and walked through the double glass front doors. The secretary, Gina, spoke to him. “Oh, Mr. Min, your friend Mr. Park is in your office to see you.”

Keep reading

Mister Hockey and the boy crying in the kitchen

(complete version)

Alternate Universe where Bitty is a figure skater at Samwell. He and Jack meet for the first time at #Epikegster 2014.

warning labels: Alcohol, mentioned homophobia, Parse. 


 Jack went down the stairs with a huff of annoyance. The first floor of the Haus was packed from wall to wall. Loup thumping music, laughter and yells that were barely tolerable from his room now seemed almost tangible, crushing him from all sides. He could already feel the beginnings of a headache.

 He pushed his way through and managed to reach the kitchen unscated. Only three guys were sitting at the table, loudly debating Plato’s cavern versus the Matrix, and another was leaning on the counter near the stove, muttering to himself.

Jack opened a cupboard, swore under his breath when he saw that it was empty of their usual mugs, glasses and bottles. He took a new red solo cup from the enormous pack available to all, and filled it with tap water, trying to ignore the guys at the table.

 ‘…aren’t you the most precious thing, baby…’

 Jack turned around. The guy next to the oven was muttering endearments with a southern drawl- but there was no one next to him. He wasn’t even holding a phone.

 Jack had a doubt. Was the guy talking to him?

 ‘Yes, you are lovely, a bit old, but I would love you, and take care of you, and create glorious things with you, oh sweetheart, if only…’

 The guy was not talking to Jack. He was talking to the oven.

 He was also, apparently, completely drunk.

 ‘… better things than pizza rolls, you can be sure of that, you sexy thing…’

 Jack was a moment away from heading back to his room when he heard a sob.

 ‘… but it’s not to be, pretty thing, you and I will have to go our own separate ways and- sniffle- get with our own lonely lives and - oh lord, I’m being ridiculous-’

 ‘Huh-’ started Jack. ‘Are you okay?’

 The guy turned around. He looked older than Jack expected. At least, he seemed to be over eighteen. Jack only had an impression of eyes and blond before he got the drunkest and fakest smile he ever saw in his life.

 ‘HI!’ said the boy. ‘Gosh, you’re big.’

‘… are you okay?’ repeated Jack.

 ‘Why, yes, of course! I’m peachy!’

 ‘You’re crying.’

 The guy seemed surprised by this fact. He dried his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie and made a dismissive gesture with his other hand.

 ‘Don’t mind me, sweetheart, I’m being silly.’

 ‘…You were crying,’ insisted Jack. ‘And talking to the oven.’

 ‘Well, no one else seemed to give her love, so I figured-’

 He stopped himself and looked at Jack.

 ‘You’re the Captain of the hockey team,’ he realised. ‘This is your house. This is your oven.’

 ‘…Yes? In a manner of speaking?’

 ‘What’s her name?’

 ‘Whose name?’

 ‘The OVEN,’ insisted the guy.

 ‘She- it doesn’t have a name?’

 ‘Blasphemy. If I had the chance to own such a lovely baby, I would name her something adorable! Like Daisy, or Betsy, and I would bake everyday, I would make pies and cookies and biscuits and-’

 He burst into tears.

 Jack threw a look around. The guys at the table were staring at them.

 ‘Dude, what’d you do to him?’

 ‘Nothing!’

 ‘D’you break up with him or something?’

 ‘No! We just met! He was talking about the oven- and then- and then-’

 He made a helpless motion towards the crying boy.

 ‘Maybe you should do something about it?’ suggested one of them.

 ‘Like what?’

 ‘Dunno. Something. To make him stop crying.’

 Jack hesitated. He thought about retreating to the safety of his room, where the music didn’t hurt his ears and blonde strangers didn’t burst into tears at the sight of a kitchen appliance.

 Awkwardly, he lifted a hand and patted the guy’s shoulder.

 ‘…there, there,’ he muttered, feeling like the most ridiculous man on Earth.

 He got several thumbs ups from the table residents. Which didn’t help his predicament at all. The boy was still crying.

 ‘Hey, hey, shh, don’t cry, everything is going to be okay…’

 ‘You don’t know that!’ wailed the blonde boy.

 ‘Okay, you’re right. Maybe, huh, what could make it right?’

 ‘I want to BAAAAAAAAAKE!’


(more under the cut!)

Keep reading

continental drift

(#21 off the Super Sappy Prompts list: “I’m better when I’m with you.”)

It’s an experiment based on a hypothesis based on a coincidence. They’re sharing a room on a roadie, and Nursey has been stuck in a dry spell for a week and a half now. The words just haven’t been coming the way he wants them to, and he’s starting to feel dried out, like all the creative juices have been wrung out of him by school stress and lack of sleep. Maybe it’ll never come back. Maybe he’s just done. All washed up by the tender age of twenty.

He’s not even trying to write as he watches Dex from across the room, tracking his fidgets and expressions as he sits hunched over his laptop frowning at the screen. It’s been a while since he and Dex have been in the same room for an extended period of time – a fortnight, about. Dex has been on a project, and Nursey started isolating himself about when the drought hit. But it was nice to sit with him on the bus today, and it’s nice to dump his bag near the bed and just relax, hands behind his head, and drink in his presence. It feels like something he’s been missing for far too long.

Nursey’s not sure what it is that makes the words start coming back, but it’s like a cloudburst on a hot day – a few lines, scattered drops against a parched sidewalk, then all at once he’s drowning.

He writes for four hours that night. His poems are full of microchips and anger, all about the gray morality of man against the rigidity of binary code, and by one a.m., when he should really be getting his beauty rest for tomorrow’s game, he’s starting to formulate a theory.

The theory is that maybe being in Dex’s proximity jumpstarts his creativity. In a phrase, Dex inspires him.

So Nursey resolves to test it.

Keep reading

A Babysitting Love Affair | Zach Dempsey x Reader

Genre: Romance, Fluff
POV: Reader’s/First Person

A/N: This was requested by anon! I hope you guys will like this as much as my first one. I kind of ramble on but please bear with me lol.
Request: could i request a zach dempsey x reader where the reader is babysitting zach’s sister, and zach haven’t met the babysitter yet and one day he goes home early and falls in love with her?

—–

“I’ll be there tomorrow morning Mrs. Dempsey.”

“Alright love, thank you so much!”

I smile as I close the door after Zach’s mom who asked me to babysit Zach’s little sister, May. She mentioned that she will have to go to Chicago for the weekend to take care of something and I was assigned to be May’s companion overnight since her brother is an extremely busy guy. The Dempseys are a close family friend, too bad I’m not really that close with Zach or May. It’s probably because we go to different high schools and it doesn’t really help that I can be anti-social at times. I know nothing about them, and they know nothing about me in return so it’s all good.

—–

The next morning

“I’ll be leaving now or else I’ll miss my flight! Thank you so much again Y/N for babysitting. I’ll see you girls tomorrow morning alright? Feel at home love, my number’s on the fridge if you need me and I left money for any emergency. Zach won’t be here until dinner tonight. He has basketball practice.” Mrs. Dempsey says as she bids goodbye to Zach’s little sister and I.

“Got it Mrs. Dempsey! We’ll see you tomorrow.” I finally say with a smile.

“Bye mom! I’ll be good, I promise!” May puts her right thumb out to her mom and waves goodbye.

“So, what do you want to do today, May?” I ask her as we’re left alone inside the house.

“Hmm, I don’t really have anything in mind. Oh wait I know! Let’s style each other’s hair.” She suggests with a gleam in her eyes; she looked so excited.

“Sure kiddo.” I reply with a smile and we proceed to the living room to watch TV. May got all of her hair accessories from her room for us to use. She decided that it’d be fun to start with my hair first and put them in pigtails and so she did. She chose these pink puffy hair bands to tie my hair. May had long, black and shiny hair which reminded me of Katniss Everdeen so naturally, I chose to put her hair in a fish tail braid.

“Wow Y/N, you’re really good at this!” she beams after her make over.

“Why thank you, Miss Everdeen.” I reply with a bow and she giggles in response.

A couple of hours later and it was almost lunch time. May wanted to order pizza and so we did. She didn’t like vegetables so we opted for a classic cheese pizza instead. A few minutes later and the doorbell rang, I ran to the door to open it, with the money in my left hand.

“Thank you so–” I begin to greet the pizza man but a ginormous, muscular guy hovered above me instead.

Keep reading

Mister Hockey and the boy crying in the kitchen


Here’s the first part of a fic- AU where Bitty and Jack meet for the first time at the EpicKegster. 

Note that the second part of this is not written yet, and I’m crushed under my to-do list, so don’t expect it soon and please don’t ask when the next part will come, I don’t know. But I wanted to share this with y’all, so I hope you enjoy. 

I apologise for errors, typos or weird sentence structure, all my editing power is and will be concentrated on my own novel, so ha. 

pairings and warnings: pretty much what you get from the canon





Jack went down the stairs with a huff of annoyance. The first floor of the Haus was packed from wall to wall. Loud thumping music, laughter and yells that were barely tolerable from his room now seemed almost tangible, crushing him from all sides. He could already feel the beginnings of a headache.

He pushed his way through and managed to reach the kitchen unscathed. Only three guys were sitting at the table, loudly debating Plato’s cavern versus the Matrix, and another was leaning on the counter near the stove, muttering to himself.

Jack opened a cupboard, swore under his breath when he saw that it was empty of their usual mugs, glasses and bottles. He took a new red solo cup from the enormous pack available to all, and filled it with tap water, trying to ignore the guys at the table.

‘…aren’t you the most precious thing, baby…’

Jack turned around. The guy next to the oven was muttering endearments with a southern drawl- but there was no one next to him. He wasn’t even holding his phone.

Jack had a doubt. Was the guy talking to him?

‘Yes, you are lovely, a bit old, but I would love you, and take care of you, and create glorious things with you, oh sweetheart, if only…’

The guy was not talking to Jack. He was talking to the oven.

He was also, apparently, completely drunk.

‘… better things than pizza rolls, you can be sure of that, you sexy thing…’

Jack was a moment away from heading back to his room when he heard a sob.

‘… but it’s not to be, pretty thing, you and I will have to go our own separate ways and- sniffle- get with our own lonely lives and - oh lord, I’m being ridiculous-’

‘Huh-’ started Jack. ‘Are you okay?’

The guy turned around. He looked older than Jack expected. At least, he seemed to be over eighteen. Jack only had an impression of eyes and blond before he got the drunkest and fakest smile he ever saw in his life.

‘HI!’ said the boy. ‘Gosh, you’re big.’

‘… are you okay?’ repeated Jack.

‘Why, yes, of course! I’m peachy!’

‘You’re crying.’

The guy seemed surprised by this fact. He dried his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie and made a dismissive gesture with his other hand.

‘Don’t mind me, sweetheart, I’m being silly.’

‘…You were crying,’ insisted Jack. ‘And talking to the oven.’

‘Well, no one else seemed to give her love, so I figured-’

He stopped himself and looked at Jack.

‘You’re the Captain of the hockey team,’ he realised. ‘This is your house. This is your oven.’

‘…Yes? In a manner of speaking?’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Whose name?’

‘The OVEN,’ insisted the guy.

‘She- it doesn’t have a name?’

‘Blasphemy. If I had the chance to own such a lovely baby, I would name her something adorable! Like Daisy, or Betsy, and I would bake everyday, I would make pies and cookies and biscuits and-’

He burst into tears.

Jack threw a look around. The guys at the table were staring at them.

‘Dude, what’d’you do to him?’

‘Nothing!’

‘D’you break up with him or something?’

‘No! We just met! He was talking about the oven- and then- and then-’

He made a helpless motion towards the crying boy.

‘Maybe you should do something about it?’ suggested one of them.

‘Like what?’

‘Dunno. Something. To make him stop crying.’

Jack hesitated. He thought about retreating to the safety of his room, where the music didn’t hurt his ears and blonde strangers didn’t burst into tears at the sight of a kitchen appliance.

Awkwardly, he lifted a hand and patted the guy’s shoulder.

‘…there, there,’ he muttered, feeling like the most ridiculous man on Earth.

He got several thumbs ups from the table residents. Which didn’t help his predicament at all. The boy was still crying.

‘Hey, hey, shh, don’t cry, everything is going to be okay…’

‘You don’t know that!’ wailed the blonde boy.

‘Okay, you’re right. Maybe, huh, what could make it right?’

‘I want to BAAAAAAAAAKE!’

Keep reading

I Thought We Already Weren’t (Peter Parker x Reader)

Request: anonymous asked:
Ooh I love angst!! Can you do something where the reader has a huge crush on peter but he likes Liz and he asks her out on date and he asks the reader for help with everything so she basically plans the whole thing for him and he keeps saying things like “wow ur such a good friend” and out of jealousy she asks Flash on a date and they start to go out and Peter says he’s not good enough for her and they get into a huge argument and deicde it’s better if they stop being friends…

Word Count: 2,413 (sorry, got carried away again)

Warnings: Angst

A/N: heyyy more angst! sorry this is quite late, but I finally figured out how I wanted this imagine to go. I did try to shorten it a bit since it is quite long, but I guess this is as short as it’s gonna get 😂 hope you like it, anon! ❤️❤️

Part 2   Part 3




“(Y/N)!” your name carried through the halls above the chatter of the student body. Eyebrows furrowed, you jerked your head out from your locker to see who was beckoning. You spotted Peter’s dark curls bobbing amongst the crowd towards you.

“(Y/N),” Peter gasped. He leant against the locker next to yours, breathing heavily.

You raised your brows in amusement. “Yes?” you asked, curious as to what would motivate Peter to run.

Peter swallowed, “I need your help.”

“With what?” you turned back to your locker to shove your math textbook inside and grab your jacket.

“Ummm… well… it’s about…” he lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper and leaned closer. “It’s about Liz.”

You tilted your head away from him slightly to hide the anguish that quickly flashed on your face. “What about Liz?” you tried to keep your voice steady and calm. A difficult feat, as you felt a pit drag your stomach and your breath catch high in your throat.

“I—I uh—well—I have a date with her,” he stammered

“What?!” you exclaimed, shocked. “Wow, Peter!” You tried to shove out any tone of sadness in your voice. You knew how much courage it must’ve taken this nervous but excited and eager romantic buzzing next to you.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“Did you just ask her?” you guessed.

“Yeah. Yeah I did,” his ecstatic state quickly turned into a more panicked one. “But I need your help. I have no idea what to do!”

“For the date?”

“Yeah!” Shutting your locker, you swung your jacket over your shoulder and headed for the school doors. Peter bounded after you. “Please, (Y/N)!” he pleaded.

You shoved the doors open, “Why aren’t you asking Liz, though? Isn’t the date with her?” You worried that that might’ve been a bit forward in revealing your subtle bitterness.

“Well, yeah but I—I wanted to surprise her. And I can’t ask Ned ‘cause I don’t wanna mess this up, I mean no offense to him, but you know—(Y/N), you’re my only other friend who can help me!” Your stomach twisted at that word. Friend.

“When is it?”

“Friday.”

You sighed, conflicted yet sympathetic. Here he was, the best friend you had slowly but undoubtedly fallen for, asking for your help with someone else. Of course you were jealous. Of course you were dejected and feeling a bit betrayed. But of course you were going to help him. Because, dammit, you were proud and happy for him, too.

After two years of daydreaming, confiding, and awkwardly trying, he had finally gotten courage and motivation to do something about it. You saw how he lit up when she merely looked his way, how he melted whenever she said something nice to him, how jittery and nervous he got whenever he was within a ten food radius of her. You weren’t about to take that away from him just because of your unrequited feelings; because before he was ever your crush, he was your best friend.

“Okay,” you replied. Hope and relief immediately washed out all desperation on Peter’s face. You couldn’t help but smile a bittersweet smile.  

“Really?!” he grinned.

“Yeah, yeah, of course!” you cheerfully affirmed. “Just, uh, come over later tonight so we can think of some ideas.”

“Thank you! Really, (Y/N), thank you so much!” Peter squeezed you in a tight hug that you half heartedly returned. He suddenly pulled away and reached for his phone. You already knew what it most likely meant, so you started past him.

“I’ll see you around seven?” you called back. Peter was already running the opposite direction.

“Uh yeah! Seven’s good!”


Groaning, you got up from your chair and stretched your arms above your head. How could simple chemistry equations somehow make your entire body ache?

You were about to plop back into your chair when a tapping came from your window. Glancing at the clock that read ten minutes past eight, you trudged over, unlocked it, and slid it up.

“Sorry I’m late; some nut job decided tonight was a good night to rob a jewelry shop.”

“Hm,” you nodded as you headed to your desk. Peter stumbled through the window, leaving it open for a quick getaway.

“Your folks home?”

“Nah,” you shrugged. “Both have meetings.”

Peter slipped his backpack off and slumped onto your bed. “So,” he rested his elbows on his knees, “Any ideas?”

You swiveled your chair around. “Not really,” you confessed. “Nothing’s really come to mind.”

Peter hung his head down, groaning, “What am I gonna do?”

“So… okay then. What do you want to do?” you inquired.

“I dunno! I was thinking maybe just dinner and a movie? Chill, not to much fancy expensive stuff…”

“No, no don’t do that. That’s typical, not surprising at all.”

“Ugh,” he muttered. “Has she ever said anything about like what her ideal date would be?”

“Don’t think so…” you racked your brain. You didn’t know Liz too well. Sure you’d shared some classes with her these past two years and had gotten to know her well enough. But you weren’t the best friend she’d confide to about relationships and dating. You also weren’t going to give up your ideal date for Peter to create for someone else.

You both sat in silence, thinking. There was a slight tension in the room that you both could sense, but it was hardly enough to make the setting awkward. You’d also never let it get to that point either.

“I know she likes picnics…” you offered. “Maybe you could get takeout from her favorite place and take her on a picnic somewhere?”

“Oh yeah…” Peter sat up. “That sounds cool!”

“And it’s not super expensive.”

“But do it kind of late-ish,” you added. “And maybe on the roof of a high building. So it’ll be darker and better for star gazing. Liz loves stars.”

“Yeah… yeah, yeah! That’s great; that’s awesome! Oh, okay okay! I got it,” Peter leapt up from your bed and raced over to embrace you once again. “Thank you, so much, (Y/N)! Thanks for being such a great friend and—and helping me and WOOH!” he whooped as he skipped to grab his bag. “I’m gonna go scope out some places…”

As he squeezed through the window you chuckled, “Okay…” That nagging feeling began to creep up on you, and you put your head in your hands. You knew the petty thoughts would begin to fill your mind soon.

You knew you shouldn’t feel jealous. You knew there was nothing you could do to change his mind. But you couldn’t stop it. You were mad at yourself for believing you could ever compete with a girl like Liz Allen. You hated having these feelings of envy and betrayal, because you knew they were futile. It was pointless; this was only going to make you feel even worse.

Okay, you told yourself. Calm down, stop thinking like that. Just be happy that he finally got his chance with Liz. Repeating this over and over didn’t help. Okay… Maybe the date will go bad— NO! No, God, why even think like that?! Okay, maybe the date will be okay but Peter will figure out he doesn’t really like her? Ugh why am I LIKE this?! You felt completely horrible when you realized you actually found solace in that last thought. Deciding you needed to just distract yourself before you could torment yourself any further, you turned back to your notebook with a sigh.


Four weeks and five dates later, wherever you saw Peter, there was Liz. Your one solace, your one hope had fallen through. Peter had begun to hang with you and Ned less and less as the weeks went by. His spontaneous midnight visits had stopped altogether, and sometimes wouldn’t even answer your texts for a good few days.

Distractions were helping less and less as well. No matter how many songs you blasted in your ear, or how many fanfics you poured over each night, or late night calls with Ned about any movie you two could find; the envy kept gnawing away at you. But poor sweet Ned. You finally broke and confided to him; keeping it in was just too much. And try as he might to help you try to get over it and keep you distracted and happy, you both knew nothing was enough.

It also didn’t help that Liz would often come to Peter when he was at his locker. Right next to yours. Even though they tried to keep their voices down to small murmurs, you could hear every sickening and sappy word pouring from their mouths.

“God, I think I love you.”

You froze, gripping the textbook as if it were your composure. That phrase had managed to slip through all the ambient noise and ruckus echoing through the hallway and reach your ears. How many times had you wished to hear those words from him, only for them to be meant for someone else?

Well you certainly didn’t hear much after that. You didn’t hear Liz’s reply, or Ned’s greeting, or your locker slam. The only thing that your ears registered was your booming heartbeat. You felt your whole body heat up, searing with anger and jealousy. You wandered away from your locker, away from them. Meandering through the crowd of students, you couldn’t think of where to go or what to do.

An obnoxious voice broke through the pulsing in your ear.

“Hurry up, move it, (Y/N)!” Flash complained as he breezed past you. “What’re you waiting for? Your imaginary boyfriend to become real?” he jeered.

A sudden drive and confidence took over you, fueled by the anger and jealousy coursing through your veins. You knew what you wanted. You wanted to make Peter hurt. Hurt like you were. And you knew just how to do it.

“Well that’s up to you, Flash!” you called. Flash whipped around, confused. It morphed into amused as you jogged over to him.

“What do you mean?” he crossed his arms.

“Pick me up, my place, Friday at seven,” you challenged. Flash’s face dropped into bewilderment. “Wear something nice,” you added, brushing past. “I expect to be wowed.” As you pushed open the school doors, smirking, you could perfectly hear the shock that rippled through the silence of the hallway. This was certainly one way to get over it.


*tap tap tap*

You startled up from your chair, not sure if you had really heard it. You went over to your window and opened the blinds revealing the red and blue figure. Sliding it open, you leaned out on your elbows, blocking him from coming in but opening yourself to conversation.

“Hey,” Peter breathed.

“Hey.”

He shuffled anxiously, tugging at the mask in his hands, “Can I talk to you?”

You shrugged, “I’m listening.”

“Why—” Peter took a deep breath. “Why’d you ask out Flash?” he timidly asked.

You stiffened. “Because.” Guilt started to take the place of resentment in your gut, but you shoved it away. You could tell he was concerned about you doing something so out of character and ridiculous on all accounts. However you refused to sway from your choice. You weren’t going to to back to sitting around moping about how he was with Liz.

“Because why?” he demanded.

“Because I can and I did.”

“But when were you interested in Flash?”

“When was it your business?”

“Since you’re my friend!”

You scoffed, hurt. “Am I?”

Peter squinted at you, “Y-Yeah. Wh—Why do you have to ask?”

“‘Cause it doesn’t feel like I’ve been!” you cried. The rest of your anger was spilling out, but with a different tone this time. This wasn’t a revenge thing or a spur of the moment vent-all-your-feelings session. This was everything that was buried deep, everything that wasn’t revealed to Ned, everything that really hurt.

“You’ve constantly ditched on stuff ‘cause you’d rather go to something else with Liz! You’ve left me and Ned hanging countless times. If it was because of Spiderman stuff, then I’d be more understanding, but it isn’t. You’ve just replaced your true friends with the girl you’ve been oogling for years!” your voice rose several octaves. “You never reply when we text, and you never answer when I need you or even when Ned does! So no, Peter, it doesn’t feel like I’m your friend anymore.”

Neither of you moved, too stunned by the words floating in the thick tension between you.

“So this is a jealousy thing.”

“What?!” you screeched. “That literally has nothing to do with what I just said—”

“No! No no no, it does!” Peter retorted. “You’re jealous because I’m spending more time with her, I get it—”

“No. You don’t.”

“No, I do! Look, I’m sorry if I’m not spending every waking moment with you guys like I used to, but it doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore.”

“NO!” you cried. “No, Peter! It’s not because we’re not hanging out as much, it’s because we’re not hanging out at all. You’re always so distant with us now and you ignore us and—”

“I don’t ignore you guys!”

“Uh, yeah you do—”

“If I did, then I wouldn’t know that you asked Flash out, and I wouldn’t be here asking why the hell you’d ever do that!”

“Again, what the hell does it matter to you?!”

“He’s a douche!” Peter flailed his arms. “He’s an arrogant, spoiled asshole who’s so insecure that he goes around teasing people. He even teases you, (Y/N)! And you asked him out?!” He howled. Peter took a step towards your window, and you withdrew a little. “He doesn’t deserve you, (Y/N), and you don’t deserve to put up with that piece of shit—”

“You know what?” you glared at Peter, seething, blood boiling for the second time that day. “Yeah, you’re right: he’s a piece of shit who only cares about himself. But I bet he’s still gonna be a better shitty friend than you’ve been this entire month.”

Peter took a step back, appalled at what he was hearing. He pursed his lips and dropped his eyes to the ground. “Maybe we just shouldn’t be friends anymore,” he whispered.

You reached up for your window and numbly slid it shut. Knowing he could still hear you, you muttered as you closed your blinds, “I thought we already weren’t.”

No more PDA for you...

I’ve been working at a hobby store for awhile now. Recently a 18yro high school girl(we will call her molly) started to come by and loiter. She would buy a snack here and there, but mostly she would walk around and bother people who are actually there to play board games, cards, RPGs etc. Now this didn’t really bother me, she was not a threat. I would usually be bothered if it was a stinky transient/drifter or a scumbag cheater (I have to run sanction Magic: the Gathering events) For the first couple months she was there is was meh, I was more concentrated about the store, but I started to notice she would take up tables to just vent about drama in her life and recently was bringing her boyfriend in the back rooms to cuddle and kiss. (I politely asked them to stop but nope)oh..hell no. That same day an older gentleman came in during that time, I did my usual greeting. (we will call him bob.)

me: hello sir, welcome! can I help you find anything?

Bob: I’m looking for my son?

Me: oh what is his name? (we will call him billy)

Bob: Billy

Me: okay let me call him out…Hello billy! your dad is here!(no answer)

Bob: he is with uh, Molly-lyn?

***Petty revenge***

Me: Ah…her…yeah they’re in the back making out…you better talk to your son, heard she is trouble.

Bob: oh…really? hm No worries, we will talk…

**fast forward to the end of my shift**, she approached me and and demanded what I said to Billy’s dad and that she just got dumped by billy via text. I actually was caught off guard and said…“uh…nothing” I left as soon as possible after that. she still comes to the shop though.

Dumped before valentines day.

Stress Relief

Brett x Reader

Warnings: sex, 18+ gif under cut , slight choking like not really but sort off


“Hey Brett.” One his team mates called to the wolf who followed the direction they were pointing in and spotted you arguing with a boy you’d hooked up with at a party a few nights before.

“Yeah, what?” He asked the team mate who frowned.

“Aren’t you two together.” The question had Brett rolling his eyes. He couldn’t exactly explain that you were both werewolves and used sex as a way to get through each other’s heat or to help each other to get back under control.

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anonymous asked:

Made up fic title: "Just The Tip" fandom, spn obvi

oh man. gotta go with the classic “sam is eavesdropping and hears some shit he REALLY didn’t want to hear but turns out dean & cas are just trying to figure out this fucking ikea dresser”

interior: bunker. sam has come back earlier than expected from a library run because it turns out KSU did not, in fact, have the documents he was looking for. he tried calling but dean doesn’t answer his fucking phone, apparently.

so sam is walking through the bunker, texting eileen, seeing if she wants to skype later. he’s been working on his ASL - he thinks he might be able to string a few sentences together without eileen laughing at him. and he passes dean’s room and he hears - 

“Jesus, Cas! Not so hard! You gotta just - ease it in.”

sam double-takes. and then double-takes again. because - what the fuck.

“We tried that already,” Cas says, exasperated. “It doesn’t fit. It just needs some extra force.”

“It only doesn’t fit because you’re putting it in the wrong place!”

what, sam thinks, the actual fuck. and then he thinks, where the hell else would cas be putting it? he leans closer to the door, cracked open an inch. he’s a masochist like that.

“Fine. You show me how it’s done, then.”

“Gimme that. Okay. Look - this is the right hole.”

“Oh my god,” Sam whispers, and wishes he could walk the fuck away but it’s like staring at a car crash - he can’t look away. and - jesus. he’s listening to the culmination of years and years and years of sexual tension and pining and being the third wheel to their ridiculous teenager bullshit. 

“And you just - push it in slowly?”

“Well–no. You gotta screw it in. Just the tip first, you see?”

screw it in???? what the fuck?

sam leans closer. because, again: he’s a goddamn masochist.

there’s a silence which even sam can tell is cas sulking. “You’re better at this than I am.” He sounds accusatory.

“No shit. I have a lot more experience than you. It’s okay, bud - you’ll get used to it.”

“Will you help teach me?”

“I mean, Sam’s pretty good at this too - “ WHAT THE FUCK, sam thinks, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK “ - but yeah, I’ll teach you. What the hell, maybe we could make a group effort out of it.”

sam loses his balance and falls through the fucking door. because dean just - did dean just - did he - offer a threesome? 

except. he crashes through the door and into the floor, and dean and cas are staring at him, and they’re fully clothed, sitting on the floor, and that’s - a bundle of shelves and … Ikea instructions?

“Um,” Sam says. 

“Dude, you could have just come in like a normal person,” Dean says.

“Are you alright?” Cas asks. He looks very concerned for Sam’s physical and mental wellbeing. 

“I thought - “ Sam starts, and falters. He pushes himself back up to his feet and clears his throat. “I tripped,” he says, lamely. “Um. What are you doing?”

“Building a dresser,” Dean says, like Sam is an idiot.

“But,” Sam says, “you both already have dressers?”

“Well, yeah. But there’s not enough space in my room for two.” Dean is looking very studiously at the instructions. His cheeks are very pink. 

Sam opens his mouth and closes it again. “What?” he asks.

Dean shrugs. “Cas is moving into my room.” He won’t look at Sam. “We’re, um. Giving it a trial run.”

“Oh,” Sam says. 

Dean bristles - actually bristles, shoulders squaring, a scowl crossing his face. “That’s it?” he demands. “’Oh’? If you have a problem with it, you can just fucking tell me!”

“No, no - I don’t! I don’t! I swear, I’m super happy for you guys, I just - I thought I was hearing - I mean - ”

Sam falters. Then, weakly, he says, “I mean … ‘just the tip’?”

There’s a long silence.

“I don’t understand,” Cas says. Dean’s pink face has turned brilliantly red.

“You were listening to us because you thought we were having sex?” Dean shouts.

Sam is fast. Dean is faster. Dean’s self-righteous shouting echoes through the bunker for hours.

random harry concept™

You’re at a party talking to some of your shared friends.

And Harry is next to you, his hand around your hips softly but lowkey protectively.

And he has a drink in the other hand, his ring-clad fingers wrapped around the round class, leaving smudges in the condensation, the metal of his jewelry clinking against the glass. He smells like Dolce Gabana, wine and smoke bc he took a swig from Ben’s cig.

And you’re talking about school and life and stuff and he leans in and his hair tickles the back of your jaw and ears. It’s starting to grow back out, little curls struggling to wrap around his ears.

His breath is cold from the ice in his drink as he talks. “I’m gonna go talk to Alexa for a bit, yeah? Haven’t seen her in a while.”

And you murmur a quick “okay,” feeling the warmth of his body slide away from you but you don’t worry bc you know he’ll be fine.

After a while you glance around the flat to see where he is, spotting him at the bar surrounded by a couple of people and tipping back tequila shots with someone like a pro.

It’s a race, apparently, as you see a row of shots laid out before him and he tosses them back as fast as possible, his jaw clenching and face scrunching up at the sour taste, but he shakes it off with a shudder of his broad shoulders. He flips the tiny glass upside down on the marble counter, reaching for a blue snowman cup filled with orange juice.

He’s going at it hard– it’s evident even from far away. Sweat has matted his hairline and beads his forehead, his lips a cherry pinkish red, his cheeks flushed lightly and his pupils are blown out of proportion.

The people around him cheer him on, one of his family buddies filling up more glasses and sliding them towards him. The guy opposite him is tipping them back hella hard, too, being ahead of Harry by three hits.

Alexa is standing behind him, massaging his shoulders and giving him a rough pep talk. You see Harry nod his head hazily, smiling all watery and drunk off his ass as his fingers go up to his shirt, popping the first three buttons air out some heat.

He then downs two shots, making an audible grunt as he slams them down on the tabletop, the cheering around him swelling. You smile softly because it’s good to see him so happy and carefree. He deserves some hardcore fun after all his hard work on the movie.

Some more time passes as you talk Christmas plans with Gemma, who had arrived right after Harry had won the tequila contest.

You turn your head to check up on him again and your words lodge in your throat.

He’s gripping a booze bottle by the neck, a sparkler shoved into the top. Alexa is next to him, smoking a cig, and to your horror, you see him stick his tongue all the way out, making a beeline for the end of the lit cigarette. When Alexa backs up, laughing, shaking her head at him, he veers off course, his sights set on the crackling sparkler instead.

“Harry!” You call over the thumping music, scrambling up from the couch with a quick apology to Gemma and pacing towards him.

You get there just in time to snatch the popping firework off the bottle, putting it out and setting it on the nearest table.

“Have you gone mental?” You screech quietly, prying the booze from his big, clumsy hand as he pouts his ruby lips and puts on his puppy dog eyes.

“Y/NNNNNN,” he slurs, stomping one of his feet and coughing thickly, “s'just some fun, sweetheart. Liven up, would ya?”

“Swallowing a goddamn firecracker and licking a lit cigar is your idea of fun?” You snort in disbelief, grabbing at his arm as he teeters on his feet.

“Ooooh,” Alexa hums dangerously, chuckling as you scold him. “Someone’s in big trouble.”

You roll your eyes at her playfully. “You have no idea.”

You tug Harry away from the bar, heading towards the first bathroom you see. He stumbles over his feet behind you, whining half-heartedly. At one point you pass Sandy, who whistles over at you both.

“You gon’ get a spankin’, Styles? Been a bad boy?”

Harry gives him a toothy grin, throwing the man a lazy wink. “You know it, mate.”

He then proceeds to slap his rear several times, releasing a high-pitched moan. “Oh, baby, just like that! I’ve been such a bad baby boy! Whip me into shape, please. I’m begging you!”

His friends burst into a roar, causing your cheeks flush.

“Come on, you bugger.” You tug him harshly, continuing your journey to the loo.

The door swings open and you shove him through it, locking it behind you. He wobbles over to lean on the marble counter, knuckling at his wide eyes as he giggles messily.

The bathroom is spotless, much to your surprise. Alexa had really gone all out for this party. You grab a linen towel from a big basket near the jacuzzi bathtub, wetting it under the faucet and drifting towards Harry, who is distracted childishly with his dog tag, tugging and twisting at it.

You dab the warm cloth onto his forehead, wiping the dried sweat and sliding it down his jaw and around his mouth to rid of the residue of liquor.

He behaves obediently, reaching up to play with the ends of your hair, tugging at it every now and then, his eyes quickly flitting up to yours to see your reaction. You wipe down his neck and the exposed bit of his chest until he’s fairly clean. You toss the towel in the dirty hamper, buttoning up his shirt once again and finger combing his floppy mop of semi-curls, then massaging his ears in small, long, circular motions.

He hums appreciatively, blinking sluggishly down at you and grinning like a fool. “S'good. You’re good, I mean. With your hands. You’re good with tour hands.”

“Oh, am I really?” You cock an eyebrow, amused at the suggestiveness of his words, even though he didn’t mean them in such way.

He nods his head quickly a few times, not catching on immediately, but the idea eventually dawns on him, eyes going even bigger. “Oh, wait! No, I didn’t– I, like…Not like that or anything! I meant it as in you’re good at massaging my ears, not my dick.”

“So I’m not good at handies, is what you’re saying?” You pout with fake hurt, looking down at your feet.

“What? No! No, you’re amazing, darling! You’re amazing at getting me off! It’s just that, at this moment, I didn’t mean it like that. But you aren’t bad, I swear. You’re real good at massaging everything– anything– I just–” He babbles aimlessly, seeming like a deer caught in headlights.

It makes you smile. “I know, dumbass. I know what you mean.”

“Okay, good,” he sighs in relief, looking down as you sift your fingers with his. “You’re good.”

You nod slowly, kissing his forehead with care. He squeezes your hands gently, melting into your body as you kiss all over his face.

“You’re…so good to me.” He glubs, his tongue suddenly losing feeling inside his mouth. His eyes slowly trail up to yours, his teeth worrying the inside of his bottom lip. “You’re…” Harry takes one of your hands, setting it over his belt buckle. “Incredible.”

You get the memo right away, your fingers toying with the metal bit of the accessory. “Yeah? How incredible?”

His breathing is hitching in his throat, his stomach making faint churning noises as the alcohol settles into his system. A hiccup jolts his shoulders, his eyebrows scrunching at the spontaneous motion. Your hand is already worked into his pants, fingers cupping him over his briefs. He’s hot and heavy over the fabric, twitching with excitement.

You grope him roughly, repeating your question. “How incredible, H?”

His eyes flick up and down between your actions below and your eyes up top, dopily picking at the nails on his long fingers. “Really incredible. Don’t–” he swallows heavily, chipping off a large piece of the black nail polish you had helped him coat on a couple days back. “Don’t deserve you sometimes.”

You’re movements stop and an objecting whimper strings out from him immediately.

“What d'you mean you don’t deserve me?” You question quietly, reaching your free hand up to cup his jaw, your heart melting when he cradles it into your palm.

“S'like…” He trails off, sniffling faintly and you remember how sentimental he can get when he gets drunk.

“It’s like what, baby?” You nudge gently, smiling up at him with soft encouragement.

Harry’s breathing becomes more controlled as he switches hands now, all of the nail lacquer chipped clean off his right hand. “Can you…can you keep going?”

“Hm?”

“Can you…” He clenches his thighs, bringing your attention down to his swollen prick. You hadn’t realized how badly it had started to throb. He looks away shyly, cheeks and neck strawberry red as he asks you to keep jerking him off.

“Sure, Har. Feels nice? Helps you think a little better?” You dip inside his underwear, tugging his wet shaft out of its confinements and pumping it slowly.

“Y-Yeah,” He sighs shakily, hands trembling. He throws his head back against the light, lavender wall, the muscle inside his jaw ticking. “Oh, fuck yeah…”

“Now what’s this whole–” You give him a small squeeze just below the head, thumbing a couple of times over his leaking hole, just how he likes it, “thing about not deserving me?”

“S'just…after I got off on break, I said I had done it to spend more time with youuu-oh!” His hips give a tight buck into your cupped hand and he’s obviously trying to control himself.

“Yeah?”

“And then I took up the m-movie deal. And you…you weren’t even angry at me? I did it out of no where and you were nothing but happy, even though I broke the promise…” He’s sniffling again, wiping his nose along his shoulder with the shirt sleeve. “You did nothing but support me when I just left you hanging like that and I don’t deserve your patience. I leave you all by yourself to go on tour, get off of tour and then leave you again to do a movie and you haven’t said one bad thing and I just…And then now, having to deal with me drunk off my ass and trying to eat a fucking cig, for Christ’s sake! I don’t–”

“Bullshit.” You state, your tone so strict to the point where he jumps slightly. “I knew that dating you would come with this and I did it anyways because I love you. You never have to worry about this stuff with me, H. If I ever get sad about it, I’ll tell you, but don’t beat yourself up, alright? You live an exhausting enough life as it is, so don’t worry about me, okay? I’m always gonna be here for you because you more than deserve me– you’re a good man with a huge heart and you’re doing all you can to get a good, solid career. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Harry smiles all watery, kissing your nose. “I love you– fuck, I–so much. You’re just…can’t even put it into words.”

You kiss at the pulse in his neck, murmuring comfort. “Love you, too, my sparkler-eating dumbass.”

He chokes out a laugh, which is cut off by a hearty moan as you give his dick a twist.

“Can I finish you off now without any more tears being shed?” You tease, biting along the skin of his jaw.

“Hell yeah.”

Late Night Call

MASTERLIST

Request: Can you do one with Shawn being upset while touring? xx

Word Count: 1,375

Late night call

You were brutally pulled away from your – otherwise – rather heavy sleeping when an annoying buzzing sounded from the bedside table. You pushed up your heavy, sleepy body with your elbows, looking around the dark room.

You rubbed your sore eyes quickly, before gazing over at the clock. 4:23 AM.

Who on earth calls at this time of the freaking hour?

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listen,, after peter ran away from prom and left liz behind she was probably so sad and disappointed and she kind of distanced herself from her friends and sat down in a more quiet corner of the room and let a few tears fall. NOW IMAGINE,,, michelle comes up to her and is like “hey, you alright?” and despite sniffling and still being upset liz answers “yeah, i’m fine.” but michelle is having NONE of that and goes “you know, i could dance with you.” and liz looks up with her big brown eyes, slightly confused but before she can ask any questions, michelle adds “i’m a way better dancer than peter, trust me” and liz laughs through her tears and is suddenly smiling again and michelle’s face lights up as she holds out her hand and asks “so, what do you say?” and liz obviously nods, takes her hand, michelle helps her get up and while they slow dance they talk and giggle a lot and are having fun and peter is forgotten

Bat Aunt: Part 8

Prompt: How Bruce Wayne’s life changes when a little sister is thrown into the mix

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7


“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you right, can you repeat that?”

    “I adopted another child.”

    You close your eyes, brace yourself for the incoming headache, and let out a sigh, “That’s what I thought you said.” You plop down into your office chair. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone with Alfred. He’s always had a hard time saying no to you.”

    You watch as Bruce rolls his eyes, “He’s a kid, not a puppy. He was lifting the tires off the Batmobile. He’s entirely too thin, and he’s living on the street.”

    “How are he and Richard getting along?”

    Bruce smiles, “You know Dick. He’s always been great with kids. And now that he’s splitting his time between Gotham and the Titans… well, it just makes sense.”

    You log onto your computer, “Yeah. I saw the pictures of his new suit. Were the finger stripes his idea, or yours?”

    Bruce lets out a laugh, “Dick was born to be in the center ring.”

    “What’s his name?”

    “Jason. And I’m sure he would love to meet his wonderful Aunt Y/N.”

    You smile, “Well, of course he would. I’m amazing. Now tell me, do you plan on having him take the Robin mantle?”

    Bruce finally takes a seat, “He has what it takes, but I’m being cautious. The more training the better I think.”

    You smile, “I can’t help but agree. I’ll stay at the Manor while I’m in town, and get to know my new nephew.”

    Bruce leans back, “Does that mean, you might just knock off early?”

    You lean forward, “What are you up to, Bruce Wayne?”

    Your brother gives you an easy smile, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

    You roll your eyes, “You’ve been talking to Barry again, haven’t you?”

    Bruce doesn’t even bother pretending, “He says you’ve been pulling a lot of late nights.”

    “No more than usual.”    

    He groans, “Wasn’t the entire idea behind you moving to Central City and moving in with Barry, actually living with him? Having a life outside of work?”

    You shrug, and a moment of silence lapses between the two of you, “What’s going on, kid? Barry says you’ve been really distant lately. You’re pulling away from him, you barely return my calls, Dick says you’re answering emails with only one or two words, and you’re refusing Alfred’s face time.”

    You run your tongue over your teeth, “Bruce, I have a lot to do. I’ll try and stop by tonight.”

    Your brother scowls, “So, you’re going from staying at the Manor, to trying to stop by.” You don’t say anything, and he sighs, “Fine. I’ll talk to you later. If you pick up.” You wince as he walks out. You scrub your hands over your face before turning around to look at Gotham’s skyline.

    You’d been living in Central City for two years now. You’d been happier than you’d ever been before. But slowly, you’d found yourself homesick. You missed the manor and your family, and any reminder of them made you resent Barry just a tad. You knew he couldn’t leave Central City… but you missed your home.

    You get lost in the sight of your home. You watch as the daylight fades and the buildings slowly light up. You listen to the police sirens, and the faint sound of live music coming from the bars. Finally, the need to be on the streets overtakes you. You grab your coat and make your way out of the office.

    You find yourself sitting on a park bench. You watch the people walk by. You can’t help but smile. You feel at peace for the first time in months. Knowing what you have to do, you begin your walk back to the office. You’re passing an alley when you hear it. The grunts and groans of someone being beat up.

    It’s the flash of red that catches your eye. You turn and watch as the young boy searches through the pockets of the unconscious man on the street. You smile as you walk further down the alley, the click of your heels drawing his attention. “Now, I know my brother wouldn’t approve of this.”

    The boys scowls at you, “And your brother would be?”

    “Your mentor. Jason Todd, right?”

    His eyes go huge, and you motion with your head for him to follow you. He drops the wad of cash on top of the man’s chest before following you. You dig out a spare pair of clothes from the back of your car. One of Dick’s old outfits. He changes in the car while you wait outside.

    When he knocks twice on the window, you slip into the driver’s seat. He says nothing as you drive to your destination. You smile as you pull to a stop, and he follows you in. It’s been months since you’ve been in, but you’re greeted like it’s only been a day. You go to your usual booth, and Jason slides in across from you.

    You catch him staring at you, “If you have a question, I recommend asking it.”

    “Why didn’t you take me home?”

    “Because, I’m the cool aunt. That means bailing you out of bad situations and not telling my brother when you’re doing something stupid. That being said, you sneak out again, I’ll make sure you never make it into those tights again.”

    He scowls, “I’ve been training for two months. I’m ready.”

    You smile, “You’re over eager.”

    “Let me guess, Dick wasn’t?”

    You raise an eyebrow, “Dick had eight years of circus training to propel him forward. From the looks of it, you’re a small time thief.”

    He scowls, “This is part of being the cool aunt?”

    “This is me making sure my brother actually lets you out on the streets some day. He finds out about that stunt and you won’t even be allowed in the cave.” Silence lapses between you. You chat with Diane when she takes your orders.

When she’s gone, Jason asks, “Has he always been such a stick in the mud? Bruce, I mean.”

You stare at the boy, “He’s better now than when he was a kid. He kept himself very isolated after our parents died.”

“He was there, when they were killed?”

You nod, and he leans back in his seat. “He’s not all that bad. I mean he teaches me

some pretty cool things, and my new school is pretty cool.”

You smile, “You like school?”

He nods, “They offer a bunch of literature classes. It’s awesome.” And just like that you

watch the icy exterior melt away. Jason entertains you with stories from school. You don’t realize how late it is until Lew gives the signal to start cleaning up.

You drive Jason home, and give him your cell phone number. “Call me anytime you need it.”

He smiles, tosses out a “Thanks for the food, Aunt Y/N.” And runs inside. You pull away from your family home with ease. It takes a bit of time to get to the airport, and you’re on the next flight out.

You land in Central City at three a.m. and you nearly fall asleep on the ride home. Bone tired you open the door to the apartment and you freeze. You walk further in, to find a red blur zipping around the apartment.

It stops at the sight of you. Barry’s voice is soft, “Hey.”

You smile, “Hey.”

A moment of silence ticked by before Barry starts talking, “You’re homesick. I should have realized it sooner. It really was stupid of me. I mean your entire family is in Gotham, your company’s headquarters are there. You’re done setting up the satellite office here, you’ve been done for months, and to be honest I should have seen it earlier. You need a challenge, and Gotham provides that both professionally, and superhero wise. So I put in my notice at work, and Gotham PD has already taken me on. They were kind of desperate actually. And you own the apartment building, so we don’t have to worry about breaking the lease. I figure we could live at the manor for a few months, and we could get our own place close by, or maybe our own wing if you want to stay there. Wow that sounds weird … and I’m babbling. But Y/N I love you something fierce and I don’t want to lose you …”

By the time he’s done talking, he’s actually out of breath. You take the three steps needed to reach him, before throwing your arms around his neck, and kissing him. When you pull back you say, “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, but I don’t want you to give up everything for me.”

His voice is soft, “I’m not giving anything up. I don’t have much left here. Iris is married, and pregnant. Joe is getting ready to retire, Wally can more than handle the City, and to be completely honest I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth, because Y/N you’re my home.”

You kiss him again, long and slow, before pulling back and asking the question you’d intended all along, “Barry Allen, will you marry me?”

  • Sirius: Couldn't help but notice you've spent a staggering amount of time with Evans lately.
  • James: *rolls eyes*
  • Sirius: No need to look like a deer in headlights. I'm just stating a fact
  • James: *rolls eyes again*
  • James: THE DEER PUNS STOP NOW
  • Sirius: You're positively fawning over her
  • Sirius: *grins*
  • James: If you'll excuse me, I'm off to find a new best friend
  • Sirius: Oi! Where are you going? You've got man's best friend right here!
  • James: *makes a rude hand gesture at Sirius*
  • Remus: You're really in the doghouse, Padfoot
  • Peter: Yeah. You better watch out, or Prongs'll replace your shampoo with flea dip again
  • Sirius: Okay, oka — wait, what do you mean AGAIN?