your mouth is weird and i want to make out with it

top 10 phan moments that make me wanna rip my heart out

yeah, just ten moments among hundreds, let it be part one or something. tell me what i’ve missed because i want more suffering in my life.

10) mind control.

i mean, i appreciate the subtlety. i crave those tiny moments that you only notice when someone points them out to you. but this! you can’t miss this one, this moment is shoved down our throats. this is so “i’m allowed to do that to you, to be in your personal space, and gaze into your eyes for no reason, just because i want to”. and phil’s face in that moment, so much joy and mischief, he claps his hands and gazes back.

9) chest touch.

drama queen howell strikes again, it hurts to rewatch it srsly, why is he so extra? but what is phil doing ladies and gents? he slaps his chest in the weirdest way possible, he brushes it, it’s like he wants to shove him but reassuringly and the movement happens so fast you have to pause for a second to comprehend it. that sweet gentle boy is so fond of dan’s unnecessary commentary and yeah, it completely distracts us from what dan is saying at that moment.

8) feel my heartbeat.

was that necessary, really? like, i don’t ask my friends to feel my heartbeat when i’m scared, that was such a “horror movie at first date” bullshit, that’s not what people do?? and when dan does feel that beautiful hummingbird heart, phil just covers his hand with his own palm because yes, you gotta feel it very close, no air between your hand and my chest. dan immediately looks into the camera to show us that yeah, i know you’re there, nothing strange, and makes a comment about phil dying. wow.

7) phil the delivery man.

i don’t know what to say. it’s so simple but why does phil have to make such an act of bringing dan his charger, why does he talk in that stupid voice?? they have a banter, and then phil FIXES DAN’S CHARGER FOR HIM, like what?? who asked you to do that? where’s my IT guy au (literally, he’s got glasses, look at him). and before he leaves he plays the piano that nerd, what an attention seeker, and then bows!! is he tipsy? did he have a pre-liveshow orgasm or something? dan laughs fondly and it’s all i need in the world.

6) child beer.

what’s happening and does it even matter. phil’s hiding on the floor, but why? to surprise us? eh whatever. so he’s got that magical japanese powdery stuff and he wants dan to taste it. the biggest problem for me here, ahem, i mean the thing that just kills me every time is that phil spends the whole time (eight minutes) on his knees and he looks so cute when he makes that beer, holds it close to the camera, and then lets the foam sit so dan can have the ultimate child beer experience.

it reminds me of that hot chocolate video, where he does something so trivial but he’s so gentle and loving about it. i still don’t understand why they didn’t do a simple taste test like bros, but phil had to make it for dan, he wanted to see his reaction. and then he tries it as well, touches the glass rim with his lips at the same place where dan’s mouth just was (gross).

and i just can’t ignore how that boy sneaks past dan’s room after that, he’s playful, he stops to say that he googled something and dan was wrong, and domesticity, i wanna die.

5) sleeping phil on tour.

i kinda wanna talk about the angle here because i don’t understand how it was filmed (camera is pretty static, dan’s hand reaches from the side, not behind), but i don’t know if it matters here. what matters is how gentle dan is. of course, he starts with classic nose tickling, which is what “messing with a sleeping friend” usually implies, but then he frees one strand of phil’s hair and just lets it fall. wow, fantastic prank, dan.

and let’s separately discuss that pout/kiss phil does after he opens his eyes. i know you want a slow mo replay, so here we go:

that’s what i call “im gonna stay asleep but i love you”. where’s the nearest cliff so i can fling myself into abyss?

4) the look.

context what context. why did they keep it? why did they put it on fullscreen instead of hiding in the corner? two full-length looks dan, really?? you know what he looks like, why do you have to examine him like that in front of us you slut. and it just passes, without acknowledgment, they just turn back at us simultaneously and I’M STILL DEAD at that moment, i don’t care what happens next.

3) snoot. proot. (i just filmed you doing that)

i don’t even care what it was. something about piano sounds or whatever, but this video haunts me. THERE’S SO MUCH TO IT. first, phil is lying on dan’s bed (at least in the official version it’s dan’s, not mutual), just chilling?? and dan’s working i guess. so they are not actually doing something together but it’s a cozy evening, why would they spend it in different rooms? dan says something, idk, and phil replies “yeah” in that deep voice I SWEAR i haven’t heard from him before. dan makes the sounds again, like can you believe he’s an actual dork in real life, it’s not an act, he’s actually the weirdest boy alive, and he so obviously doesn’t know he’s being filmed. because when phil says “i just filmed you doing that you’re so weird”, he’s so delighted, he laughs at himself, he turns around, his hair is pushed back omg they are both so sleepy and i rejoice. i think this video gives us a rare but fantastic insight in their everyday life, phil must be keeping so much silly videos like that on his google drive and we never get to see them BUT SOMEHOW he posts this one, probably because dan is cute and he wants everyone to know it.

2) you loved it. you wanna do it more.

so, yes. you know this one. where do i even begin?? they play this dragon quiz and then 1) phil says “you loved it” in the strangest voice, like the voice we never hear from him, it’s deeper and quieter, he looks at dan even though dan’s not looking back; 2) dan is looking down as if he’s fiddling with an ipad or something, it’s almost a bts moment, something they would usually edit out. AND THEN THREE SECONDS OF SILENCE while dan kinda processes what’s going on and phil still looks at him expectantly. seductive as fuck. and now this quiet “alright”, i’m just… dan looks like he’s gotten the hint, so he’s a little embarrassed and they share the softest laugh. 

the thing is, we know how often phil makes sexual innuendos and dan always reacts the same way: he looks into the camera, he throws a witty comment in, he puts it on display to show us that there’s no intimacy in that moment. but not this time. i don’t understand why they didn’t edit it out. i just… don’t.

1) pantless liveshow
this is the ultimate. this is the weirdest and the most awesome thing these two gave me and i’m not even sure what can top that. the moment when phil decides to grab the humidifier and show us, he looks at the screen, says “one second” and stands up very awkwardly while dan turns the laptop away from him and makes the weirdest “how you doing” face. 

WHAT THE FUCK. did they think we were so used to them weirdos that we wouldn’t even notice that shit? but fuck, they do it again, they want to show us the spray and dan goes “should i go get it? you have to do phil’s corner”. like, i can’t function, i honestly can’t. AND THE WORST PART is when dan returns and we can see him covering his legs with a blanket just too fast like it’s not that cold boy come on.

i have no explanation and i have every explanation. i don’t deserve all this suffering.

An AU where Bitty didn’t go to Samwell and instead started working at a bakery in Providence. The bakery is around the same neighbourhood where Tater lives.

Tater starts frequenting the place and soon enough, you guessed it. Bitty and Tater become friends.

The best of friends. The ride or die friends. The I’d hide a body with you friend. But also the how many skittles can you fit in your mouth? Friend.

Tater starts a lot of his stories with ‘B and I…’ ‘Took B to’ 'B is’ etc and everybody starts assuming that B is Tater’s girlfriend, until he brings him for a game.

Everybody sort of goes 'oooooh’ and assumes this is Tater coming out and bringing his boyfriend to meet them. And if you think about it, it sort of explains Tater calling him B.

Then Tater comes super excited one day. 'B will move with me!’ And they all congratulate him and everything, thinking it’s so nice that Tater and Bitty’s relationship is going well, while actually Tater has been nagging Bitty to move in so he can have access to pie 24/7.

But also because Bitty is his best friend and since he bought his apartment he has been feeling a little lonely, this is the reason that does convince Bitty to move in because he has been feeling a little lonely too.

Fast forward a year, Jack graduates and joins the team. By this point Bitty is a regular at the games, he is a very in demand babysitter and makes a lot of food for the players.

Before he starts, Guy and Marty take the time to feel him out and explain that Tater has a boyfriend, and that they will have nothing but acceptance in their locker room.

They do this after asking Tater if it was ok to tell Jack about Bitty.

'No problem!’ Tater replies happily 'But B so good he need no introduction.’

Jack is pleased by this of course, and happy he is in a welcoming team.

Then Jack meets Bitty.

And to make it better, let’s say he meets him when he is carrying a bunch of stuff for the nook.

'You should eat more protein,’ Jack jokes after seeing all the pies, and offers a hand to carry things.

Bitty jokes/flirts back. They are having a moment, Jack feels butterflies in his stomach and well, if the team is ok with Tater, surely they’d be ok with him…

'B! You made it!’ Tater bellows from down the hallways and rushes over, picking Bitty and putting him in a bear hug. 'I miss you.’

'Tater!’ Bitty yells laughing, and kisses his cheek playfully, 'you saw me this morning.’

'Yeah but you sleepy, you grumpy when sleepy. Like tiny bear.’

And then Bitty and Tater start to bicker like an old married couple. This whole time Tater is holding Bitty up.

Jack stomach drops to his feet, because of course Bitty is taken. By his teammate.

Jack develops a crush, a massive problematic crush because holy fuck Tater is the nicest person ever, and he would never want to get in between him and his boyfriend, but also he is terrified of Tater finding out because he once took two defence man by himself and won.

Meanwhile, at Bitty and Tater’s home, Bitty flings himself dramatically over the counter.

'Tater! I’m in love. Jack is so cute and nice, I like him so much.’

'Jack nice guy, he good guy for you. I approve,’ Tater says solemnly with a mouth full of pie.

'Say it don’t spray it,’ Bitty asks for the millionth time. 'Do you know if he likes guys?’

And then Tater being the good friend he is, tries to feel Jack out and play matchmaker, while an increasingly alarmed Jack thinks Tater is warning him off about crushing on Bitty.

Which isn’t helped by the fact Bitty keeps popping up to chirp him, which kind of feels like flirting but surely not…

Things get clarified and everything, Jack and Bitty start dating, and Tater has to explain 8 times to everybody that no, he never dated Bitty.

'We kissed once. We agree weird. We best as best friends,’ Tater says once again.

'Yeah but if he was going to date somebody other than you why couldn’t it be me?’ Poots complains loudly.

'You no good enough for B,’ Tater chirps back. 'I only let B date good teammate who didn’t eat my pie.’

'Will you let that go man!? I didn’t know it was yours.’

'It had sticky paper with Tater on it! You don’t fool me Poot, you food thief!’

Married with Benefits (Part 10)

Summary: In order to not pay out-of-state tuition, you ask your friend, Steve Rogers, to marry you. Things, as always, never go as planned. (College AU)

Word Count: 930

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

A/N: Here is my inbox for you to scream into. :)

Originally posted by whatwasdead


The next day, Steve had to go to work and you asked him if he could drop you off at campus, wanting to explore more of what your future school offered. He said goodbye with a kiss to your cheek and you tried not to let your thoughts dwell on it too much as you walked around the nearly-empty buildings of the large university.

The next few days were filled with applications you had to fill out, make sure you had the right schedule, and even looking for a job to pass the time and get a little money from whilst you were studying in the city. Steve didn’t bring up kissing again and you inwardly denied that it disappointed you.

Keep reading

Caught Flustered

Title: Caught Flustered

Warnings: Swear words and sexual themes

Summary: After Peters revenge he hears you in your room doing something naughty.

Part 1 Part 2

Peter laid in his bed with a smug grin on his face, he had successfully exacted his revenge on Y/N. He  couldn’t believe his own boldness.  Peter was never considered a suave guy with the ladies but he had managed to make Y/N a mess underneath him. 

He wondered if Y/N would be getting revenge or if this was the end of your game.  If you continued your game he was in a vulnerable place because his room was next to yours.  Normally he stayed at his apartment but training went late so he crashed in the room saved for him.  If you wanted you could come into his room and web him to his bed. That made him nervous so he decided to reach out further with his hearing.  He didn’t have super hearing put his powers had given him better senses than the average human. He didn’t usually eavesdrop on people because that can be a good way to ruin your birthday gift.

He tried to focus on your room to see if you were awake and plotting. It was silent except for deep breathing.  Peter sighed and was about to reel his hearing in when he heard a breathy moan.  Peter stilled, that couldn’t be what he thought it was, right?  He strained to try and hear better.

Moans again filled his ears. His eyes grew wide at the thought of what you could be doing in your room. His cheeks felt a rush of heat, maybe you were thinking of him. This made a throbbing pulse go through him.  Maybe you were finishing what he had started.  That made him blush harder, but that couldn’t be true.

Another moan brought him back and then- “Peter”

He jerked up in bed heart pounding.

“Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck.” He whispered as he paced around his room. He ran his hands down his face and then through his fair.

Not only were you probably doing very dirty things you were doing them thinking of him. His boxers suddenly became very tight. What was he supposed to do? Stay here and pretend this didn’t happen? Go over there and….. help you?

He gulped and tried to control his thoughts.  He groaned this was probably your revenge. You were doing this to him on purpose. He was not going to let you win, so he decided to storm over there and end this. One way or another.

He whipped open his door and stormed over to yours.  He didn’t even knock and threw open your door.  The sight that greeted him was a huge surprise.

You weren’t even awake, you were twisted in your sheets and small whimper sounds were being emitted. Peter smirked you were having a dirty dream about him. He could get a double dose of revenge if he played this right.

Peter coughed loudly and then called your name. You stirred and looked back at him “Darling if you wanted me that bad I’m right here no need for fantasies.”

You realized in that moment two things: one was that you were dreaming of doing some very naughty things to Spidey himself and two was that Peter Parker had caught you mid dream.

You had to play this right or you would never hear the end of it. “If by fantasies you mean me imagining how annoying you are then trust me I know your right there for the real life experience.” She tried to play off her dreaming.

Peter knew you were lying but that was okay with him. He knew this would end in his favor. “Well, in that case I leave with my annoyingness in tow.”  He turned around and pretended to leave.

“Wait, I didn’t say you had to leave.  Before the dream of you I, had… a bad dream.” You pretended to look scared and then patted the empty space next to you on the bed.

He smirked and walked over to you.  He laid down with his chest pressed against his back and your legs tangled together. He was still for a minute waiting for you to do something. When you don’t he wraps his arms around you and buried his head in your neck.  He immediately went for your sweet spot on your neck.  He began to suck and your breathing hitched. Unconsciously you tilted your head so more of your neck was open to his magical mouth

“Spidey do you know what you’re starting?” 

He chuckled and the vibrations make a low moan escape your lips. “I know exactly what I’m starting.”  His lips began to move up your neck leaving a trail of hot kisses. He made it to the shell of your ear and bit down on the lobe and tugged.  This again caused you to moan.

He was winning and you could not let this happen. You pressed further back into him until your ass was in the perfect placement against his crotch. His movements stopped.  You began to roll your hips back and forth.  Since the famous Peter Parker slept only in his boxers you could immediately feel the reaction your actions caused. You could also hear the heavy breathing and low groan in your ear.

“Sweetheart you’re heading into dangerous territory.”  He began to move his hips along with yours trying to create more of the desired friction. You decided you didn’t like this position anymore.

You flipped over to face the flushed breathless face of Peter Parker. You smiled and put your hands on his chest dragging your hands down slowly tracing his muscles.

“Maybe I like dangerous.” You smirked before smashing your lips against his, a hot make out ensuing. You and him were tangled and pressed so close you couldn’t tell where you limbs began and his ended. Slowly his hand started to reach the hem of your shirt. 

You were about to lift it off your head when-

“Y/N are you alright I heard a lot of groaning and thought you might be hurt.” Vision had ghosted through the wall as his room was to the left of yours.

You and Peter quickly flew apart, so fast and hard Peter accidentally threw himself onto the floor. Vision not understanding the situation continued to ask questions while you repeatedly told him that you were fine and that knocking and doors are required before entering a room.

“Mister Peter did you also come to check on Y/N for injuries?” Asked the perplexed Vision

“Um, yeah but since she’s fine I best be off to bed. Bye.” Peter ran out of the room face on fire and a weird limp to his walk. Next went a confused Vision leaving you alone.

Would this be considered a tie?


Those who asked to be tagged!

@assgardstark @lindsay-got-lost-in-the-tardis @therealsweetspawn @midtownsciencenerd @spiiderboi @im-just-lurking

@notawarriorjustyet @clean-and-claire @1022bridgetp @redstarstan @sarcasticmichelle

3

aaaah I’m so happy you liked her, and that you’re interested in her!
If you’re wondering who she is, she’s Sora, my OC from MHA -> link

So, here’s some fact about her (soon I’ll make her official reference sheet for the UA school! è_è):

• Basically, her quirk is divided in two: she can control the 2 rings that levitate around her up to 1 mt, and from those rings she can create masses of manipulable but almost unbreakable ectoplasm. 
• Her mother has a quirk that allows her to create and control a full set of 5 rings (like the ones Sora has), that she uses to fight; her father’s quirk makes him vomit a gel-ish solid ectoplasm from his mouth, and create everything he wants (like puppets, or object ready to use). Sora has a weird combination of that 2 powers (she can create everything from thei rings)!
• She’s born without her arms. It’s nothing related to her quirk, or the ones from her parents, she was just born with phocomelia, so her arms never formed during her mother’s pregnancy! So, actually she’s kind of lucky to have a quirk that allows her to compensate her handicap.
• Her quirk showed very late, when she was 8 yo, when she was about to give up of her hopes to become a hero. She passed all the following years training so hard not just to control her quirk, but also to increase her resistance: now she can basically mantain her quirk active continually.
• Even if she can move the rings anywere and she could create everything with the ectoplasm that comes out from them, she always tend to create arm-related stuff: different kind of arms (even if her favourite ones, the ones that she always “”wear”” are not human, but kind of beasty and big), limbs with weapons, or simply wings! Still, sometimes she moves her rings in positions other than her shoulders, and create other stuff (stairs, chairs, sledges, everything.)
• As I said, she trained to create wings: she’s not really able to fly for long distances, but she can make quick and short flights ( no more than 5 minutes, then she’ll be too tired to do anything else), or glide from an high place.
 

So, let me know if you like her, and I’ll maybe tell you more!
Thank you so much for your interest ♥

The Photograph

Hi babes! This is a fluffy oneshot about Peter having a crush on one of Michelle’s friends at Midtown High. One day, he spots her reading outside and secretly takes a photo of her because he thinks that she looks too perfect to go unseen, and he pins the photo up in the back of his locker. Everything is fine until Flash Thompson gets his hands on Peter’s photo and brings it to her attention. After that, awkward cuteness ensues and I hope that you all like it!

The Photograph

Hot licks of pain seared throughout Peter’s body. His lip was split, there was a purpling bruise on his temple that was accompanied by a headache so powerful that it’s aching refused to be ignored. Even walking from class to class was taking a toll on Peter. He was exhausted and in pain, but Peter remained hellbent on keeping Queens safe, no matter the cost.  

    Peter’s eyes glazed over and his body was ready to shut down. Doing his best to keep himself up on his feet, he focused on the photo that he had tacked up of her in the back of his locker.

    In the photo, the girl was outside, hidden beneath the shade of a rather large tree. She was stretched out on a light pink blanket, a copy of Charles Baudelaire’s, ‘The Flowers of Evil,’ open in front of her. There was a carton of fresh strawberries and a rather oversized iced coffee balanced haphazardly against her backpack on the ground with her, and every so often, Peter recalled how delightedly blissful she looked each time she bit into a ripe berry. The sun’s rays, the soft breeze wandering through the tree’s leaves, and the chatter bumbling down to her from their shared high school didn’t even faze the girl. Her mind remained with the poet’s.

    After a few minutes of watching her, Peter felt soothed. Everything about her made him feel better. He loved the way she licked her lips after she ate, he loved the way that she read her favorite verses aloud, he loved the way that she laughed at herself when she nearly spilled her coffee, and he loved the way that she helped him forget about the constant stress that was now heavily present in his life.

    When Peter finally snapped the photo, she was laying on her side, one hand wound into her silky hair to keep it out of her eyes, and the other hand holding her poetry book open. Her eyes were focused on comprehending the poems on each page, but she wore a soft smile on her lips that made it clear that she wasn’t scrutinizing anything too intensely. The girl was merely enjoying her free period in the sun and Peter longed to do the same.

    Since then, Peter looked for her in almost every hallway, in every classroom window, and everyday at lunch. They’d spoken a handful of times, seeing as they were in the same history class, but other than class discussions, Peter hadn’t mustered up the nerve to say hello outside of an intellectual, in-class debate.

    One day, she was late to history and when she’d walked into the room, she found that her normal seat next to the window had been taken, so she headed towards the first empty desk she saw. Peter, already occupying one of the seats, nearly suffered a heart attack when she placed her binder next to his and offered him a quiet “good morning.”

    It had taken Peter a few seconds to force his brain to form a response to her and then to get his mouth to open and say the words that his brain was attempting to communicate back to her. When he stuttered out, “hey, yeah, good morning,” she didn’t tease him for his weirdness, instead she smiled at him and Peter could’ve melted onto the floor right then and there.

    During that day’s lecture, their teacher was detailing women’s struggles throughout the years to gain the 19th amendment, which won women of all colors, and social standings the right to vote. She scribbled down notes and nodded in agreement with the teacher as she spoke of Ida B. Well’s, Lucy Burns’ and Alice Paul’s courageous actions in the suffrage movement. It was only after Flash Thompson opened his mouth that Peter observed a frown cross over her features.

    “Why didn’t they just keep doing what Florence Kelley advised? If they had followed her directions, they wouldn’t have gotten radical and thrown into prison. Florence Kelley was meeting with President Woodrow Wilson, and he explained to her why he couldn’t grant women suffrage right then, but he said he would going forward. The National Women’s Party didn’t know what they were doing, and furthermore, they set the women’s rights movement back with their crazy antics.” Flash finished, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair.

    Glancing over at the girl in the chair next to him, Peter knew that not only was Flash painfully incorrect and uneducated, but she was clearly getting ready to put Flash back into his place.

    “Wow, that’s actually so, so, so wrong.” She started, turning slightly in her chair to face Flash, “if Florence Kelley had kept asking President Wilson to recognize women as intelligent, reasonable beings capable of making a decisive decision, it’s unlikely that the 19th amendment would’ve been passed in 1920. The only reason women were granted suffrage is because of The National Woman’s Party. These women marched, were beaten in the streets, picketed in front of the White House, and were thrown into jail for the good of women everywhere. President Wilson only granted women the right to suffrage after women were dying in prison due to the hunger strike Alice Paul began. Not to mention, while these women were imprisoned, they were denied basic human rights and the entire reason they were in locked away in jail was because they were blocking traffic on the sidewalk. It took drastic measures to humanize women in men’s eyes and without the heroic antics of these women, who knows where women would stand today. I mean, a woman’s right to her own body is something that could be taken away at any moment, and women are constantly battling the image that men have imposed upon us. Therefore, your opinion is invalid because you apparently cannot grasp the severity of the situation, past and present.”

    Peter, as well as the rest of the class, was stunned into silence. Normally, she didn’t partake in class discussions because she was shy, but now that she had, everyone in the room was shocked by the intellect that she had just destroyed Flash with. Peter wanted nothing more than to hear her speak all day, and maybe to introduce her to Aunt May.

    Peter could barely focus as Michelle began to back her up. Leaning closer to the wonderfully insightful girl next to him, Peter let her know just how clever he found her. “That was amazing, everything you said was perfect and spot-on. That was the greatest thing that I’ve ever seen and I can’t wait for you do it again.” Peter congratulated the girl.

    “You don’t think it was too much?” She asked worriedly, biting her lip and fiddling with the pencil in her hands.

    Peter shook his head, his eyes wide, “No, no! Absolutely not! You would’ve made Alice Paul very proud.”

    Placing a hand atop of his, she thanked him with a smile. “You’re the best, Peter,” she said before turning her focus back to their teacher.

    After that, she had joined Peter on Flash’s hit-list, so Peter should’ve known better than to try and relax with his locker wide open. Peter was knocked out of his daydream of going home to her and simply curling up around her to sleep by Flash’s grabby hand, first shoving him out of the way, and then stealing his photo of her.

    As Flash rushed down the hall, Peter struggled after him, both boys trying to beat each other to where she stood deep in conversation with Michelle about the numerous male authors whose most famous novels were stolen works from their wives.

    “Flash, don’t” Peter shouted, as he tried to ignore the shooting pain traveling up his body.

    “Too late, Penis Parker,” Flash called as he weaved gracefully inbetween students to get to their target.

    “Oh my gosh,” Michelle muttered, rolling her eyes as she nodded her head towards the two boys heading their way. “Losers.”

    “His lip is bleeding,” She said, concern lacing into her tone. “Do you think he’s okay?”

    “Your boyfriend is fine, probably tripped over a lego or something on his way to the bathroom and banged his head into the wall on his way down.” Michelle tried to reason with her friend. She’d detected that her friend and Peter had the biggest of crushes on one another way before either one of them had, and she had made it her mission to mock them every chance she got.

    Flash was the first to reach the two girls, holding up the photo of her that Peter had taken of her reading outside. “Parker, Penis.” He wheezed, “Penis Parker took this picture of you and had it taped up behind his textbooks in his locker.” Bending over to soothe the splint in his side, Flash handed the photo to the confused girl in front of him.

    As Peter came to a stop in front of her and Michelle, he groaned and threw his hands up into the air, uttering a barely audible, “fuck.”

    When the girls saw Peter up close, they found that Peter was barely recognizable due to all of the bruises masking his pale skin. Quickly handing the photo to Michelle, the girl surged forward, lightly grabbing onto Peter’s sweater to steady him. “Peter, what happened to you? You’re hurt,” she questioned, growing a little more distraught as she studied him face to face.

    “The picture, I’m sorry, I know it’s so creepy. I didn’t mean to be a weirdo and I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable, I swear that I’m not stalking you.” Peter mumbled, trying unsuccessfully to keep his lip from bleeding.

    “Peter, I don’t care about the photo. What happened to you? Oh no, your lip is bleeding,” She rambled, steering Peter towards the bench nearest to them. “Sit,” she instructed, digging through her backpack for a tissue to dab Peter’s cut with.

    “You’re seriously not going to say anything about the picture he clearly took of you?” Flash whined, refusing to accept defeat.

    Michelle raised her eyebrows, “No, I think it’s disturbing too. You’re not alone in that, Flash.”

    “Do you need ice?” She asked Peter, guiding Peter to look up so she could inspect his face for any further damage. “You need ice, Michelle, could you please go get him ice? Flash, could you please go away?” She asked, looking at the pair over her shoulder.

    Flash was nearly beside himself, “it’s weird! You have to acknowledge that it’s weird that he not only took a photo of you without your knowledge, but that he has it pinned up like you are his girlfriend or something? Really not going to say anything about that?”

    “For all you know,” she said, turning to face Flash as she did that day in class, “Peter could very well be my boyfriend!”

    Peter’s jaw dropped so far that she had to readjust his head to keep the tissue on his open wound. Gently prying her helping hand from his lip, “wait, really?” Peter asked. “You’d be my girlfriend after all this?”

    “This is disgusting,” Michelle interjected. Handing Peter’s photo back to him, she grabbed Flash by the collar of his polo shirt and dragged him down the hallway. “We’ll be back with ice and some band-aids.”

    She and Peter could hear Flash’s discontented grumbles as he followed Michelle down to the nurse’s office to retrieve some medical aid for Peter.

    “Are you really not freaked out?” Peter asked, staring up at her with big, brown, puppy-dog eyes.

    Sighing, she moved to stand in between Peter’s legs to inspect how much further his lip had split. “If you keep talking, the cut is never going to heal. This,” she gestured to Peter’s clearly damaged frame, “freaks me out more than anything. What’s happening to you? If I can help you, please let me. I care about you and I hate that you’re hurt.” She pouted.

    She was so close that Peter could smell all the floral notes in her perfume, and if he wanted to, he could hug himself close to her and never let go. “I can’t tell you what’s happening, but if I stop, things will get worse. Not just for me, but for everyone. I’m trying to help.”

    Running a hand through his hair, she shook her head. “Then let me help you. If you’re helping everyone, you deserve to have someone help you, and I want you to let me be that person, Peter.”

    Pinching the palm of his hand, Peter spotted Flash and Michelle returning with ice, ointment and bandages in hand, and he knew that he had to be quick. “It would really help me if you went out to dinner with me. Just being with you would help me. That’s why I took the picture of you. Every day that I felt like I was drowning, I would look at you, well the picture of you, and it would help me to breath again.”

    “Pick me up on Saturday. I’ll be ready at 7:30,” she agreed, much to not only Peter’s, but Flash’s surprise.

    “Come on!” Flash hissed, “how is it that Parker gets a date with a hot girl after he hides in the bushes and takes secret pictures of her? What the hell is going on right now? Do I live in the twilight zone?”

    “For fucks sake, Flash.” Michelle muttered, turning to him with squared shoulders, “she clearly knew that he was taking the photos of her. Who would smile while reading ‘The Flowers of Evil?’ And beyond that, she’s liked him for months and he’s liked her for months. All you’ve really done is finally bring them closer together. Congratulations Flash, your plan has officially backfired.”

    Flash groaned throughout the rest of the day and Michelle planned on teasing him for the rest of the school year. The girl’s cheeks were flushed pink until she went to sleep, and Peter couldn’t stop smiling, even though it only made the split in his lip worse.

   


Nursey is so wrapped up in saying goodbye to the graduating seniors that he doesn’t notice Dex and Bitty disappear until Chowder pokes him in his ribs with a grin. “You’re gonna pretend to be surprised, right?”

Nursey is already surprised, and confused, but doesn’t say so.

When they get back to the Haus half an hour later, taking the long route at Chowder’s insistence, everything looks the same as it always does. That is until Nursey makes his way up to Lardo’s old room, determined to figure out what he’s apparently supposed to already suspect.

“Shit,” Dex curses when he spots him. “Uh, hey? Fuck. I mean. What’s up, Nurse?”

Nursey blinks several times in quick succession, but the image of Dex in the middle of hanging custom bookshelves on the back wall of their soon-to-be-shared-bedroom while surrounded by at least five of Nursey’s favorite baked goods doesn’t go away. “…I literally don’t even know where to start, bro.”

Dex’s head drops down with a beleaguered groan. There’s a number two pencil stuck behind one ear and a hammer hanging from one of his belt loops. It’s a good look on him.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Nursey adds.

“You weren’t supposed to know I installed this,” Dex mutters, eyes trained on the floor.

“And the pies?”

“That was mostly Bitty. I only made one of them.“ Dex shrugs a shoulder stiffly. "Well. One and a half.”

“And did you make me shelves too?”

Keep reading

Movie Date

Pairings: Peter Parker x Reader, slight Stony

Request:

Could you please write a Peterxreader where reader is the youngest member of the team. One day they have a movie date in the tower and the team spies on them?Could it be in the point of view of the team?[bonus points if deadpool is in it] thanks <3            


Wade has created a chatroom.

Wade has added Natasha, Tony, Thor, Bruce, Steve, Clint, Vision.

Clint: What, Wade?!

Tony: Can we text later? You’re going to distract me!

Bruce: I need to ask, but is it not weird that us, adults, are spying on Y/N and Peter, our youngest and most loved members movie date in a very cramped up spot?

Natasha: If you don’t like it, then you can leave, Banner. It’s not weird. We are just being protective parental units/uncles/adopted android sibling.

Vision: Overprotective*

Steve: Should they be sitting so close? Natasha, should they? Maybe I should go in and sit between them.

Tony: I will kick your ass, Rogers! Don’t you dare ruin their date!

Thor: Grab him, Stark! I shall lay Mjolnir upon him so he may not move.

Steve: Try it and I will run off with Mjolnir!

Thor: You? Worthy? HA! Do not fight us!

Steve: I know you have your doubts. I know deep down you know that I was faking not being able to lift Mjolnir. Would you like to test me?

Thor: Anyone has any rope?

Keep reading

Sleepovers and Confessions (Peter Parker x reader)

Originally posted by sexy-stan

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: You come over for a fun night with your best friend Peter. Only to end up spilling all the details on your crush on Peter to Aunt May, and maybe even Peter.

Warning: slight language

Requested: @summersimpkins-blog

Hope you enjoy this!! It was what you requested but I got a little writer happy with this haha, hope you still like it! Send me requests, I’ll write about your fav marvel character, etc.:)

_______________________________________________________________

“Shhh, May! Keep your voice down!” You quickly brought your forefinger up to your pursed lips, eyes wide as you sat down next to Aunt May.

She smiled widely at your sudden confession, excitement poured from her she began to squeal, almost jumping up and down, “Okay, okay! I’m sorry, I’m just- it’s just so exciting!” she belted out, both of her arms outstretched in your direction, signalling a hug. Leaning into her small frame, you squeezed her tightly. Letting go of one another, you smiled widely at her once again in a span of thirty seconds, nervousness and the pace of your heart rate caused the giddiness in your entire body.

You sighed tucking back a piece of hair behind your ear, “I just don’t know what to do. We’re just such good friends, best friends, you know that-” you interjected a different thought into the subject, looking to face her. She rapidly shook her head in an understanding manner, stopping to let you finish.

“It’s just, we’ve been friends for close to eight years. I just don’t want to ruin anything. And don’t even get me started on the whole Liz situation. That’s why I’ve been so distant from him these past few weeks,” you heavily exhaled, defeat instantly creeping up on you as the name Liz rolled off your tongue. It just put a bad taste in your mouth.

May smiled weakly at you, with a slight spark in her eyes, which you couldn’t help but find curious, “Y/N, don’t worry about Liz right now! You’ve known me and Peter basically your entire life. Trust me, I think once you tell him, he’ll feel-”

“How will who feel?”

Your mouth instantly intakes a sharp breath at the sweet sound of Peter’s voice, interrupting your entire conversation about… well, him. May’s eyes widen at the new position of her nephew, from the bathroom to the living room, which was quite inconvenient at this moment in time.

“Oh!” May interjects. You can instinctively realize she’s analyzing a plan in her mind, “Me and Y/N were just talking about… how my boss will feel if I’m late again for the night shift!” she says with a tense voice. You looked at her with thankful eyes, blessing her for saving your ass in yet another tight situation with Peter.

Peter looked skeptical at her sudden tactic. His bright brown eyes narrowed in both of you directions, eyebrows playfully scrunching, “Ohh-kay?” he questioned slightly. You looked over at him, a weak, but hopefully believable smile painted across your lips as May got up to leave for her ‘night shift’.  She said her goodbyes to both of you, winking at you before exiting the apartment.

Peter watched her leave, waving to her sweetly before turning towards you, his pink lips curled into a bright smile, eyebrows raised, “You ready to watch Return of the Jedi?”

You smiled at his excitement, the butterflies beginning to erupt in the pit of your stomach at his smile, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

__

Halfway through the movie, you began to notice you couldn’t keep your eyes on the film. Your Y/E/C eyes slowly began to daze over to Peter sitting next to you. His soft, lightly curled brown hair was left loose today, going perfectly with his blue sweater and matching new balances. Your gaze flew up to his narrowed, sparkling brown eyes paired with furrowed eyebrows, focused intently on the movie.

God, those eyes make you go insane. And those thin pink lips you yearned to forever be placed on yours. Why couldn’t you just admit to him how you’ve felt for him all these years. Why couldn’t you just say, “Peter, I-”

“Y/N?”

The soft voice snapped you out of your deep thoughts, “Yeah?” you questioned, breath heavy as your head whipped in the direction towards him.

His eyes scanned your face completely, wondering if you were okay, due to the fact you had been in outer space, dreaming of him for a very long time, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine Peter. I’m just tired-”

“Cut the crap Y/N.”

Your heart instantly picked up at the new and unfamiliar sound of his voice. Your eyebrows scrunched together, your eyes wide yet peeled in his direction, curiosity running through your veins. He never sounded like that. He sounded almost, hurt? Guilty? You couldn’t quite detect it, “What are you talking about?”

He scooted closer to you, putting one arms behind the back of the couch and one by his side, mere inches from yours. You snapped your head down to your close proximity. Sure, you’ve sat much closer than this before, but right now, it felt strange. Almost as if you were unsure of what to say to him.

“The past couple of weeks you’ve been acting weird. Last week, I was walking with Liz to Calculus and I saw you, but you sprinted off! At lunch two days ago, you and Ned were sitting at the lunch spot and once you saw Liz and I make our way over, you muttered something to Ned before you got up and ran off! Oh, and yesterday Liz walked with me to-”

“That’s the problem, Peter! Don’t you see the recurring issue in every one of your stories!” you cut him off, hopping off the couch in a rush, standing right in front of Peter. Your mind instantly seem to forget how to choose the correct words to say to Peter in this type of situation. It was as if you didn’t know how to hide your feelings anymore. Your mind clouded, not anywhere near stopping.

Your hand flung out by your side, signaling to the outside world before belting out another stupid confession, someone careless seeming to take over, “You were with Liz! You were with her and not me!”

Peter slouched slightly, his eyes beginning to widen at every growing word that rolled off your lips, mouth barely ajar as he seemed to be aware of where this situation was going.

You continued, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes as your stomach did somersaults, and your heart ready to explode, “Don’t you see! You pine after girls like Liz for fucks sake! That’s why I’ve been so distant lately! Me knowing and witnessing  you falling in love with someone like her made me realize I would never have a chance with you, Peter,” your throat closing up at the sudden confession, you eyes widening as he stared intently into your eyes, slowly rising from the couch, stepping right in front of you. His couple steps felt like miles as he made his way towards your downcast figure. Once he approached you, you could lightly feel his breath hitting your nose.

This was it. He was about to tell you the truth, and it wasn’t going to be good. Who would’ve thought a simple sleepover would’ve turned into this?

You could feel the atmosphere in the room quiet and thicken, your eyes still staring deeply into Peter’s. Your eyes glossed over with guilt and disappointment. While his portrayed sneakiness and adventure. It felt like years for either of you to have the courage to speak up and say anything involving the matter. You took matters into your own hands.

“You know what, I took this way too far. I-I’m sorry, I’ll just leave and we can forget all about-” except you were cut off by Peter’s calloused palms quickly yet gently grab your face and bring your lips up to his softly. Your eyes widened in surprise, but you couldn’t of cared less. Your mind once again clouded with nothing but thoughts of Peter. You kissed back, gently pressing your lips back against his, hands wrapping around his neck, to rest in that soft brown hair you yearned to tug on for years.

He pulled away, his lips lingering on yours for a few seconds before slowly opening his eyes to meet yours in a loved daze, “Liz means nothing. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your eyes lifted with happiness at his words, heart prepared to explode with happiness and love, pulling him against your slightly shorter frame. His arms instantly wrapped themselves around your waist, causing an ignited feeling you’ve never felt before.

“I knew May was lying,” he said slyly, hugging you tighter as his words echoed in your ear.

You smiled to yourself, rolling your eyes at his cockiness, snuggling into his warm embrace, “Of course.”

The Holy Grail of Sam Wilson Fanfic Recs

A list of recommended Sam-positive fanfics and authors by @lunaaltare and @unclesteeb. For more information on how this list was created, click here. 

Just a special reminder to check out @samwilsonbirthdaybang! Let’s keep creating awesome works!

Thank you to everyone who contributed to this list in any way!! HAPPY READING!

Holy Grail of Sam FanFic Recs And Authors:

Dreadnought by lunaaltare [Sam/Steve/Bucky, 60k, Explicit]

It’s 2015. So when a Nazi organization bags and kidnaps a bisexual black man to be their next asset, he guesses they’re trying their hand at this whole progressive thing, too. 

Make Me Your Home by Unclesteeb [Sam/Steve, 3k, Teen]

Sometimes, things need more than dusting and cleaning. Sometimes, things just require a lot of hard work.

When There’s Rain Showers by AmarieMelody [Sam/Bucky, 12k, Explicit]

In which Sam and Bucky are married and have a certain code language.

Humor, fluff, more humor, and gratuitous smut at the end.

Keep reading

Come Back to Me (Part Six)

Fandom: Marvel
Ship: Peter Parker x Reader
Requested: Yes
Genre: Angstish
Warnings: None

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

Originally posted by stallingdemons

Peter and you had pretended that what you had been calling in your head “The Incident” never happened. He never repeated the words of “I always worry about you”, you never held his arm in your grip for more than a mere few seconds, he never cradled your face with his hands, and you never realized you loved him. To the two of you, it was like the day never existed.

You both moved on, acting as you normally would, but you were much more conscious of your actions. You thought Peter was, too. You didn’t act on impulse and grab his arm, or hand, or lean into him without thinking. And he didn’t leave you with small touches as he walked past you in the hallway, or ask constantly with a blatant worried expression how you were doing.

And you didn’t mind. You were best friends, not lovers. You didn’t mind.

“What’s up with you and Peter?” Ned suddenly appeared next to you as you stood in line to get on the bus, ready for the school field trip to take up the day of classes.

“I- what?” You asked, looking at him confusedly. You weren’t sure why he was asking this.

“You and Peter. You guys have been acting weird around each other lately. What happened?”

You still looked at him, confused. “Nothing happened. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Did you tell him you liked him or something, because-”

“Shhh!” You hushed him immediately, placing your hands over his mouth. “Someone could hear you!”

He grabbed your wrists, removing them from his mouth, but still holding onto them. “Just tell him already,” he said, quieter this time.

“You know I can’t do that, Ned,” you replied back, furrowing your eyebrows.

You loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

You tried to push the thought out of your mind, and you had been trying to do so ever since “The Incident”. But with the words continuously repeating in your head, day in and day out, you didn’t think they would ever leave.

“I think-”

“Hey guys,” you heard Peter’s voice from behind you and whipped your head towards him, worried about how much of the conversation he had heard. As you and Ned both looked at him, he met neither of your eyes. His were trained one where Ned’s hands were clasped around your wrists.

You turned your eyes back to look at Ned, and both of your eyes widened when you realized what Peter was staring at. He let you rip your wrists from his grasp, and he shoved his hands into his pockets after letting yours go. You looked down at the ground nervously. 

“What’s up?” Ned spoke, looking at Peter. You took a few seconds to compose yourself before looking at him too. His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked between the two of you.

“Uh, nothing, I just,” he didn’t look either of you in the eye. “Ned, want to sit with me on the bus?”

You bit your lip. You remembered that you and Peter had agreed to sit on the bus together just last week. You didn’t say anything when Ned said, “Sure.”

You looked down at the ground as Ned moved in front of you to stand next to Peter, and you were stood behind them as they spoke in lightning speed between them. That was never how it was with you and Peter. The two of you would speak slowly, listening intently to each other’s words to not miss even a detail of what was said. 

You liked it that way. You liked how Peter would furrow his eyebrows lightly, biting his lip as he stared at you, looking as if he was concentrating to all of his ability, solely on you. You liked how he would murmur little “mhm”s as you would go on, and he would only start speaking when he was sure you were done. You liked how he listened to you.

It was a vast difference from seeing him now, and you wondered which way he preferred: fast-paced with Ned, or slow-paced with you. You always thought he preferred how he spoke with you, but now, seeing him grin with Ned as they easily threw words back at each other within seconds, you weren’t so sure.

You looked down at the ground sadly. You never remembered feeling so lonely before, especially with Peter always making sure to include you in everything. You turned around and walked out of the line without saying anything to the two boys who seemed to not even notice you leave. You glanced behind your shoulder as you were walking away, but you were only greeted by the sight of Peter still grinning at Ned.

“Hey, (Y/N),” you heard a voice say ahead of you and you looked up to see Michelle waiting in line, a few people back from where you previously stood, with a book in her hands.

“Oh, hey,” you forced a smile on your face, but the only thought that was bombarding your mind was, 

You love him. He doesn’t love you. You love him. He doesn’t love you.

“Want to sit with me?” She asked, a knowing smile on her face. You gave her a real smile in response, moving into the space next to her.

“Thanks, MJ,” you said softly, head leaning back down to aim at the floor.

“He looked back at you,” she said, opening her book and beginning to read it. She stared down at it as you lifted your head to stare at her.

“What?” You asked, confused.

“Peter,” she elaborated, and your heart sped up at the mention of his name.

You needed to get this under control.

“What about Peter?” You asked, looking ahead of the line at him and Ned, where you saw them still talking.

“He looked back at you when you turned around and came my way.”

Your eyes widened the smallest bit. You didn’t want to believe her words so easily, because for all you could know, she was only telling you this to cheer you up. But still, you found your sadness deflate slightly.

“No, he didn’t,” you said, trying to convince yourself. “I turned around and looked. He was still talking to Ned.”

“Right when you turned around and started walking away,” she said. She was still looking at her book, but you weren’t so sure she was actually reading it. “He looked at you for a second. And when you turned around to look at him, he turned back around to Ned.” 

“I, uh,” you stumbled over your words, not quite knowing what to think.

Why hadn’t he said anything? You and Peter would always be immediate to speak up if noticing something was wrong with the other. Neither of you ever hesitated on that. So why had he today?

“He looked at me,” you said monotonously, but Michelle knew it was a question. She knew you needed to hear it again.

“He looked at you,” she replied. She looked up from her book for a few moments to meet your eyes. “He looked a little worried to me, if I’m being honest.” She quirked her eyebrow at you for a quick second, smirking lightly, before looking back down at her book.

You looked back down to the ground, thinking.

But why didn’t he say anything?

***************************
I know it may seem like it’s taking a while for them to get together (or will they end up together?), but I want to make sure it’s realistic enough. After being friends for years, neither of them would want to chance ruining their friendship so easily by confessing after not being completely sure about themselves—and each other—yet. I hope you guys understand that! Let me know what you guys think of this one and voice your opinions! Whether they’re good or bad, I want to hear them! Requests are open, and if you guys want to send something from a prompt list I reblog, please let me know which list you’re asking from!

~e

Cheerleading IS a sport | JJ

Request: a dom!jungkook smut when y/n is a cheerleader and he is like the player of the sport and yeah they could like have the fun in the changing room~

Pairing: Dom!Jungkook, Football!Jungkook X Cheerleader!Reader

Summary: Y/n, best flyer on the cheerleading squad. Jungkook, best kicker and scorer on the football team. What will happen when things get heated between the two all because of something that he just spilled out of his mouth.

Genre: Smut, Angst, Smut

Warnings: Swearing, dirty talk, Dominant!Jungkook, Sub!Reader, hospital handjob, cocky asshole Jungkook

Word Count: 3k+

Keep reading

Ink and Kisses

Anon said to moi:

“Omg i want a tattoo artist jungkook!!!!!! 😭😩 smut/fluff/and honestly anything!!!! I just love tattoos artists jungkook but there aren’t alot of those fanfic…. can u help a poor girl out ??💖”

FIRst time trying a Tattoo artist AU. I had to do some reading before this, and JK is sO sexy i s2g. Still weird that I don’t really ever feel like doing the do with him. HOPE YOU ENJOY <3 1,400 Words

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Tattooist au!

Part 1 | Part 2 (FINAL)

Originally posted by nnochu

No one would have ever imagined that hardcore badass Jeon Jungkook, the most well-known tattoo artist in the town, the guy who dropped out to follow his passion, was best friends with beautiful, sweet, top-scoring university student, Y/N. 

Physically, they seemed to be polar opposites. He had dragons inked onto his skin, three piercings on his left ear and two on his right, and always wore black; whilst you were a bright, clean slate – but you knew that was what he loved about you.

Keep reading

“Kissing Booth”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (College AU)

Summary: After Nat volunteers your services at the kissing booth, you find yourself sitting across from you is none other than your best friend.

a/n: i swear this is my last unedited 7-minute one-shot. but today i was reminded of a personal experience and quickly jotted it down in story format. 

You feel sick to your stomach as you clutch your water bottle to chest. Alarms ring in your head as you take in the long line snaking around the booth. “I hate you.”

Natasha smirks and gently pats your shoulder. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes,” she coos, her tone so saccharine that it almost betrayed the sharp sarcasm underneath.

Grimacing at the redhead, you chug down the remaining contents of your water bottle. “Who’s brilliant idea was it to have a kissing booth? And I’m not even a part of this sorority! Why am I here?!”

“Because you owe me. I’m not a fan of the kissing booth, but we might as well commit since we’re here. And we’re bringing in some major cash for charity, so look pretty and keep going!”

You grumble under your breath and slump back onto your stool. If past-you hadn’t asked Natasha to look over and edit three major papers on Russian literature for you, you could be eating cotton candy or riding the ferris wheel. But no, here you are working off the last few minutes of your shift at the dreaded kissing booth.

Keep reading

Thievery | Peter Parker x Reader

requested: no

summary: reader is peter’s best friend and has just realized her true feelings. after the school day she is walking home and stops at Delmar’s to get a sandwich where a theif comes in and holds everyone at gunpoint. reader is well trained in fighting and takes him on, unaware that he has powers. spider-man arrives on the scene and things get interesting…

word count: 2252 (sorry it’s so long, got carried away)

a/n: this is my first peter parker one and i’m nervous. also idk how i feel about this but i would be up to writing a part 2..? PLEASE give me feedback, that gives me life. anyway hope you enjoy

part 2

————————

Tucking a strand of Y/H/C hair behind your ear, you steeled yourself to brave the horrors that were the halls of Midtown Science High School. You sucked in a breath and dove in, immediately being shoved from side to side by teenagers preoccupied by their phones, their friends, or their crushes.

“Hey! Hey, Y/N!” You heard your friend Ned shouting for you and pivoted to face him, nearly causing yourself to collide with a huge dude with a mohawk. Luckily, Ned managed to grab your arm and yank you over to him.

Gasping a sigh of relief you thanked him, “Ned, you just saved my life.” To which he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah Y/N, he’s a real spider-man, better actually.” You heard the sarcasm dripping from his mouth before you saw your best friend in the world: Peter Parker. He came into view with his slightly-disheveled (but in a good way) hair. You averted your eyes immediately, feeling that tight sensation in the pit of your stomach. Unfortunately, your inability to meet his eyes did not go unnoticed and Peter’s face melted into worry, “Hey, Y/N? You ok?” His voice was ridden with worry but you just brushed it off.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, just thought I might’ve dropped something.” You mumbled your excuse, gesturing to your overflowing hands with a short nod and flashed him an empty smile. He cocked his eyebrows at you, clearly knowing something was up, but let it go.

“Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight and have a Star Wars marathon with us?” Ned asked as he finished locking away his supplies in his locker and slamming it shut with an ear piercing metal bang. You considered his offer, on one hand you loved hanging out with them, you guys always laughed a lot and a new inside joke came out of every single one of these sleepovers. On the other hand, just this week you noticed something that once realized, could not be shoved to the side; you were falling in love with Peter, fast.

Recognizing your hesitation Ned used his persuasive sing-song voice, “There will be Doritosssss…you’re favorite.” He poked you in the side and you threw your head back and giggled. You glanced sideways at Ned, taking in his goofy grin, raised eyebrows and squinted eyes awaiting your response, and then you couldn’t wait any longer and you met Peter’s gaze. He was looking at you with a small smile and his eyes sparkled light brown with sincere affection. Dammit.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun, who’s house?” You gave in, knowing it was in your best interest both to have fun and because they would fight you on it until you said yes anyway. Both the teenage boys’ faces lit up with excitement.

“5:30!! My house.” Peter exclaimed, clapping his hands together in victory. You snorted a bit and nodded.

“I’ll be there. Alright, I have to run home to clean my room and I want to stop at Delmar’s on the way. Peter you wanna come with? It’s right near your apartment.” You let it slip before you could think better of it. Peter got the face that said “I really want to come but…” and you knew exactly what was coming.

“I have the Stark internship…” You said it in unison with him, earning a small smirk and a sigh, “I’m sorry but I really do need to just finish… some, stuff.. before we all hang out.” You nodded and called a goodbye, turning just too early to see the sorrowful look on his face. He wanted to be with you more than you knew…


“Hey Mr. Delmar!” You called as you entered the bodega. The large man behind the counter smiled at you as you made your way to the fat cat on the counter.

“Hola Y/N. You want a number 3? No pickles?” He asks you, you nod in approval.

“Oh you know me so well,” You shot him a wide smile and then began to scan the aisles to pass the time. You strolled past a mother with her little boy and noted that he was grasping a spider-man toy in his hand and tugging at his mother’s arm.

“Mommy, Mommy, wook, I make Pider-man go flying to help.” His baby lisp only made the entire scene that much cuter, his mother looked down and smiled at him, “Yes baby, Spider-man will always protect you.” You felt your heart leap. You always felt this weird connection to the idea of Spider-man, more-so than any other hero.

“So, Y/N, where is your boyfriend?” You hear Mr. Delmar call as you round the aisle closest to him. He rests an elbow on the counter and raises a single eyebrow in an eerie knowing way. You narrow your eyes at him and prepare to give him the “He’s not my boyfriend speech” that you give him at least twice a week. But you stopped short when his eyes went wide and he raised his hands in submission. He cocked his head at you as an attempt to tell you to get away.

“Put your hands in the air,” You heard a rough voice and then felt a jab in your lower back… a gun. You did as he said and felt him pin your hands together and place them where the gun was, which was now by your head. You felt your heartbeat in your neck and everything seemed to slow down. You saw the woman pull her son behind the furthest aisle, she locked eyes with you and you felt her fear echoed in your face.

“Give me the money, NOW” He shouted at Mr. Delmar, who looked at you with the concern of a parent and did as he said, pulling open the cash register. Pulling yourself out of the haze of fear you forced yourself to remember your training. Closing your eyes tight you drew in a serene breath, One, Two, Three.

Throwing your elbow back, you stomped on his booted foot. He drew away from you with a wheeze of surprise and pain. You threw a hard right hook and distracted him as Mr. Delmar reached for the phone and dialed 911. You actually started to have the upper hand as you kicked out his right foot and he fell to his knee, but then something turned the tables, his hands began to steam and his ski mask caught fire… shit


Peter always followed you home before he started searching for crime, only leaving you if he sees a problem or hears sirens. He was sitting up on top of the building behind the ATM across the street from Delmar’s swinging his legs back and forth and waiting for you to return to view with a sandwich in hand. He pulled his phone out of the side pocket of his backpack and scrolled through to see if he had any new texts from Ned. You were taking longer than usual, he stood up on the edge of the building, careful not to be seen, since he was wearing the Spider-man suit, and searched for you.

Peter knew something was up, he couldn’t keep hiding the secret from you, and eventually Ned would probably let it slip. He thought back to earlier this afternoon when you wouldn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t want to lose you but he didn’t want to put you in jeopardy with you knowing.

“Karen, can I hear what’s happening in there?” Peter asked his suit lady.

“Engaging enhanced reconnaissance mode” He then heard a commotion and could see the heat signatures of two people fighting. Suddenly, however, one of the figures had their hands and head light up red-hot. Shit, Y/N was in there. Peter shot up and jumped from his perch onto the ATM building and then swung down to Delmar’s, blasting through the door. Nobody would hurt Y/N…


You pulled away from the burning man and backed up as far as you could. But you remembered the frightened woman and decided to try and lead him away from them, “Come on, I’m just a teenager why don’t you come get me?” That was the wrong thing to say, he hurled a fireball at your head. You narrowly avoided it but fell to the floor, tripping over a fallen newspaper stack. Your heart caught in your throat as he moved to stand over you, pulling off his mask to reveal a devilish smirk.

“What are you going to do now, babyface?” He growled at you, showcasing his cracked and missing teeth. You cringed away just kind of moving backwards an inch.

“She doesn’t have to do anything, because I will.” Your head whipped up to find the source of the familiar voice. What you found you couldn’t believe… It was him! Spider-man. He shot a web into the middle of the mans chest and used it to pull him forward, he kicked the man in the chest and then looked over at you. “Get everyone out of here! Get to safety.” You looked up at him mesmerized, taking a moment to fully absorb his words and then nodded profusely. You pulled yourself up, muscles aching from the combat you just did and scurried over to huddled mother. 

“Please, you have to get out of her.” The woman nodded and gripped her son tightly, sprinting for the door as he kept pointing at the real version of the small action figure in his hand. You nodded at Mr. Delmar and he began to get employees out. You slowly leaned around one of the aisles to see where they were. Spider-man was locked in combat with him, continuously shooting webs that would melt over his hands so that the punches didn’t burn. You saw that no one else was left in the store and looked around for an exit route. You were blocked in, they had moved over by the doorway. You wanted to help the hero but didn’t know how. Then it occurred to you.

You leaned close to the ground and made your way to the ice cream refrigerator on the wall on the wall. Desperately, you flung the door open and began ripping ice cream off the walls, until there was enough space for you to be able to fit in it. You stood in front of it and then prepared yourself for bravery you were pretty sure you didn’t actually have.

“Hey! Hot-Head! Come at me, I bet I can still take you.” He turned to you and smiled. You turned around fast to make sure the open fridge was right behind you.

“What-what’re you doing!?” Spider-man shouted, but you shook your head, letting the man get closer. His hands caught fire and he pushed you until you were up against the freezer and you caught eyes with Spider-man. You had about 2 seconds to get him to understand. You gestured your head back, ducked down and pushed yourself on the floor between the mans legs and shouted, “WEB HIM.”

In a second a stream of webs shot over your head and sealed the man in the freezer, door still open (you weren’t trying to kill him). Spider-man walked forward and webbed him over and over again. And you knew your theory worked, the fridge counteracted his heat and he could not melt the webs.

When he was done webbing the thief, Spider-man turned to you and cocked his head in a weirdly familiar way, “Thank you, that was really brave..” He seemed confused but also satisfied and sort of… proud?

“Yeah- uh, no of course.” You replied nervously, noticing that he seemed to have made his voice lower since the last time he talked. You took in his muscles and felt a blush creep over your face.

“Listen, I kind of have to go, the cops are going to get here soon and I really don’t want to have to explain to my parents what happened, also I want to be able to hang out with my friends. They’d never let me leave the house again after this…” You gestured to the scene around you. The masked hero nodded. 

“I get it… more than you know. Come here, I can help.” He motioned for you to come outside by the door with him. “Hold on tight.” He grabbed you around the waist once you were out and shot a web, lifting you into the air. It was exhilarating and you felt your hair whipping around your face. However, the joy ride was short. Spider-man brought you to the ground 3 buildings over from Delmar’s just as the first responders arrived on the scene. Miraculously he took you in the direction of your house.

“Now you don’t have to worry, get home safe. I don’t recommend any more stops tonight.” Spider-man said to you. There was a note of deep concern in his voice and again it felt familiar.

“Thank you,” You whispered breathless. Staring at a real hero, one whom you had just helped catch a villain was unreal. He didn’t answer, he merely raised a gloved hand and smoothed down your unruly hair. Then without warning he shot a web out to his right and swung out of view.

Something in your stomach was telling you that you knew the face underneath that mask, but you tucked away that nagging feeling and hauled-ass home.

love letters ❥ peter parker

summary : peter, hopeless romantic that he is, has a cache of love letters, all addressed to you, hidden under his bed and expertly crafted. he never anticipated them being read, or the feelings he has for you being returned.

word count : 3.1k (holy fucking hell i’m sorry)

   Peter couldn’t help it, the way that he was. He was a romantic at a heart, though the awkwardness of him had a tendency to prevail rather than the confident, smooth talking, small part of him that had a desperate desire to reveal itself. Spider-man was as suave as a fifteen year old boy could be; Peter Parker was awkward, inept at participating in normal, human conversation and often incapable of forming coherent sentences more often than not. He wasn’t the best at talking to people besides Ned and Aunt May and- on occasion- Tony Stark. Especially not you. If there was one person that he turned into an absolute bumbling, ridiculous mess around, it was you. He loathed himself for it, sure that you thought that he was weird, annoying, the same way that anyone who didn’t know him assumed he was. 

   Ned, however, continuously insisted that you found Peter to be a sweetheart, like anyone who got to know him well enough did, and that you liked him very much- perhaps more than a friend, though Peter had immediately scoffed at the notion. It was out of the question, downright ludicrous. But, of course, Ned had implanted the idea in Peter’s head, and now the boy’s ever creative mind refused to stop constructing various scenarios in which you were Peter’s girlfriend and he was as happy as he had ever been. 

    While he had been a perfectly charming boyfriend in each and every one of those little dream sequences of his, he was hopelessly lost for words whenever you approached him, unable to even ask what class you had next, let alone reveal the pure adoration he had been holding on to ever since you had been placed beside him in Bio in your freshman year. You had always been the one to stick up for him and smile at him and treat him like a decent human being, and so of course he fell for you, and now he could barely look you in the eye without his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. So, he bottled his feelings and let them out in a way he had never known could help him.

    He wrote. 

    He wrote to you every single day and poured his heart out in every single letter and expressed every thought he knew, in his heart, he would never be able to say out loud. Writing what he felt was so much simpler than saying the words out loud. That was what he assumed, anyhow. He took his pen and placed it down on the paper, starting it the same way he always did. 

   Dear Y/N… As always, the words spilled over from his mind to the paper as if he wasn’t thinking, just writing and writing and writing until he had filled two pages without lifting his curly head from the paper once. When he finally finished, a yawn stretching across his mouth, he noticed Aunt May standing outside his door. He turned his chair around, raising his eyebrows at her. 

   “Writing to that pretty girl again?” She asked, hand on her hip but wearing a knowing, soft grin. Peter, not bothering to feign shock, nodded solemnly and placed his pen down the paper. “You should think about maybe, oh I don’t know, actually giving her one of the letters you’ve written?” 

    Adamantly, Peter shook his head. “May, I could never. You don’t get it.” He swiveled around in the chair, spinning it until he was dizzy. “These letters are embarrassing. They’re practically my whole heart and soul on a piece of paper. She’d scream and run away if she read how I felt about her.” He sighed, placing his elbow on the edge of the desk and resting his cheek in his hand. He stared up at his aunt, still craving her sage advice. May stared back at him thoughtfully. 

   “Well, in my personal experience,” she came over and gave Peter’s shoulder a squeeze, eyeing the letter that was signed with Peter’s name, “girls are suckers for love letters. And you Parker men write the best ones out there. Trust me.” 

   Peter bit his lip. “Yeah, sure, I’m not an awful writer. But, I still can’t give them to her. I just can’t.” Before she could say anything else, he was folding it up and placing it on top of the shelf on his desk next to his books for English. “Uncle Ben was different. He was charming. You know that.” 

    May smiled wistfully. “I do.” 

    “And that’s one thing that I didn’t get from him,” Peter finished, shrugging his shoulders as he stood up from his swivel chair. “It’s fine.” He waved it off. “I’m happy suffering in silence. I’m gonna go to bed. Big English project starts tomorrow. Love you,” he kissed May on the cheek as she left his bedroom, switching the light off in her departure. He stared at the wall once he was situated in bed, mulling the conversation over in his head. Maybe May’s right. Maybe telling Y/N wouldn’t be as bad as I’m thinking. Maybe I’m overreacting. Actually, never mind. She probably hates me. Ugh. Life sucks. 


    That morning, when he arrived in his English class, you were sitting in the seat that had been previously occupied by Ned pretty much every class since the beginning of the school year. Sucking in a breath, Peter took his first step into the classroom. He knew he was a little late to today’s lesson, but he hadn’t realized he was a full fifteen minutes behind schedule. Ned was in the back with Michelle, giving Peter an encouraging thumbs up when he noticed his best friend finally arrive on the scene. Peter gave him the finger. 

   “Mr. Parker, lovely for you to join us!” Ms. Matthews declared when he decided to shove himself through the door, his heart jackhammering away in his chest and making its way up to his throat. He kind of wanted to throw up. 

   “Um, yeah, well, you know, sleep and whatnot- overslept, haha,” he coughed out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. The teacher nodded with faux sympathy, though he could tell she didn’t care that much for his explanation. “I’ll just, um, sit. Down.” 

    “Next to Y/N, please,” She instructed, waving her hand in your direction. “Since you were late and unable to choose your own partner, surprising since usually Ned is so eager to work with you, Y/N offered to be your partner.” The teacher gave you a fond smile, as every teacher did. “She can explain the details of the assignment.” 

    Peter gave her a stiff nod before sliding into his chair, and you noticed how rigid he was as he turned toward you with a slight frown. He seemed extremely upset to be working with you, but you wouldn’t let that get in the way. You liked Peter. Really, truly liked him. He was a sweetie whenever he actually talked to and different than the rest of the guys at Midtown. He was genuine.  

    Giving him your full attention, you beamed at him. “Hey, Peter,” you said cheerfully. He gave you a small smile in return, wringing his hands under the desk. He couldn’t stop fidgeting. Your own smile dropped, which he noticed immediately and felt awful about. “Sorry you didn’t get paired up with Ned,” you continued, taking your books out of your shoulder bag. “I know you would’ve preferred it that way-” 

    “No!” He interrupted quickly, practically slamming his hands down on the desk so hard you jumped in your seat, eyes wide. “Sorry, sorry, I just, um,” he laughed a little, his cheeks burning, “I’m, um, happy to have you as a partner. Really, I am,” he added as an afterthought, just to make sure you knew. 

   Your shoulders relaxed as you looked at him. “You’re not just saying that, right? You seem awfully stiff,” you teased, poking his uncomfortably positioned arm as you quirked a brow. 

    “Do I?” He was practically sweating. 

     “I was just joking, Pete. It’s cute, anyway.” Peter’s eyes, a shade of brown that you had come to think of as warm as honey, went wide and he gaped at you, but you pretended not to notice. “So, for the assignment we have to write a short story based on one of the assigned reading books this year.” 

   She called me cute

   “Shit… I think I forgot all of mine,” you were mumbling, your head practically stuck in your bag. “Did your bring yours, Peter?” 

   Oh my god, she thinks I’m cute. She thinks I’m cute. I’m going to faint

   You snapped your fingers in front of his cherry red face, trying not to appear as amused as you felt. He blinked owlishly, an apologetic half smile, half grimace on his face. He was cute most of the time, but especially when he smiled, even if it was only a forced, awkward one. “Do you have your books, Peter?” You repeated kindly. 

    “Um, sorry, I’ll check,” he answered, embarrassed about his utterly obvious staring that had just occurred. He rummaged around in his backpack before realizing he had forgotten them, as well. He popped back up, curls in disarray as his head brushed against the fabric of his bag. “I forgot them, sorry,” he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. It was kind of adorable.

   “You need to stop apologizing for everything, Pete,” you laughed. “It’s fine. We can get started after school. My place or yours?” You were already packing your things, and before he could think about what he was about to do, he said, “Mine.”   

    “Cool,” you grinned again, a grin that made him want to smile for the rest of his life. “Which one of is doing the writing? Or do you want to split it?” 

    “You’re a, um, fantastic writer,” he told you, having read your submissions to the school newspaper more times than he could count. “If you wanna take over, you can. I can edit and stuff.” 

    “Aw, I’m not that good,” you shook your head abashedly, looking down at your lap. “But thank you, Peter. I’m sure you’re great, too, though. Are you sure you don’t wanna write some of it?”

    “I’m not much of a writer.”


    So, you were in Peter Parker’s room. He was having his third heart attack of the day, and was incredibly grateful that he had managed to keep his wits about him for majority of the day. He had only tripped over his words five times, tripped literally twice, and dropped his Metro card once, but it was fine. You helped him back each time he fell with your usual grace, barely acknowledging his multiple social faux pas and only laughing once because he fell over a small dog- which even he would admit was pretty funny. 

   Still, his palms were sweaty around you and he didn’t know how he was going to survive working so close to you for the next week while the English assignment was occurring. He lead you into his apartment and you noticed that his hands were shaking slightly as he twisted the keys in the lock. You walked into the apartment, the first thing crossing your mind was how cozy and homelike it was. You liked it very much. 

   “It’s really cute in here,” you said, smiling around the room as Peter busied himself with a glass of water. He downed it quickly. “Where’s your aunt?” 

   “Work,” he replied, catching his breath after the gulping down of his water. “Here, let’s go to my room.” He placed his glass of water on the counter and motioned for you to follow him, opening the door to his room and wincing at the mess in there. “It’s a mess, sorry about that.”  

   You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Didn’t I say stop apologizing?” You entered his room as if you had been there many times before, taking your shoes off and setting them by the door. You threw your bag on his bed and took a seat in his swivel chair, and he liked how natural it seemed for you to be in his room. He liked how comfortable you were, sitting there. Something about it made him happy. 

   “Yeah, my bad,” he shrugged. You tilted your head, pointing your finger at him while he raised his hands defensively. “It wasn’t technically an apology!” He took a step out of the room. He was finally being normal around you, he realized delightedly. He would still need more water, though. He could feel his mouth getting dry. “I’m gonna get more water. Want anything?” You shook your head, spinning around in the chair as he left. 

   Your eyes scanned over his desk, taking in every inch of Peter Parker’s life. He had bad books stacked everywhere, his desk was a mess, there were clothes thrown about the room. Star Wars posters, Avengers posters, notes scattered across the desk. You admired the artful messiness of it all. You leaned up to where his English books were, spotting the one you were most interested in and yanking it off the shelf. As you did, a folded piece of paper fluttered down off the shelf, just when Peter was walking back into the room. 

   “I thought you said you weren’t a writer, Pete,” you raised your eyebrows at him, holding the letter in your hand and waving it at him. 

   He almost threw up right there. “Um, I’m not, please give that back,” he reached for it, but you jumped out of the chair, raising the letter high in the air. “Y/N!” He whined, grabbing for it again. “C’mon, please,” he pleaded desperately, pouting at you with such intensity it almost made you want to give it to him. 

    “Can’t I just read a sentence, Peter?” You pushed out your bottom lip, batting your eyelashes at him. 

     He almost gave in. “No, Y/N. Seriously, give it back.” He sounded scared now, upset as well. You pursed your lips, handing it back to him. He was so anxious about you reading it that it dropped on the floor, opening far enough so that you could see your name scrawled across the top in Peter’s defining chicken scratch handwriting. 

    “That says my name, so now I have to read it.” You stood directly in front of Peter, hands pressed together in a pleading motion, the expression on your face so genuinely interested that he had to give it to you. He picked it back up with a lump in his throat and handed it over, scared as ever. But this was what May had advised. Maybe she’d be right. 

    “Dear Y/N,” you read aloud in a loud, terrible accent, glancing back up at Peter as you read the line after that. He was staring down at the floor, preparing himself for what you were going to say when you read the letter, read his heart. You sat in his chair, realizing it’d be better if you didn’t read it so publicly. He sat down on his bed, waiting. 

   Dear Y/N. This is maybe the tenth letter I’ve written to you, and each time I say the same thing, so if one day you are reading this in proper succession, I’m sorry for being so utterly repetitive. You’ll probably never read this, though. And that’s why it’s so easy for me to write. I think you’re the only person to ever truly be interested in me when I’m talking about science. Not even Ned has an attention span that long. But you do. And you don’t know how much I want to thank you for that. You make it really difficult to not like you, to not be in love with you. I think that’s what it is… love. And if I’m not in love with you yet, then I’m certainly falling for you. Who wouldn’t? You’re a wonderful person without trying, you’re a beautiful hurricane, a sunset on the horizon of my bleakest hours, and you make me feel as if I’ve been standing in the sunshine for my entire life. 

   You put the letter down, smoothing it over your lap. You didn’t need to read the rest. That was enough. Peter gazed at you now, the way you’ve yearned to be looked at before, and you shamed yourself for being so blind these past two years. He wasn’t simply just staring. He was looking. Admiring. You slid next to Peter, placing the letter behind you. He moved his hand, curling his fingers around yours tentative as ever. Your free hand grazed up the side of his face, toying with the hair on the back of his neck before resting on his cheek. He shut his eyes. When he opened them again, you were so close that he was able to count each individual eyelash that you had, every single fleck of pure beauty in your deep eyes. 

   “I like you very much, Peter Parker,” you murmured. He felt his heart soar, and then, he felt himself kiss you. It was an out of body experience. He was there, he was the one kissing you, the one who had initiated it, but it felt like he wasn’t. He was up in the clouds, too far lost in the way it felt to run his hands through your hair as he had always dreamed of to notice Aunt May sneaking past the door, overjoyed to see Peter finally with the girl he had been loving in silence for far too long. You pulled away from each other, eyes opening slowly and hesitantly and your lips practically still connected. 

   He wanted to tell her that he adored her, but Aunt May’s voice flowed from the kitchen too loud to overpower his thoughts. “You read her the letter, didn’t you? I told you it’d work! Worked for your Uncle Ben and I was right as I always am!”

   He jumped up from the bed, sticking his head out of the doorway and pressing his finger to his lips. “Maaaayyyy, you’re embarrassing me,” he whispered-yelled, practically whined. “You were right, okay? Thank you, let me go get a girlfriend now. The girlfriend.” She beamed at him, but no one’s smile could shine brighter than Peter’s. 

    He retreated back into the room, and you were clutching the letter in your hands. You looked up at him hopefully. “I was thinking that maybe you could read me the other nine letters. If you’re up for it.” 

    Peter couldn’t possibly say no, taking a page out of his Uncle Ben’s book the way he should have done in the first place as he found the hiding spot for the stack of letters he had been writing for the past few months, sliding them over to you and feeling confident for the first time in a long time.

they call her maid maleen

for the first few trembling years of her life, she is a princess. she is the daughter to the king, born of his beloved wife and of her visage. her dark eyes have the appearance of a smoky quarts and her mother carefully twists her mass of black hair into a hundred small braids down her back. she is a beautiful, quiet child, and for a while all is well. they call her princess maleen.

then her mother dies. it seems as if the king is determined to bury his love for his daughter along with his queen. he moves her to a different wing of the castle, and refuses to see her. her tutors are let go, and the nobles’ children are no longer allowed to play with her. only the maids look after her now.

the king remarries. the new queen gives birth to a son, and maleen is forgotten completely, banished from a home she still resides in and a life she can now only watch unfold.

the maids take care of her, braid her hair and kiss the blisters on her fingers, teach her to scrub at porcelain and polish silver, to clean a fireplace and mop polished marble floors.

they call her maid maleen.

~

the king has a son by his new wife, and then a daughter. they are pale and fair-haired like their mother, with only their dark eyes to show they are the king’s children. but they inherit none of their parents’ beauty, have faces that don’t look quite right and bodies that get stuck between gangly and chubby and never settle into one or the other. princess gisella and prince jan are privately regarded as unfortunate products of a lovely union.

maid maleen spends long hours working, and has neither the time nor funds for creams to soften her skin or oils to care for her hair, has never used face powder or lip color.

maid maleen is twenty three years old, and the most beautiful woman in the kingdom.

her braids are wrapped carefully atop her head, but when she lets them loose they hang past her hips. her dark skin is made even darker thanks to long hours working in the palace garden, and her eyes have never lost that same curious light. she walks straight and strong, years of hard labor giving her muscles and definition to her body that she never would have had as a princess. boys and girls give her long, considering looks and flirtatious smiles, and nobles have to double-take when she passes them by.

no one speaks of it anymore. but maid maleen looks ever more like her beautiful late mother, has the same eyes as her father, and dressing in ill-fitting cast offs and running her ragged can’t hide the truth.

maid maleen is the king’s daughter.

she has accepted her life as a maid in the palace she was one day set to inherit, and tries to see it as a gift. she sleeps with who she likes, may marry whichever of the charming boys from the city who’s smile she likes best. in the maids who raised her she has more mothers than she has fingers, and perhaps she longs for the days when she was a small princess, when she was the apple of her parents’ eye, when the whole of their nation was to be hers to inherit.

but then the blacksmith’s daughter lets her hands linger a little too long on her wrists, and maleen knows that she won’t be sleeping alone tonight. there are some things that worth more to her than a throne she was born to. she doesn’t miss the little girl she used to be.

until.

tensions have always run high between their kingdom and the neighboring one – too many squabbles over borders, over trade agreements, over patrols, over anything and everything the kings can find a reason to be upset about, it seems like. so when prince wolfgang is sent over, the whole palace is abuzz. the prince seems determined to inherit a peaceful land, and is coming over to talk with the king to do it.

maleen does not care for princes. nor for nobles of any rank, in fact. she remembers how they turned on her, she sees the small acts of pettiness and cruelty they thoughtlessly inflict on their servants, and she wants nothing to do with it. commoners may not be as educated as nobles, may not have as many objects to call their own, but maleen finds she prefers their company to that of lords. she’s uninterested in this prince, which is perhaps why she’s the one that gets sent to his rooms. her moms can trust that she at least won’t fawn over him.

“sir wolfgang,” she murmurs, pushing open his door and giving a low curtsy, keeping her eyes trained on his mud covered boots. “is there anything you require?”

silence. she can only stay bent in a curtsey so long before she loses patience. she’s almost given up on him, is about to cut her losses and call it a night when he says, hesitant, “queen sabine?”

her mother’s name is punch to her gut, and her head snaps up at the sound of it, the rolling fire of her temper bubbling just below her skin. “i am maid maleen,” she snaps, then tacks on “your highness,” after a moment’s consideration.

his cloak is half unbuttoned as he stares at her with a slack mouth. she supposes he would not look unhandsome if he were not currently doing his best to imitate a frog. he appears to be only a handful of years older than she is, and if she were not furious she would be impressed that he remembers her mother well enough to see sabine in her.

“maleen,” he repeats, and for a moment she wonders if he will recognize her as well, but he only says, “my apologies. if you would help me with my cloak, i would be much obliged.”

she’s instantly suspicious. she’s met nice nobles before, ones that were considerate and remembered her name and thanked her when she brought them wine. but she’s never met a nice prince before – they’re always of the worst sort. “yes, your highness,” she says, and the cloak is soaked through and clinging, it’s no wonder he’s struggling with it. once she’s gotten it off she hangs it to dry, then goes back to him. she slaps away his numb, struggling fingers and undoes the rest of the buckles and loops of his overly complicated clothing. she’s gotten down him down to an undershirt and pants when his hands grab hers. she blinks and looks up. he has freckles dusting across his nose.

“this is inappropriate,” he says, but honestly she’s stripped a lot of nobles, it wasn’t weird until he took her hands and looked at her like no one’s ever looked at her before.

“yes, your highness,” she agrees, and takes a step back. she places his clothes in front of a fire, curtsies, and leaves. she can feel the weight of his gaze on her all the way back to her room.

wolfgang continues his diplomatic agenda, having long meetings with the royal family. after, maleen goes and tends to him, setting out his food and taking care of his clothes, straightening up any mess that he’s made. at first he’s quiet, and he just watches her, but he quickly discovers that maleen has opinions and thoughts and isn’t afraid to share them. soon they’re debating the finer points of trade routes and arguing the effectiveness of a sliding tax scale, and maleen comes to cherish the evenings she spends with the prince, likes the way he speaks to her and looks at her, likes the shape of his smile.

weeks in she enters his room, dinner steaming in her hands and eager to continue their conversation about state funded orphanages versus a state funded foster system. he’s pacing and tense, shoulder stiff. “wolfgang,” she sets down the food and wipes her hands on her apron, “is something wrong?”

“is it true?” he asks, and he’s not looking at her. he’s always looked at her before.

“is what true?” she flinches away from his coldness, is already preparing to retreat and hide and beg someone else to watch over him.

he turns to her, and she’s baffled by the mixture of hope and anger on his face. “are you the king’s daughter? are you princess maleen?”

she takes a step back, “i am maid maleen.”

“please,” he follows her as she steps away from him, and her back hits the wall. he stops when he’s almost close enough to touch. “my father sent me here with the goal to seal our new treaty with a marriage. he expects me to marry princess gisella. but if you are the daughter of the king – then he will allow me to marry you instead!”

“who says i want to marry you?” she retorts, but he gets on bended knee and she freezes.

he holds a hand for her own, and against every bit of logic, she gives it to him. “maleen, i’ve never felt this way about anyone. i was willing enough to enter a loveless marriage before i knew what true love is, but now i do, and i can’t go back. marry me.”

she wants to. she thinks she loves him. she hadn’t been planning to fall in love with anyone. “i am the king’s daughter,” she tells him, “but i am no princess. i haven’t been a princess in a long time.”

he brings her hand to his mouth so he can kiss each one of her knuckles, “then we’ll have to change that.”

~

wolfgang goes to the king to make his case, to return maleen to her birthright and allow her to marry him.

it goes even worse than maleen had feared.

her father is furious. he’s so angry at the audacity of this request that prince wolfgang is thrown from the kingdom. so incensed is he, that guards drag maleen from her bed in the middle of the night and throw her into a tower. the door closes shut behind them, and she bangs on it and screams but no one comes for her.

there are no windows, and only one door with a sliding metal grate in the bottom. she’s high in the tower, she thinks, from the number of steps she’d been forced to climb, but she stands on a dirt floor. the room contains only the bare minimum needed for survival, and nothing more.

once a week food is slid through the slot in the door. she has to be careful, because if she eats it too fast they will not provide more, she will just starve. days turn to weeks turn to months, and she despairs of ever being let out of this tower. months turn to years, and she gives up hope entirely of leaving this tower. she considers refusing to eat, killing herself slowly through starvation, because death is preferable to life locked in this tower.

one night there’s a scuffle, and shouting, and for the first time since she was shoved inside the door opens. there’s a guard standing there, and princess gisella tentatively steps inside. “maid ma – i mean, maleen?”

maleen stares. this is the first time she’s seen another person in years, and suddenly for all the screaming she’d done she can’t find her voice. gisella takes another cautious step forward, “maleen, please – we don’t have much time.” she holds out her hand, “come with me.”

gisella is sixteen now. although she’ll never be a great beauty, she’s grown into many of the features that she was once mocked for. “where?” she asks, but takes gisella’s hand and lets her lead them down the twisting staircase. anyplace is better than the tower.

“i’m to be married in a week’s time to prince wolfgang.” maleen feels a sharp pain go through her chest. had wolfgang forgotten her? their farce of a romance was such a quick, shallow thing. she was a fool to fall for it in the first place. “i’m not going to show up. you are.”

she stares, “what?”

“wolfgang started a war over father locking you in the tower,” she explains, “but eventually it got to a point where neither could justify it, so our father and wolfgang’s decided our union would mean peace between our countries, as intended. but i don’t want to marry prince wolfgang, and he does not want to marry me.”

“i don’t understand,” she hadn’t paid much attention to the girl when they were in the palace together, and she’s regretting that now.

they finally reach the end of the tower. it’s the first time she’s breathed fresh air in years. she tries not to get distracted by it, and instead focuses on the carriage to her left, and the pure black mare laden like a pack mule on her right. “i’m leaving,” gisella says, “i don’t want to be wolfgang’s bride because i want to be klaus’s,” the guard smiles, and he must be klaus, the princess is rejecting a prince to run away with a commoner. “there’s a map and everything you need in the saddlebags. the wedding dress is waiting for you at the castle. no one will know you’re not me until wolfgang unveils you, and by then it will be too late. he will marry you, and i will be gone.”

“why are you doing this?” she asks.

gisella shrugs, “you’re my sister, and father is an idiot. i want you to be happy, and i want wolfgang to be happy, and i want to be happy too. this way we all get what we want. our brother will be waiting for you in wolfgang’s castle. he’ll help you.”

maleen is speechless. gisella grabs her in a quick hug – the only one they’ve ever shared – and then goes to the carriage with klaus trailing behind her. “i’ll see you again, princess maleen!”

she doesn’t have time for tears. she gets on the mare, and rides for the palace of the neighboring land.

~

she makes it just in time. she sneaks into the castle the night before the wedding, ducking around servants until she find her way to jan’s door. she knocks, tentative, wondering if this was a mistake and all one elaborate trap. but the door opens and his face slackens in relief, “finally!” he pulls her inside, and sits her down. there’s lukewarm water waiting for her so she can clean herself, and jan stands with his back to her the whole time, outlining the wedding and how it will go so she knows what to expect the next day. “father isn’t here,” he assures her, “he didn’t want to leave the kingdom, so i’m here in his stead.”

“won’t you miss your sister?” maleen finishes washing and wraps herself in a soft blanket.

“when i am king, gisella will return,” he says confidently, “she will come home and bring klaus, and you will rule here with wolfgang, and all will be well. our countries shall be great allies when it is me and wolfgang on the throne.”

he’s only a year older than gisella, just seventeen, and maleen feels oddly old next to them, feels old next to these children who know what they want and take it and don’t let anything stand in their way.

“we need to get your hair rebraided,” he says, “you should look perfect tomorrow. it’s your wedding day.”

she stares, aghast. “that will take all night!”

“i’ve brought help,” he says, and sends a servant down the hall. the servant returns with a half dozen of the maids who raised her, and who crowd forward and hug her and kiss her cheeks and say how much they’ve missed her. princess or not, bride or not, to them she will always be their little maid maleen.

~

it’s clear gisella picked her wedding dress with maleen in mind. it fits her for one thing, and is clinging and heavy, and it must have looked awful on gisella, but on her it’s perfect. her dress is accompanied by white silk gloves and a thick veil so that no one can see her, so that no one will know she’s not the daughter of the king they’re expecting to be there.

wolfgang is at the end of the aisle, looking like he’s going to an execution, and it takes more self control than maleen was anticipating not to go running to him. she turns to him, and he lifts her veil. he sees her and freezes, mouth sliding open. she winks at him, because they just need to keep it together until they’re married, he just has to keep his cool for a few minutes and they’ll have won it all. wolfgang closes his mouth and says nothing about how this is clearly not the bride he was supposed to marry. they turn so none of the guests can see them, and the priest gives maleen a confused look, but with a glare from wolfgang he continues on with the ceremony as if nothing is out of place.

“you may now kiss the bride,” the priest says, after what seems like an eternity.

wolfgang grabs her about the waist, dips her, and kisses her soundly on the mouth. her veil falls off and she can hear the horrified and shocked gasps of the guests, and under that jan’s laughter. when they break apart, foreheads still pressed together, she whispers, “hello, prince wolfgang.”

he kisses her again, quick and sweet, and does nothing at all to disguise the joy in his face. “hello, princess maleen.”

and they all lived happily ever after.


read more retold fairytales here

Through the Years (Part 4)

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

Word Count: 1,459

“Through the Years” Masterlist

A/N: Brace yourselves, guys. It gets crazy now.

Originally posted by almie18


2011

And just like that, you found yourself exchanging letters with a man who lived in the past, whom you had no way of getting to.

Despite everything inside you telling you that you shouldn’t, that the letters would one day stop, that this man was probably not even alive, you continued to write to him, looking forward to each envelope that appeared on your fireplace mantle every other day.

Keep reading

Keagster coda in which Ransom dies and Holster is acting weird

also on ao3

“He’s gone, you know, you can come out.”

Ransom was lying on the floor of the attic, staring up at rafters with his arms splayed at his sides. The bed seemed too far for him to walk when he was in this state. How could he ever walk again when Alexei Mashkov and more importantly, Alexei Mashkov’s ass had been within three feet of him?

“That was so embarrassing,” Ransom moaned, staring up at the ceiling. “You’re going to have to find a new roommate because I’m never showing my face again.”

He’d imagined meeting Tater in various different ways for the last few years, he’d always planned to wow him with his hockey skills. Maybe Tater would show up randomly at one of his games and he’d wait for him after and he’d pull him close and kiss him and tell him that he played beautifully in that thick Russian accent and Ransom would wrap his arms around those thick shoulders and…

“Dude, he’s just a guy,” Holster said, unimpressed. Ransom was vaguely aware of the sound of the mattress creaking across the room as Holster sat down.

“He’s Alexei “Tater” Mashkov,” Ransom said, annoyed. “You’re just a guy. I’m just a guy.”

“Whatever you say, man.”

Ransom’s phone buzzed in his pocket, once, twice…

He reached down and pulled it out

Jack: Can I give Tater your number?

Holy shit. Before Ransom could even process the words Tater and your number in the same sentence his phone buzzed again.

Jack: He asked.

He. Asked. Ransom immediately shot up and ran across the room to fling his phone in Holster’s lap.

“Read. It.”

“He wants your number?”

“He. Wants. My. Number.”

Ransom’s hands were shaking as he took the phone back and sat down next to Holster on the bottom bunk.

“What do I say?”

“You say yes?” Alexei Mashkov wanted his number. Alexei Mashkov, who had spoken exactly four words to during his entire visit.

Ransom: Yeah. Of course. What’s he want with it?

That sounded cool and calm and not like Ransom was freaking out, right?

“Bro, breathe. Come on.” Holster nudged his arm and Ransom stared at him with wide eyes. “This is your second chance, right? If you text him you can actually think about what you’re saying before you say it and he’ll have no idea that you’re a crazy obsessed fan.”

“Screw you,” he muttered. His phone buzzed again and this time…

“IT’S HIM,” Ransom exclaimed, standing up. “Holster, it’s him.”

555-767-9988: Is Alexei ))

555-767-9988: Zimmboni give me your number

“What do I say?”

“Alexei, I love you, let me call you daddy?” Holser said, smirking.

Ransom waved him off. “Stop. This is serious, dude. What do I say?”

“Just…say hi?”

“That’s too boring. He’s going to get bored if I just say hi.”

“Give me the phone.” Holster stood up and grabbed the phone from Ransom’s hand and Ransom immediately tackled him to the ground.

“No! You’re going to say something stupid!” He hissed, as Holster held the phone above his head. “Give it back!”

Holster flipped them over, straddling Ransom’s waist and grinned triumphantly as he typed.

Ransom: Hey. Sorry I didn’t get to talk to you earlier.

“What are you writing? Fuck Holster what are you writing?”

“I just told him you think his ass is better than Jack’s,” he teased, and Ransom let out a wail.

“Get your stupid huge thighs off me and give me my phone!” He exclaimed, pushing Holster backwards so that he could grab the phone from his hands.

Holster handed it back, laughing, and sat up on his forearms, Ransom still half in his lap.

“Fuck. Okay. Fine. This is fine,” Ransom said, looking down at the message. “Shit man, you scared me.”

He looked down at Holster, glasses askew and shirt riding up his torso and laughed. “You’re such a dick.”

“A dick who’s helping you text your idol,” Holster said, grinning and pushing his glasses back into place. “Asshole.”

Tater: Is okay you ran. I have affect like that on people ))))))

“Is that…is he?” That was definitely flirting, right? Ransom couldn’t be sure… He turned the phone to show Holster.

“Dude.” Holster said, sitting up. “That’s gay.”

Ransom sat criss-cross on the floor, phone in his lap. He was just about to reply when the phone buzzed again and Holster hovered behind his back looking at the response.

Tater: Next time will give you autograph

“God he’s cocky,” Holster grumbled, and Ransom nudged his stomach.

“He can afford to be cocky with an ass like that.”

Ransom: Haha that’d be cool actually.

“That’d be cool actually,” Holster mimicked. Ransom glared. Why was he being like this?

“You know I suck at this stuff, man, stop,” Ransom told him. Ever since he broke up with March he’d been trying to get back in the game, and it wasn’t like Alexei Mashkov was queer or even trying to hook up with him, but it was the principle of the thing.

Tater: You are good player too. I watch games with Zimmboni.

“He thinks I’m a good player,” Ransom whispered. Holy shit.

Ransom: Thanks man. Just sucks we didn’t make it farther in the playoffs.

Tater: Some win, some lose )))

“Why is he even texting you, though?” Holster muttered, standing back up.

Ransom looked up, shocked. “Dude. What’s your problem?”

“Don’t have one. I’m just wondering. It’s kinda weird, okay?”

And it was weird, but he was literally texting his celebrity crush and his best bro could be a little happier for him?

“Yeah I mean I don’t get it, but shit man.”

“Yeah, shit.”

This was…awkward. He watched Holster carefully. He was…tense. After all these years playing together, living together, Ransom knew when something was up.

He opened his mouth to ask when Holster turned around abruptly, looking down at him.

“This is your Birthday Keagster, Rans, let’s go down, alright?”

“Yeah, alright.” Holster held a hand out to help him up and his hand lingered before he ran it back through his hair. So weird.

“And eat something! I will take care of your drunk ass if I have to, but I won’t clean up any of your puke even if it is your birthday,” Holster said, grinning. Back to normal.

Ransom laughed. “I’m the one who took care of your drunk ass when you stripped on the pong table last week, but okay.”

“Fuck off,” Holster said, nudging him in the arm.

Back to normal. Ransom grinned and opened the attic door. “It’s my birthday I’ll get shitfaced if I  want to.”

His phone buzzed again with another text from Alexei and he felt Holster physically stiffen at his side.

What the fuck.

He decided to ignore the text for now. He only had a little while longer to enjoy college with his best bud, and even if they were moving in together, everything was about to change.

miraculance  asked:

Hey, happy birthday! :) How about a drabble based on that prompt that went around once, about lance's feelings being enhanced by some space flower and he spends a day or two mooning over keith with keith thinking it's just a temporary thing? I hope you had a great day!

i’ve never seen this prompt so it might not be exactly right but here you go! 

“He’s gonna be fine,” Pidge reassures Keith for the hundredth time, but Keith isn’t sure he believes her. “Stop asking if you’re not gonna believe me,” she adds, which makes him squint suspiciously at her. “I’m not reading your mind, you’re just obvious. So is the reason you’re asking me about this over and over.” 

“I’m just – Lance is a paladin, we need him to be functional to be a team,” Keith says, crossing his arms. He glances across the room where Coran is talking to Lance, still surprised when he meets Lance’s eyes despite the fact that Lance has been staring at him since they got back to the castle. Lance doesn’t blink, doesn’t even look embarrassed to be caught staring – he just grins brightly at Keith and waves a little. Keith flushes hot and then glares at Pidge when she laughs. “He’s not okay, Pidge, look at him.” 

“Looks normal to me,” Pidge mutters. Keith shoots her a look and she sighs. “It was just some weird space plant that messed with his neurotransmitters. It’s not dangerous, it’ll work through his system in a day or so. Coran isn’t worried, you shouldn’t be either.” 

But Keith does worry, especially when Lance sits close to him in the common area later and says, “Hey.” His voice is low, and it strokes down Keith’s spine like a fingertip. He shivers a little, but looks up at Lance despite himself. 

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” Lance says dismissively. “I wanted to spend time with you.” He ducks his head and peers at Keith. “You know, you’ve got really pretty eyes.” 

“I – what?” Keith stammers, feeling his face heat up.

“You’re really cute,” Lance says, smiling. It’s not a smirk, not the way it usually is when Lance flirts with people. He looks like he’s saying something as if it were a well-known fact, a given. “You worrying about me is especially cute.” 

“I–” Keith says, at a loss for words. “I – this is just that plant thing talking–” 

“Plant thing? I was talking about you, Keith,” Lance says, brow furrowing. “Are you feeling okay?” He scoots closer and puts a hand against Keith’s forehead. Keith can feel his ears burning. “You’re warm,” Lance murmurs. 

“I’ve got to – I have to go now,” Keith says loudly. He stands up, and ignores the vaguely hurt pout Lance sends his way, and barricades himself in his room for the rest of the night. You have pretty eyes echoes over and over in his head throughout the rest of the night.

The next morning, Lance doesn’t show up to breakfast. After a while, Hunk begs for Keith to take him something to eat in case he started feeling ill. When Keith protests, saying someone else should go, Pidge says, “You were the one worrying about him.” 

So Keith knocks on Lance’s door with a bowl of good in one hand, and it stays closed for a disconcertingly long time, until eventually it whooshes open. Lance takes one look at him and turns scarlet. 

“Oh god,” he says, sounding terrified. 

“Um,” Keith says, because this is the exact opposite reaction he was expecting. 

“Oh my god,” Lance repeats. He covers his face with his hands and sighs. “Of course. Okay, yeah, might as well.” He takes the bowl of goo from Keith and sets it on a table near the door. He faces Keith again and looks him dead in the eye. “I’m sorry about last night.” 

Keith’s stomach sinks, any lingering hope that maybe it hadn’t been the plant dissipating immediately. “Right,” he says quietly. “Of course.” 

“It was really inappropriate,” Lance continues, looking pained. “We’re – you and I are partners, and friends, and that stupid plant just made me say things that I’ve been – I didn’t want you to find out like that, and I’m sorry–”

“Wait,” Keith says, frowning. “Find out – what do you mean?”

“That plant thing made me say whatever was on my mind,” Lance says. “Like, not a truth serum thing but just – my inhibitions were lowered. Didn’t – didn’t Pidge explain it to you?” 

“No,” Keith says, but he really had been paying more attention to Lance than Pidge, to be fair. 

“Oh my god,” Lance groans, running a hand through his hair. “I could have just – you didn’t know. But now you know. God, I look like such an idiot–” 

He looks so miserable that Keith can’t help but reach out, touching his arm gently. Lance goes completely still and looks at him, wide-eyed. “Uh,” Keith says, heart beating out of his chest. “It’s, um, cute. You – worrying. About me.” It’s not nearly as smooth as Lance had been, but Keith doesn’t have the advantage of being loose-lipped because of some weird space plant. 

Lance gapes at him, but only for a moment – after a second of comprehension, a smile starts at the corners of his mouth and curls in. He’s still flushed, but he looks more like the Lance Keith is used to. “Well,” Lance says, leaning against his door. “What else do I look cute doing?” 

“Ugh,” Keith says, but he’s grinning too.