#[looking into the camera like i'm on the office] do you see why i hate it here

[sergeifyodorov]

your class of 2015 post has genuinely changed the way i think about hockey and the NHL (and the media and team managers and players — it’s just changed me, okay??) and i’m SO in awe. brilliant job honestly.

thank you o7777,,, i think tho if i were to go back to it i would talk. more about how auston is Not The Villain (there is/was absolutely a bit of a fake "16 and 34 hate each other" thing, possibly to stir up actual drama between them and possibly so their agents could duke it out for bigger contracts. They have been close friends from the beginning.) and also about SLICK WILLY who was dogpiled on just as much as/maybe even more than mitchy (there was some serious xenophobia going on against him! also racism against auston that contributed to the Manly Man image) but who has the good fortune to just be completely fucking oblivious to all of that.

[pers1st]

i can't handle change - leah williamson x reader

part two of let down

pairing: leah williamson x barça!reader

warnings: bit angsty

You had expected your first day, merely a day after arriving in the city, to be full of football. Barcelona did media duties occasionally, for sure. But you had expected to throw yourself into training immediately here, mostly in an attempt to conceal your emotions and at least act as though you wanted to give everything for this club. In truth, you wanted to give everything for yourself. You wanted to keep yourself a candidate for the national team, you wanted to keep yourself a candidate for Barcelona once they were ready to sign you back, you wanted to play, partially, out of spite as well. Anger was one of the emotions in your mess of a mind, and although you knew that it was no use, you wanted to show Jona the mistake he had made.

What you hadn't expected was the absolutely overwhelming amount of cameras, catching every inch of you they could. London Colney, otherwise known as the Arsenal training centre, was nice, but it was different from what you were used. The corridors were small and you feared they'd squish you if you stared at the white walls for a second too long. The friendly woman from the entrance, who's name you had missed due to her heavily accented English, had led you all the way to Jonas' office on the first floor, and the man was gauging at you with a grin you couldn't quite place. You shifted uncomfortably.

"So, let's put pen to paper!", he clapped his hands as he gently motioned to the seat next to him after having shaken your sweaty hand.

"Yes", you croaked as you sat down, taking the pen with the Arsenal logo into your shaky grip. The smile on your lips was fake as ever as you scribbled your name onto the dotted line. You fooled them again when holding up your shirt for the cameras. And again as you sat in front of the social media's team, answering all of their questions.

Your move surprised everyone in the Women's Football Community, can you tell us what exactly made you choose Arsenal?

Of course. I think Arsenal are very good with the fans, and they play really good football. I'm really excited to maybe play at the Emirates, and yeah I think anyone can see they are a real family so that's why I'm happy to be a part of it.

They payed the most. That was the answer you would've given, had anyone actually wanted to hear the truth from you. But people didn't want the truth. People wanted you to love Arsenal. And although it pained you, you had to admit that so far, it wasn't that bad.

Leah gave you a tour of her home that was now yours too, and the training grounds were nice. The gym was nice. The changing room was nice. The cafeteria was nice. You couldn't hate the club as much as you had when you hadn't seen it yet - hadn't been a part of it.

"So, do you like it here?"

You thought for a second that you would choke on your food when Wally asked you this, completely blindsiding you as you sat with her, Leah, Laia and Teyah in the dining hall, letting most of their conversation slip past you. Their English was difficult for you, not because you hadn't learned (or, attempted to learn) them language, but because you'd never heard it as much as you did here. The words were starting to become a constant, distant noise somewhere in the back of your mind, but as Wally looked at you expectantly and the others turned towards you, you knew that this wasn't something you could escape.

"Yeah, sure", you smiled. "It's nice here."

"Your contract is two years, right?"

You nodded. "Sí."

Two years. Two long years of being away from Alexia, except for Spanish camps. Two long years of being away from your parents, your actual teammates, your actual home. The thought didn't scare you as much as it used to.

"So, two years and then you'll go back?", Leah nudged you playfully, sipping her water as she smirked.

You shrugged. "We should see."

Over the next few days, you got to know the team, and London, even better. Leah spent every minute she could with you, always partnering with you during training and offering to show you her favorite cafés and places in the city when you weren't kicking balls around, inviting you over to her flat for a movie night or taking you to the little Spanish market she'd found halfway across the city. You appreciated her company, knowing that she was trying to make this transition as comfortable for you as possible. She didn't succeed completely, as you still felt homesick whenever she spared you a minute to call Alexia, or when you checked Barça's social media to see all of your teammates together, seemingly not even missing you.

Logically, you knew that they did. Barça was a family, and Alexia told you everyday that the girls were asking about you. Many of them texted you as well, informing you that they would try and find a livestream of your cup game against Reading, in which you would likely make your debut for your new club. Still, seeing them without you felt like someone was shooting daggers through your chest, piercing the skin and leaving you to bleed. You wanted to be there. You should be there. They had taken that opportunity away from you, ripping it out of your hands and tearing it apart like a piece of paper.

Anger and longing rose within you interchangeably, and if you didn't know any better, you would've believed you were simply going through a breakup like any other. But you forced yourself to push through the first week as hard as you could, keeping conversations with Alexia short in order to not be pulled back into memories and instead attempt to enjoy the present.

You were glad when Laia told you about her birthday party just a few days before your first match. The team had planned to go to Laia's favorite Spanish restaurant, and as you were a part of the team now as well, Kim had extended the reservation for another person. That was how you had found yourself, dressed in a tight black dress with a pullover on top, in Leah's car, allowing yourself to accept her offer to share a ride, trying to ignore the ringing phone in your hands.

Your ringtone cut off the soft country music playing in the background, which you had told Leah many times you would not enjoy. When the ringing finally stopped, you breathed a sigh of relief. Just for it to start again mere seconds later.

"Maybe you should answer that", Leah huffed, her eyes focused on the road but a soft smile on her lips. You shrugged.

"It's Alexia."

"You're ignoring the Alexia Putellas?" Leah's expression turned into a shocked one at once, but you could only chuckle.

"You're feeding her ego. She's just- my best friend, you know?", you attempted to explain how Ale's success had never driven a wedge between the two of you, not only because many believed you were equally good at football, but because Alexia was likely the most down-to-earth person you knew. Of course, the woman knew how good she was. Everyone did. But she'd never let it change her.

"Isn't that just more of a reason to not ignore her?"

You shrugged again.

"I dunno. Don't want to talk to her."

Leah's eyebrows furrowed as you finally reached your destination and she put the car into park. Your phone began ringing again. This time, you declined her call, texting her quickly that you couldn't talk right now.

"Why?"

You shrugged again. It seemed like all you knew to do, but as you looked at the way Leah's expression didn't relent in the slightest, you knew that it wouldn't work anymore. Maybe it was good to talk to Leah. Maybe she would understand.

"It just reminds me of home, you know. I miss it", you croaked, suddenly overwhelmed with longing once more. You wanted nothing more than to be in your apartment again, to drive to the Barcelona training grounds in your blue and red shirt, to join Mapi's banter, you even missed being yelled at by Irene and Marta.

"Are we really that bad?", Leah attempted to joke, a hand of hers flying out to gently land on your knee. Your breath hitched at the sudden contact, your eyes leaving hers to stare at her fingers on your skin.

“No”, you huffed. “Not at all, that’s the problem.”

Sitting in the car with Leah, nothing but the annoying country music in the background, for a second felt like a breath of fresh air. For just a second, you could focus on the warmth of her skin, on the air refresher dangling from her rearview mirror, on the eyes that she lay on you gently, on the softness of it all.

“Should we go?”, you broke the silence, knowing that Laia would not be happy if you were late. It was past ten already, and you softly smiled at the knowledge that some Spanish habits never truly left. It felt comforting to eat this late, as stupid as it sounded. It reminded you of the countless team dinners you’d had with Barça. You didn’t allow yourself, once again, to dwell on the fond memories as you pushed your door open without awaiting Leah’s answer, her hand retrieving from its position as she followed you into the restaurant, a bottle of Spanish wine in your hands. You had brought as much as you had been allowed to bring, and you figured passing Laia one singular bottle couldn’t hurt too much.

The restaurant held a nice atmosphere, one that immediately pulled you in as the bell jingled above your head. Most of the girls were already sitting at the table reserved for you, who all turned as they waved at you happily, grins plastered on their faces. Laia caught your eye first - she was wearing a little plastic crown, grinning like a kid on Christmas as she rose from her seat, hurrying to welcome you and Leah, who seemed to be the last ones to have arrived.

"¡Feliç aniversari!", you hugged Laia shortly, rubbing your hand across her back before pushing the bottle into her hands.

"Merci", she smiled as she accepted it, taking Leah into a short hug as well before you made your way towards the only seats available. The warmth of Leah's body next to yours, the familiar food and music playing softly in the background almost made you forget about the guilt in your stomach. You weren't supposed to enjoy all of this half as much as you did.

Seemingly as a distraction, though you figured you subconsciously wanted to remind yourself of what was your actual home, you opened Instagram. A video of Aitana singing the Barça chant, laughing into the camera with golden confetti around her shoulders, made you halt. You scrolled. You saw the trophy.

Shit - that was what Alexia had been calling you about. Of course. It came back to you flying - the supercopa final was today. How could you have forgotten? It was all you had been looking forward to ever since the winter break had ended. Yet you were so far away from it all, the match had slipped between your fingers, and you were left with nothing but the reminder that Barcelona functioned just as well without you, that they had simply moved on, while you were stuck here - in a Spanish restaurant, with your "friends", trying to remind yourself that if you tried hard enough, this could feel like home.

With a screech, you pushed your chair back and wobbled out of your seat uncomfortably.

"Just need the bathroom", you excused yourself in response to Leah's surprised expression, before marching through the restaurant and leaving all of the girls behind.

The bathroom was empty, luckily, and you let the tears flow at once. How had you been so stupid? How had you thought that, even for a minute, you would be okay so far away from your home, watching your teammates do all the things you wanted to do with them, while seemingly not missing you at all?

It didn't make any sense to you- Barcelona could win every trophy they wanted, while you were stuck in London, not even sure whether they would want you back after your contract was over. Were you delusional? Were you ever going to return to Barcelona?

Just as your brain started spinning further, and you had to steady yourself on the sink, knuckles turning white from how hard you wanted to keep yourself grounded, the door to the bathroom swung open. You didn't need to look up to know who it was - her body was right behind you, and she smelled of vanilla, just like her car did.

Leah. It was Leah who had entered the bathroom. Leah who was frantically trying to get you to talk to her, all the while you were choking on your sobs. Leah, who had tried her best to make you somewhat comfortable in the club she loved so much. How were you supposed to look her in the eye?

[theocddiaries]

Alfred: I don't understand. What are we watching? Bruce [Pointing at a camera footage on the TV]: Okay, look. I fell yesterday at the market. Dick and I have been having a little disagreement as to what happened. Just watch. I stop to fix my shoe, and then Dick… Right there. He makes way for this very attractive woman, whom he conveniently leaves out of his retelling of the story. Now, right here, Dick backs up, pushes his butt into the cart, pushes me into the cans. Do you see that? It's all his fault! Just like I said! I was right! Suck it! Cass: When did you get this? Jason: Oh, my God. That's why you wanted to come separately. Steph: You went to all that trouble just to prove you were right? Bruce: It really wasn't that much trouble. I went to the store, found your friend Jordan, the bag boy, who got me the manager. He gave me the address of the off-site security office. I filled out some paperwork. Sally faxed it to corporate. Three minutes later, I'm buying a pack of DVDs and burning a copy. Piece of cake. Tim: …It's like a sickness. Bruce: What? None of you believed me, so I got proof. You should all be sucking it right now. Kate: Please stop with the "sucking it," Bruce. They're children. Clark: Yes, children are very impressionable. You'll never know what they'll pick up. Lois: Ugh! Okay, Clark, I'm sorry that I blamed it all on you, okay? But we both need to look at our actions. I mean, if we're thinking about adopting another baby, then we need to-- Diana: You're adopting another kid? Clark: That's not the way you make an announcement! Banners! Banners! [Puts on music] 🎶Ah, let's give the boy a hand 🎶 Jason: What the hell's happening here? Dick: Is that from Footloose??? Clark [Turns off the music]: Really, Lois? You couldn't even share telling our friends. Kate: Why are you upset? This is such good news. Lois: No, we're a little on edge because Conner has been acting out, like he doesn't want a sibling-- Clark: Yeah, because Lois taught him to hate sharing. Lois: And, or, because Clark wears him like a fanny pack. Alfred: Oh, stop blaming each other. No kid wants a sibling. I remember Bruce hated his cousin so much, he stuck her in a dryer when she was two. Kate: You put me in the dryer? Bruce: …I did. But it wasn't 'cause I hated you. My friend Thomas said that it wouldn't run with a kid inside it, and I knew it would. I was right. Dick: Good governor. It's been going on since you were five? Bruce: …Oh, my God, it is a sickness. What would make me have that need at such a young age? Kate: How long was I in that dryer? Because- I-Is this why I'm afraid of tumbling? I had to quit gymnastics! Dick: A childhood without tumbling?! [Faces Alfred]. You knew this, and just stood by and did nothing? Alfred: Okay, okay. What's done is done. All you can do is learn from your mistakes. And in that spirit, I would like to propose a toast to our young master Damian. This week, he did something he wasn't supposed to do, like we all do-- Diana [Interrupting]: Like we all do!. Cheers, my young warrior! Alfred: No. Not yet. Master Damian stood up like a man. He admitted he was wrong, and he took his licks. And I'm very, very proud of him. Diana: Aaaand now we clink. Alfred: No, we clink when I say we clink. So Master Damian made a mistake, but he didn't take the easy way out. He's got guts. He's got integrity. And as far as I'm concerned, he's the best-- Damian: Okay, stop, stop! I didn't do any of that! Miss Diana broke into the locker and threw the necklace inside, and then we ran away like cowards! I'm sorry, Alfred! I'm sorry! Alfred: Aha! I knew it. I was right! I was right! Everyone: … … [In realization]: Ohhhh. Makes sense. Alfred: … [Drinks in silence].

[merrybloomwrites]

Safe and Sound

Summary: Being an online personality on a well known Youtube channel comes with it's fair amount of attention. But when one fan starts to get too close for comfort, Spencer is there to keep you safe.

Word Count: 2.6K

CW: stalker, getting drugged

AN: Another story for Whumptober! This has been in my mind for awhile so I'm happy to share this protective Spencer story with you all! It's a bit of a heavier story again so please make sure to note the content warning and please don't read if those topics make you uncomfortable or trigger you in any way.

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You always knew that there are people on the internet that are creeps. Or are just plain weird. Getting a job as a cast member as Smosh only confirmed that fact. 

It doesn’t happen every time you're in a video, but you’ll occasionally see some odd comments about you. People who hate you, people who love you a bit too much, people who notice the tiniest, most random things about you. It’s a bit off-putting, but not enough to really concern you. They’re just randos on the internet you will never interact with in real life. 

But then you start to get this weird feeling whenever you leave your apartment. You figure you’re just being paranoid, but still, it’s uncomfortable. Almost as though you’re being watched. 

It’s disconcerting, but temporary, and by the time you arrive at work, or the grocery store, or the local bar to hang with friends, you’ve forgotten all about it. 

And then the letters start. Letters sent to your apartment with no return address. They’re typed, even your address isn’t handwritten but rather stamped on. 

As though the anonymity wasn’t bad enough, the content of the letters had your anxiety spiking. The person was clearly unwell, and obsessed with you. Sentences like, “I need to have you,” and “you will be mine” are all too common in their writing. 

You bring the letters to the police and explain what your job is to give context of how this stalker probably found you. They say they’ll look into it, but there’s not much they can do. 

Disheartened, you try to protect yourself as much as you can. You get extra locks for your doors and windows, as well as install cameras to catch anyone who may get close to your home. It’s not much, but at least you can feel a bit safer when you’re at your apartment.

You tell Ian and Anthony as well as a couple other higher ups at Smosh to make them aware of the situation. They ask if you want to take a step back from appearing in videos for the time being, but you want to continue on like usual. Whoever this person is, you refuse to let them force you to change things about your life. 

The letters continue, roughly one a week for a few months. You bring all of them to the police, trying to help get to the bottom of this, but you have nothing else to go on. 

Then one day as you leave for work, you have that feeling of being watched once again. You scan the area and notice a person sitting on a bench in the park across the street. Which wouldn’t be weird, except this man seems to be looking directly at you. It could be a coincidence, but something has you feeling like it may be something more sinister. You take out your phone and try to discreetly take a video of this person. 

You debate over sending the video to the police officer you’ve been in contact with, but since the person isn’t doing anything obviously nefarious, it would probably be a waste of everyone’s time. You do show it to Ian when you get to the office. You’re not sure why you share it, maybe you want him to validate you that it’s weird, or maybe you want him to tell you it’s totally normal and everything is fine. 

What you don’t realize is that it isn’t just you and Ian in the kitchen, but that Spencer has overheard the conversation as well. 

“Wait, what’s going on?” he says, walking over to you, a confused look on his face.

“I, uhm, well I kind of seem to have a stalker,” you state.

“Oh my god. Are you okay? Are you safe?” he asks worriedly.

 “Yea. I mean, I think so. Mostly it’s just letters getting mailed to my house. But I’ve been having this weird feeling like I’m being watched. And there was this guy looking at me from the park this morning, but I think that’s just a coincidence.”

“Y/N, that’s-” he stands there at a loss for words. “That sounds dangerous, like bad news waiting to happen.”

“I’ve gone to the police,” you explain. “They have all the information I have. But there’s nothing they can do, at least not yet.”

“You mean not until something bad happens. I hate that.” 

“I’ve done everything I can to protect my home so I feel safe there. If I didn’t then I wouldn’t stay.”

“I’m glad to hear that. But if you ever don’t feel safe, you can come stay with me,” Spencer says.

“Or me,” Ian adds. 

“Thanks guys. I promise that if it gets worse then I’ll take one of you up on that offer.” 

It’s nice to know that they have your back, that you have places you can go if anything were to happen. Because while you try to stay positive, you can’t lie. You’re scared. You’re scared that whoever this person is will do something more serious. And as terrifying as that is, you’re less anxious knowing you have people you can turn to. 

More weeks pass, and the letters continue. You see the same man twice more at the park, taking videos each time. After the third, you do send all of them to the police, since there now seems to be a pattern. The officer you speak with assures you that they’re looking into it, trying to identify the man. She also asks you to call them if he shows up again.

The following Friday a group of your friends decide to hang at a local bar to celebrate the end of a long filming week. You have a drink, dance with some friends, and for a moment, you forget about your problems.

But the feeling of being watched comes back. This time it’s worse than ever, your skin prickling with anxiety. Scanning the room, you notice a man whose eyes are locked on you. He looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t place where you might know him from.

Brushing it off, you go up to the bar to order another drink. It’s a busy night, and the bar is crowded so it takes a few minutes for you to get served. You scan the room, trying to find that guy again but you’ve lost him amongst the sea of people. 

When you look back at the bar your cocktail is waiting for you so you place down your cash, grab your drink, and head back to your friends. You dance with them again, taking sips of your drink and just letting loose.

After a little while you start to feel a bit dizzy and figure that the cocktail must be pretty strong. You slow down, drinking less and trying to take deep breaths to combat the lightheadedness. It doesn’t seem to be helping, and you start to feel a bit nauseous, so you excuse yourself to the bathroom. 

You walk to the hallway on unsteady legs, and miraculously are able to use the restroom. You slowly wash your hands, concentrating deeply on the task. 

On your way back to your friends you get confused, taking a wrong turn and going down the wrong hallway. It’s dark back here, and if you were more coherent you’d realize that customers aren’t supposed to be here, and the only door leads to a storage room. 

Turning around you find that you’re suddenly not alone. A tall man is there smiling at you. It’s not someone you recognize but you have a vague sense that you should know him. He steps closer and you start to feel anxious, not liking the situation you’ve found yourself in. 

“Excuse me,” you try to say, but your mouth feels almost numb, and you’re not sure the words actually came out. 

“I’m glad I found you Y/N,” he says. You stare at him, trying to figure out how you know him. “It’s time to get going, sweetheart.”

He starts to lead you away and you follow, unable to come up with a reason to stay. The music gets louder, lights are flashing in your eyes, and you’re becoming more and more disoriented. 

The next thing you know, a group of your friends are frantically speaking to you, the man nowhere to be found. You desperately try to focus on any one thing, but it’s chaos all around you. Hands cup your face and you flinch before meeting the eyes of the person who placed them there so gently. 

“Spencer?” you ask, needing confirmation that your muddled mind has at least one thing correct.

“Yea, it’s Spencer,” he replies as he moves his hands off of you, relieved that he now has your attention. “Can you tell me what happened?”

You shake your head no.

“Do you know who that man is?” Spencer asks.

Again you just shake your head.

You sway on your feet and Spencer quickly steps in and helps you sit on the floor. You lean your head back against the wall, but you find that makes the dizziness worse, so you rest it on your knees instead. You’re turned to look at Spencer, needing to focus on something safe right now. 

There’s more commotion, and you watch as Spencer speaks with a couple of people in uniform. He places a calming hand on your back and tries asking you more questions, but everything is too murky for you to understand.

You’re so drowsy, and you stop fighting your heavy eyelids, letting them close as the world around you finally goes quiet.

You’re not out for long, waking up a short while later in the ambulance. Spencer is still there, now holding onto your hand. 

At the hospital a lovely doctor checks you over to make sure you’re not injured. She takes blood and gives you some IV hydration. By the time you’re discharged, the world has stopped spinning and you’re able to understand and answer the questions you’re being asked. 

Two of the police officers come to the hospital to speak with you now that you’re more coherent, and you tell them about the man. One of the officers is the woman you’d been in contact with regarding the letters and the stranger at the park and she pulls up the pictures you had taken as well as a still from the security footage from the bar.

Your blood runs cold as you realize that it is absolutely the same person. Just a moment ago you were reeling from the fact that you had been roofied. And now you find out that it wasn’t just some random guy that did it, but instead one who has been stalking you for months. You weren’t drugged on some whim. This had to have been planned, thought out for who knows how long. 

You keep it together until the police officers leave and then you turn to Spencer, eyes wide and filling with tears.

After taking a deep breath you say, “Thank you so much for finding me. I can’t imagine what he would have done if you hadn’t come looking for me.”

“I would never have been able to forgive myself if anything happened to you,” is his reply. 

You can’t think of anything to say in reply, so you choose to lean into his side instead. He wraps an arm around you, and it might be your imagination, but you think you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. 

“C’mon. The guys dropped my car off, let’s get you home,” Spencer says. 

“No!” You quickly shout. “He knows where I live. He’ll find me there.”

“Y/N, they have him down at the police station. But I actually didn’t mean your home. I meant mine, if you’re alright with that.”

“Oh. Yes, please, I’m good with that.”

Spencer keeps his arm around your waist as he leads you out of the hospital and to his car in the nearby lot. He opens the passenger door and pulls out a sweatshirt. He helps you pull it over your head before you sit in the seat. You struggle a moment with the seatbelt, and he leans in to click it for you. It’s embarrassing, him having to do all of this because you’re still so shaky, but he doesn’t see it that way. 

He talks the whole way to his place, and you’re grateful for the random stories that fill the silence. It keeps your mind from slipping into the dark fearful thoughts that keep trying to pop up.

Once at his apartment he asks if you want to take a shower or get some sleep. 

“Shower first, if that’s okay?” you answer.

“Of course it’s okay. Whatever you need,” he replies. “I’ll get some breakfast ready as well. Anything particular you want?”

Your stomach is still unsettled so you ask if it’s possible to just have toast.

“I think I can handle toast,” he says with a smile, causing you to giggle. “I’ll make you a smoothie too, how does that sound?”

“Perfect.” 

Spencer leads you to the bathroom where he starts the shower and shows you how to change the temperature of the water. He steps out for a moment and comes back with a stack of clean clothes for you to wear.

“I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything,” he says before he leaves the room.

You shower as quickly as you can, wanting to get back to Spencer. Being alone is the last thing you want right now, but you also need to wash last night off of you so you can feel clean.

It feels amazing to slip into Spencer’s cozy sweats, his old, worn t-shirt, and soft hoodie. 

He’s in the kitchen and you watch as he butters toast and pours the smoothie into two cups. Breakfast is quiet as you focus on eating slowly so as to not upset your stomach. You finish as much as you can before the exhaustion really sets in. 

“C’mon, you need to sleep,” he says. The polite part of you wants to help clear the dishes as a thank you, but he’s right. You can barely stay upright on the way to his room. He closes the blinds and tucks you in, and you fall asleep almost immediately. 

You’re not sure how long you sleep before a nightmare has you jolting awake, screaming. 

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asks as he runs into the room. 

He sits on the bed beside you and you try to explain the dream you’d just had in which Spencer hadn’t saved the day and you’d ended up with that man. But as you go to speak nothing comes out except a shattered sob. 

Without hesitation he pulls you to him and holds you close. He gently rocks you as he tells you, “You’re safe, you got away, he can’t get you,” over and over until the message sinks in. 

You don’t say anything, but slowly your tears fade away and your eyes start to feel heavy once again. You want to lay back down and rest some more, but you don’t want Spencer to leave again.

“Stay. Please.” 

It’s all you get out before you fall back to sleep. 

You wake up hours later with Spencer still holding you, and for the first time in months, you know that you’re safe, and that everything is going to be okay.

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AN: Thank you for reading! I only have one or two more Spencer story ideas so lmk if you have any requests!

[moni-logues]

Hiiiii Moniiiiii!!!! :) How are you?

I say a few request the other day and i would like to ask for one if its ok so may I please request a JiminxReader where they are co-workers, maybe a frienemies to lovers? and could you please highlight the fact reader has a mole somewhere special (shoulder, tigh, upper lip idk) that Jimin takes liking and loves kissing? thank youuuu xx

LOOK AT ME!!!! I'm FILLING A REQUEST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I DID SOME WRITING!!! LOOK, MA, NO HANDS!

Pairing: Jimin x reader (afab)

Genre: co-workers to lovers, slight enemies to friends to lovers

Summary: You were certain, when Jimin started at your company, that you were going to hate him. You had been wrong. Equally sure you were now that you were just friends. Just friends...

Word count: 5.1k

Content: oral (f. receiving), protected sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, one very bad stupid joke because i couldn't not, they're both drunk/sobering up; pretend this is actually set somewhere and that place is probably in the UK (hence Jimin Park not Park Jimin)

This Meeting Should've Been an Email

JP: this meeting should’ve been an email 

YN: it should have been an email between the two of them 

YN: i don’t even know what we’re doing here 

JP: i'm online shopping 

YN: 😂 

YN: maybe i'll do the same 

YN: spend all the money they don’t pay me 

JP: atta girl! 

You were trying to keep your face neutral, pretending you were listening to the discussion at hand, paying attention so that, if they directed a question to you, you’d be able to answer. Working from home was preferable to working in the office in a thousand different ways, but you did hate sitting on camera in a meeting that didn’t require you. Acting had never been your strong suit. You bit your lip, then rolled both into your mouth to stop yourself smiling.  

JP: what do you think of this? 

Jimin sent a link to a shirt so expensive, your mouth gaped without permission. Black and sheer, blousy with fewer buttons than sleeves. It was certainly something, but you weren’t sure it qualified as clothing—not for that price. 

“Oh, I’ve just seen your face—is there something wrong?” your manager asked and you started. 

“No, not at all! Sorry!” 

You had no lie or excuse to give, so you hoped he wouldn’t probe. He didn’t. 

YN: why would you spend so much money on so little fabric? 

JP: it’s fucking beautiful, that’s why 

YN: more beautiful than rent? 

YN: or food? 

JP: yes 

* 

You drummed your fingers on the desk, willing yourself to do some work, to at least look like you were doing some work. 

You had got into the office early, as you liked to do, so had secured your favoured desk, in the back corner, where you could surf the internet (decidedly not working) as much as you liked without anyone able to see your screen.  

You had all the right programs open: databases, emails, teams, spreadsheets, and checklists. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do anything with them.  

Jimin had told you, first thing this morning, that he wasn’t going to come in today. You didn’t see the point of being there without him. Who would you go on unnecessary walks with, just to get out of working for ten minutes? Who would convince you that walking the further distance to the good coffee shop was definitely worth it, as were the pastries they sold that the closer one didn’t? Who would distract you for 75% of the day, if not Jimin? 

No one.  

You told yourself to do one task and then you could have a break. You turned back to your monitors and scanned your to-do list. You needed something quick and easy. Then an email came through from your manager. The subject alone made your stomach drop: Team changes!! The second exclamation mark wasn’t right at all. 

“Hi all, 

I’ve got some good news and bad news. 

Bad news: Jimin is leaving us! 

Good news: he’s got a great new position as a manager just down the road! 

We’ll have to have some discussions around resourcing in Ops and I’ll of course feed that back to you and we’ll arrange how we’ll cover Jimin’s tasks in the interim. I know he’ll have a lot to train you guys on before his last day, but we’re such a great team, I know we’ll manage! It’ll be a great loss, for sure, and we’ll all be sad to see him go, but I hope you can be happy for him, too.  

See you in the meeting at 2. 

Hugh” 

Anger simmered in your gut before you could be sad. The passive aggression of ‘I know he’ll have a lot to train you guys on’ and the fact that Jimin hadn’t told you. That you knew it would be months before anyone was hired in Jimin’s place and that you would be expected to pick up all the slack, for no credit and no extra pay. That he hadn’t told you. 

YN: you’re LEAVING?!?!?!!???!!?!?!?! 

JP: yep!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

YN: cannot believe you made me find out from HUGH 

JP: 😇😇😇 

YN: you’re not allowed to leave me here 

JP: you should quit too!!!! 

You left that one on read and decided to knuckle down to work. You had a lot to do, you decided, and it couldn’t be put off any longer. 

You felt weirder than you had expected to. Unsettled for the rest of the day. Not really able to focus, but your mind wasn’t busy—there was nothing in it. You couldn’t fill it with numbers or comms or monitoring. Couldn’t fill it with office gossip (there wasn’t any). You took yourself on a walk, for fresh air, hoping the breeze would blow away the cobwebs, but that didn’t work either.  

* * * 

“Hi, Jimin!” Chloe called from across the office when Jimin entered, only in his second week of work. 

“Hi!” he called back, walking away from your bank of desks and towards the ones at the other end of the room. 

You rolled your eyes. Pretty boys were the popular ones. Go figure. You had known he would ingratiate himself with that little group the moment you had met: there was something almost simpering about the way he behaved when introduced around the office. As if it was some sort of one-man parade in which he was the star. Arrogant, you decided. Arrogant with no reason to be. 

He had a dance background (even less relevant than your history degree) so it wasn’t as if he had any experience in this field. It was his first office job since graduating; he had graduated at the same time as you and had spent a year working in retail before landing this job. So he didn’t even necessarily have technical or communication skills. He just had a pretty face. And a dancer’s body. 

You couldn’t work out how he became everybody’s best friend within five minutes. Even less when you started hearing people calling across the office for him to help with this problem and that.  

“Jimin, can you show me how to do a purchase order again?” 

“Jimin, what supplier did you use for your banner?” 

“Jimin-” 

“Jimin-” 

“Jimin!” 

You knew you knew just as much as he did, if not more. You’d been here longer. You just weren’t as... all that. Didn’t have the sparkle or the smirk. Fine, you weren’t glamorous but this job wasn’t supposed to be about style. You got the work done and you did it without fanfare because you weren’t desperate for attention and praise. 

Unlike some people.  

* 

“Guess who got the promotion,” you said on the phone to your best friend. 

“Oh my god, is it you?! Did you get it?!?!?!?!!?” 

“Nope.” 

You ended the word with a hard pop and said no more. Wendy was quiet on the other end for a second. 

“You didn’t?” 

“Nope.” 

“Then who did?” 

“I’ll give you one fucking guess.” 

“Not Jimin.” 

“Of course it was Jimin!” 

You had been all but assured the next open spot that came up. It was virtually guaranteed! Until Jimin swanned in and swiped it from within your claws. 

“No fucking way.” 

“Way.” 

* 

You got the promotion after that but it wasn’t a sweet victory. Forever, you would have to live with the fact that Jimin was promoted ahead of you. Even though he had less experience and had worked there less time. Even though all the managers encouraged you to apply. It left a permanently bitter taste in your mouth.  

Then they had a shuffle of staff.  

And you ended up on a project team with him. 

* 

JP: I’ve finished all the documents for this submission; please let me know what you think! 

You’d have liked to tell him to go fuck himself. You’d have liked to open those documents and tear them to shreds, cover them in red tracked changes, and make him look like a fucking moron. 

But you couldn’t do that because they were good. Perfect, in fact. You wouldn’t have changed a thing.  

YN: look good to me. 

You always gave him a passive-aggressive full-stop. You couldn’t be out and out rude to him, both because it was unprofessional but also because he didn’t deserve it. He was good at this job, it turned out. Didn’t have a head for data, but didn’t need one because his talents elsewhere were just as valuable.  

You had begrudgingly traded some tasks with him when your team was first set-up (you gave him the worst ones, the ones you liked the least because you might have been forced to share but they hadn’t specified what) and you were too proud to admit that he was actually better at them. He had a much better eye for visuals; his external comms samples were always flashier and prettier and neater and more engaging than yours had been.  

He had suggested a slightly different tracking method for your monitoring and you had had to pretend to have wifi troubles and leave the meeting to seethe for a minute. 

He brought in snacks to the office when you had meetings scheduled and had the gall to remember that you didn’t really like chocolate. 

He covered for you when you were ill without complaint and without any mistakes. 

He started sitting next to you in the office so that you could talk about the project more easily.  

He started sending you gifs and memes.  

He started making cute, little jokes over private message when you were in meetings together.  

You started, somehow, somewhen, you didn’t know why, growing fond of Jimin Park. 

* 

And now look where you were.  

You were hurt that he didn’t tell you first. You were surprised. You were more than just work friends now, weren’t you? You had each other’s personal numbers! You spent time together outside of work (sometimes)! Didn’t that deserve a little confidence? He couldn’t have even mentioned that he was looking for work elsewhere?  

* 

“I haven’t forgiven you, you know,” you told him as he arrived at the office, taking the desk next to yours as he now always did.  

“For what?” 

“For leaving! And for not telling me!” 

He laughed and, ordinarily, you’d have laughed at yourself along with him, but you didn’t feel like it today. You didn’t want to be laughed at. You wanted him to take your feelings seriously. You wanted him to apologise. You wanted him to not leave.  

* 

You spoke about it reasonably often, his leaving, his new job. How excited he was. How nervous. How weird it would be to not see each other every day.  

You didn’t speak about how sad you really were that he was going. You didn’t speak about the sting of betrayal you still felt but didn’t want to investigate. You didn’t speak about how his quitting really, truly made you want to quit, too, even though you liked this job, even though you were (had been) happy there.  

* * * 

It came around all too quickly. Jimin’s last day. The office was packed because everyone wanted to see him off. Of course they did. Everyone loved Jimin.  

Including you.  

* 

“For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good feeeeelloowwwwwwww! Which nobody can deny!” 

No one had expected the unit director to be the life of the party and it was providing an excellent diversion from the sinking pit in your stomach. With every drink, the end drew nearer.  

It wasn’t as if you wouldn’t see Jimin ever again, but you wouldn’t see him as often. He would make new work friends. You would be replaced. There felt something so final about it all, this evening stretching as long and taut as you could make it.  

So taut it might snap. 

* 

You were the last two in the pub. You used to sneak out early together after work drinks; head back to your place or his and eat chips in front of something you both talked over; took yourself to your exclusive club-house for two where you could gossip about the evening and who got too drunk and who was making eyes at whom.  

But you didn’t want to leave tonight and Jimin was hosting so he couldn’t leave until the last guest did. 

Or until the pub kicked you out after last call. 

A bell rang. 

“Last call!” 

Fuck.  

“Think that’s time, baby!” Jimin cried, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “My last day at work is officially over!” 

You whined, too drunk to stop yourself. You knew you’d had one too many. Two too many. Perhaps the whole bottle of wine too many. But you had to keep drinking if you were staying at the pub, and you wanted to keep drinking so you’d stop feeling so weird and sad about this. You looked up at Jimin and he smiled back down at you.  

God, he was pretty.  

“Don’t go,” you said, lips pouting so hard they barely let the words out.  

Jimin laughed again.  

“Back to my place, then? Your favourite chippy is on the way!” 

“Absolutely!” 

The relief that washed over you was almost strong enough to knock you over. There was still a little more time.  

* 

You squabbled at the chip shop. You could hardly remember why even as you were stepping out of it. It had turned the night just a touch sour. You didn’t want that. But you’d take that over the ending of it.  

* 

“What do you want to watch?” Jimin asked as you flopped, heavily onto his sofa, box of chips in hand. 

You shrugged. 

“Any genre you particularly fancy?” 

“I literally don’t care,” you replied sharply. 

You felt more than saw the look on Jimin’s face and chose to ignore it. He came to sit next to you on the sofa and you felt a little suffocated. He was too close. You could smell him. His shampoo? His laundry detergent? You’d never quite been able to pin down just exactly what it was that made him smell so nice; the opportunities you’d had to get that close to him just hadn’t been enough.  

“Why do you smell so good?” you asked, though it sounded like an accusation.  

Jimin laughed. 

“I smell like a brewery and fryer oil!” 

“No, you don’t! You always smell good!” 

You were starting to hear it, how drunk you sounded, which, on the plus side, meant you were just starting to sober up.  

“Thank you,” he replied, a little more tight-lipped than he might normally have been.  

The conversation, if you could call it that, ended there. You watched the drama he had put on in silence, munching chips, and sipping water, and not talking. You were drunk and tired and had already said too many things you hadn’t meant to. You didn’t know about Jimin.  

You watched one episode and then another and then another and just as Jimin’s TV was asking if you were still even there, Jimin turned it off. 

“I’m calling it,” he said with a wide yawn. “I’m fucking tired.” 

That was your cue to leave. You were also tired. Heavy with alcohol and lack of sleep. Blood viscous like molasses. You didn’t want to go. 

“I don’t want to go.” 

Jimin blinked. His lips twitched and you knew he was laughing at you. This was not the script the two of you usually followed. Then he shrugged, allowing the smirk to cover his mouth.

“Ok, then, stay.” 

“I don’t want you to go. Don’t leave.” 

He chuckled. 

“Why would I leave? I live here!” 

“Work!” you cried, stumbling as you put a tingling, dead foot on the ground, coming to a stand. “Don’t leave work!” 

He groaned your name in a way you hadn’t heard before and it made your stomach flop. 

“Don’t keep saying that. It’s too late; I’m going!” 

“Don’t.” 

“You going to miss me that badly?” 

You just looked at him. Couldn’t bring yourself to confirm it. Yes. Yes, you were. Yes, you would. Yes, you missed him already. Missed him so much you wanted to pull him closer. Wanted to tangle your fingers in his hair. Wanted to- 

Fuck. 

You started, taking a small step back. 

You wanted him. 

To kiss him. To touch him. To see him. To know him. Not to be his work friend. Not to be his friend. To be his. His. 

It hit you like a ton of bricks and you didn’t know if you wanted to cry or throw up. Maybe both. You weren’t sure how much of it was down to the alcohol and how much to the emotional slap in the face you’d just given yourself.  

“I’m going to miss you, too,” Jimin said, his eyes wide and cute, his smile a little rueful. “So much.” 

You felt something. Something charged. The hairs on your neck pricked. 

“How much?” you asked, voice escaping you in a whisper.  

“So much that it makes me not want to go.” 

You felt your eyes drawn to his, had no choice but to look him in his sweet face, his dark, swirling eyes glinting in the low lamplight. You couldn’t tear them away. Couldn’t move. Felt suspended in this second that stretched and stretched and stretched until it couldn’t stretch anymore. 

“Ji-” 

His name wasn’t out of your mouth before his lips were on it. Soft. Plush. Sweet with wine. His tongue swiped at your lower lip and you were eager to let him in, to taste him, to satisfy the hunger that had reared its ugly head, jaw gaping, teeth dripping, that must have been lying in wait, biding its time, hiding itself even from you.  

There was no denying it now.  

You didn’t talk as Jimin pulled you closer. Didn’t speak as he pulled your tucked-in T-shirt from the waistband of your jeans to slip his hands underneath. Didn’t make a sound when his fingers deftly picked at the clasp of your bra, instantly springing free, to allow his hands beneath that, too.  

Could only just stop yourself moaning when his lips met the sensitive skin on your neck at the same moment as his thumb brushed over your nipple. You couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t make a sound. The silence was so loud and you didn’t want to disturb it, even though what he was doing to you felt so good. Felt so unreal. You didn’t want the noise to puncture it, this bubble, this fantasy, this something that was happening that had been so unexpected even though it, now, felt like it had been a long time coming.  

Then Jimin moaned. Removed his lips from your skin and opened his mouth, letting sound spill from it freely, almost wantonly, as he pulled you even closer. Close enough to feel him against you which set your knees trembling.  

He looked at you, a little hesitation in his eyes, the hem of your top in his hands. You still couldn’t speak, just nodded, put your hands over his and pulled upwards. Watched in stunned silence when he unbuttoned his own shirt, let it fall to the floor.  

It occurred to you then that you had never seen this Jimin before. Not just the kissing and the erection and the arousal pooling in your underwear. You hadn’t even seen him topless. Had never seen the fine trail of hair that dipped beneath his waistband. Had never known he had a tattoo across his ribs.  

Never mind. 

You’d have scoffed if you’d had half a mind about you. Never mind.  

You were minding all this very, very much.  

You reached out to touch him, pressing the pads of your fingers to his chest lightly, testing to make sure he was real. He was. Soft and smooth and rippling with goosebumps under your fingers.  

“Fuck,” you whispered, finally finding your voice.  

“Yes, let’s,” he replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  

You laughed, then laughed some more, shocked at your own surprise.  

Fuck! 

Fuck!! 

Jimin’s mouth was on yours again, more urgent this time. His hands, too, flying over your body, gripping here, pinching there, slipping inside your jeans, flicking the button open and dragging down the zip. You retaliated, pushing his undone trousers to the floor, pushing your hand into his boxers, encircling his hot, hard cock with your fingers. The wobbly whine that trembled out of him made your core clench. 

“Jimin,” you said, breathlessly, calling his attention to your face. 

He held your gaze there for a second, a second or two or three—his hand groping at your backside, yours around his shaft—and then you didn’t need to say anymore. He was grabbing at your jeans and your underwear, pushing them down your legs, pushing you onto the sofa, kissing at your face and your jaw and your neck, all the way down, to your breasts to your navel to the crease of your hips and further.  

You couldn’t have been silent, even if you’d still wanted to be. The wet muscle of his tongue laved over you, all over you, exploring, familiarising, teasing until you were grabbing at his hair, nails scraping his scalp. 

“Jimin!” 

You wanted to shout, to demand, but you only gasped, only whined, your breath taken from you as his lips closed around your clit. Still, it seemed he’d got the message.  

You writhed beneath him as he sucked, as his fingers slipped easily inside you, curling against you insistently while his tongue flicked over your swollen bud, as his lips sucked, as you bucked and twisted and spasmed beneath him. You could have said it was too much, this was too much, but it was Jimin, and suddenly ‘too much’ seemed impossible. You’d have died under him. You’d have let him go forever. As long as he liked. Though you were twitching and squirming and your legs clamped around his head, he didn’t stop. Didn’t stop until you were screaming from one orgasm to another, gushing over his hand, being lapped up into his mouth. Until you were seeing stars. Until your breath barely came in, went panting out in sharp staccato gasps. Until he pulled back, eyes heavy-lidded and dark, mouth wet and shiny, and sat back on his heels.  

“Fuck,” he said and his voice was tight, hoarse, sounded strained.  

Strained like his boxers, still covering him if only barely. He palmed at them, eyelids fluttering, head tipping back.  

“Fuck,” he said again as he brought his face back down to you, as he scattered kisses across your torso. “I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long.” 

The words didn’t register, didn’t hit, because his lips were still moving against you, his hands brushing up your sides and over your breasts, cupping them up to his mouth so he could lick over your pebbled nipples, suck them into his mouth one at a time. You were dazed. 

But not done. 

“Jimin, please.”  

“Please what?” he returned, teeth grazing lightly over the shell of your ear, breath hot and wet against your shivering skin.  

“Please fuck me. Please.” 

He grinned, the glitter in his eyes turning wicked.  

“I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long, too.” 

He abandoned you, briefly, supine on the sofa, as he at last shucked off his underwear and fumbled in his wallet for the condom that was closest to hand.  

He knelt back over you and you felt him at your entrance, one hand holding him there and the other pulling at your thigh, positioning you where he wanted you, how he wanted you. 

He could have you however. As long as he had you.  

“Ready?” he asked, as if he had to. As if you weren’t already tipping your hips trying to capture him, as if your walls weren’t fluttering already, as if you hadn’t made a great mess of his sofa cushions.  

“Yes.” 

You groaned in unison as he slowly pushed into you. You hadn’t expected him to feel this big, stretching you as you squeezed him, as he continued to push until he was fully seated, settled inside you, all the way in.  

He lowered himself onto his elbows, nudged your nose with his, kissed you. Slow and deep, his body unmoving. You wondered what was stopping him, tilted your hips a little, wrapped your legs around him, clenched tight until he shuddered with a gasped laugh. 

“If you don’t want me to come like, immediately, you’re going to have to stop that.” 

You laughed back, in disbelief, still not really experiencing this as the Real Deal, still convinced this might be a dream. That Jimin was fucking you—was not fucking you right now because he needed a second to gather himself, a second to keep it together so he could fuck you.  

You relaxed yourself as much as you could, stroked his hair, flicked his earlobe with your tongue and bit down lightly on the soft flesh. Let your mouth explore where it could reach.  

“Jimin,” you whined, when he still hadn’t moved. “Please.”  

He didn’t reply; his face was tucked into your neck and you could feel his heavy breathing there. You were two seconds from begging again when he finally moved. He dragged backwards, slowly, and shot forward, fast and hard. Then he did it again. And again. His hips moved fluidly; his arms caged you in securely; his lips sucked soft against your skin.  

He had worried it would be quick, but you were sure time was slowing down. It was stretching itself over this moment so that it lasted forever, so that each time Jimin slammed his hips against yours, it took an age; every kiss lasted an hour; every gasp became a long, drawn-out sigh. This wasn’t quick; it was eternal. It was elemental. 

It brought you into your body in a way that made you feel more than human. That made you feel animal. That made you feel pure and unshackled and unburdened. That made you feel free. Free because all you had to pursue was pleasure. All you had to concern yourself with was your body and his and the way they came together. There was no time, no loss, no rush, no ending, nothing to spoil the sanctity of this coupling.  

It wasn’t always like this. You’d been around the block enough to know that this could have ended differently. On another night, you might have been lying on someone else’s sofa, waiting for it to end because you were simply bored now, because they had been all talk and no trousers, because they weren’t doing it right and you couldn’t be bothered to correct them.  

Jimin didn’t need correcting. He was, as ever, a fucking overachiever. His girth pushed against your g-spot with every thrust and his length made each drag deep and lasting. You wondered if there was anything he couldn’t do. 

Then he pushed himself up onto one hand and used his free hand to push low on your abdomen as he continued to piston against you. The gasp it stole from you was choked and you felt your legs twitch, tighten, pull close as the rest of your body collapsed inward, too. He reached his thumb down, pressed it against your clit and let the snap of his hips move you, just slightly, just enough that it was teasing again, that you could feel him in a way that suddenly was not quite enough. Was maddening. 

“Jimin,” you keened, sweat dripping down your spine as your back arched from the sofa. 

“Say it again.” 

“Jimin.” 

“Again.” 

“Fuck, Jimin.” 

He growled, deep in his throat, and your hips jerked as he pressed his thumb harder against you, swirled it in circles, rough and quick until you were coming again, gasping, squirming, clawing at his arms, your back threatening to snap in two. He kept his teeth clenched as he fucked you through it, as he pushed through the tight spasms of your cunt, as he fought to last until the end, until your body flopped, spent and lead-heavy into the cushions. 

Only then did he let go, did he give a final few thrusts, did he moan loud and long as he came.  

He flopped beside you on the sofa and you lay there, breathing heavily in a silence that felt light. You felt his lips press at your clavicle, his fingers then tracing the same spot. Then his lips again. 

“What?” you asked. 

“You’ve got a little mole here,” he murmured, still directing most of his attention towards it. “I haven’t noticed before... I like it.”  

You hummed, satisfied, heart secretly thrilling. You let him kiss you, back and across the straight line of collar bone, flicking his tongue over your mole. What dedicated attention you hadn’t had for such a long time.  

You could feel your eyelids droop, felt as though maybe you should clear some things up before you passed out; you weren’t sure you’d make it that far. Then Jimin spoke, cutting through that drunken, post-coital haze. 

“Never shit where you eat.” 

“What?” 

He looked at you. 

“Never shit where you eat. I don’t fuck coworkers.” 

Reality came crashing in on you like a tsunami. 

You were coworkers. No, you had been coworkers. You weren’t anymore, because Jimin was leaving. Had left. Had worked his last day, celebrated in the pub, and then fucked you into the sofa. Had fucked his former coworker. You.  

“So you’re saying, all this time...?” 

He shrugged. 

“Not necessarily all this time. But yeah... You?” 

You shrugged back. 

“Literally wasn’t aware of it until tonight. Until you were trying to get me to leave.” 

He laughed breathlessly. 

“I wasn’t trying to get you to leave. I was trying to get you into bed.” 

“Oh.” 

A beat. 

“Well, you didn’t do a very good job, did you?” 

He laughed again, full-throated this time. 

“We fucked, didn’t we?” 

“On the sofa.” 

He swatted your arm playfully. 

“Technicality. I still say it counts.” 

“That’s the sort of carelessness and lack of attention to detail that’ll get you fired, y’know?” 

“Oh, you’re firing me?” 

“Perhaps I am.” 

“Wow, fired on my first day. My parents will be so disappointed in me.” 

“First day?” 

You looked up at Jimin, heart racing wildly. None of this had been expected; none of this was sinking in. Did a first day necessarily imply a second? A third? More?  

“First of many... If you want.” 

You did want. You nodded.  

“Great,” he said softly, gently pressing his lips to yours. “We’ll have a meeting in the morning to discuss my probation.” 

“A meeting? Nah, this could be an email.” 

[josnhoes]

Platonic!Yan batfam with young adult reader. Part 3

[Part 2]

Note: Reader is 18-22 years old. Gn reader

Content warning: being treated like a child, being looked down on, stalking, obsessions, soft yandere but still a yandere, reader has memory issues and it's ambiguous as to why, drugging, mentioned abduction, delusional batfam, batfam as a whole basically view you as a child younger then Damien despite you being older, cursing, violence by reader!

Focus on Jason

---

You never liked working the night shift, the walk home was always creepy. A constant impending doom on your shoulder. Sure lately you had the Bats watching you, but tonight they seemed to be missing. You debated on calling a taxi yet you knew at night alone a taxi could be more dangerous then walking. At least when you walk if need be you can try and run.

You passed by a store with TVs in the windows, the news on several of the screens warning of an escape at Arkham. No wonder the bats were missing and the street was empty. You pulled out and gripped the taser your friend had given you tightly in your hand. It was a high voltage one, strong enough to drop a large man, maybe even killer croc the issue was you had to be close by. Still the protection or the hint of it soothed some of your nerves as you sprinted home.

Coming up to your apartment door and without incident had you nearly crying in relief. You began to unlock your door quickly when you felt a hand on your shoulder. It was definitely the paranoia from the news and the late night that made you whip around and jab the taser into whoever it was.

They dropped like a sack of wet flour to your feet unconscious, and you realized who you just tazed. "Oh God...oh God! I just tazed the Redhood, oh fuck oh fuck..." So much for getting home without incident.

Jason came to a faded tingling in his limbs and... his mask on his face? He sat up ready to go on the attack until he saw you. Then he remembered you had tazed him. His sweet little sibling had *tazed* him. He didn't know if he should be proud or worried you had a taser so strong.

You were asleep on the old recliner while he had been laid on the sofa. He recognized some aches, you must have dragged him in. He was impressed you managed to move him on your own. But he'd have to talk to you about not bringing strays into the house. This time it was him but what if it hadn't been him?

Jason groaned because he knew the family would see this whole incident. If not from his mask footage, then from the many cameras Replacement had placed around the apartment and outside it. "Fuck..." He was never going to hear the end of it.

At the sound of a foreign voice you jolted awake and looked at him scared. "Please don't be mad?" Your voice was small, and if he hadn't been paying attention to you he would have missed it.

"Normally folks start with a sorry. But I'll let it slide this time." He was doing his best not to show his softness to you. He wanted to scoup you up and praise you for defending yourself. But another part of him *hated* the fact you had had to do it at all.

"I'm sorry! I... I saw the news about the Arkham break out on the way home and when someone...you touched me I panicked."

He couldn't tell if you were feeling guilty for hurting him or scared he'd hurt you in return. "You got good reaction time kid. What the fuck were you doing out though?" Most employers had safe rooms or an office in the back that employees could hide in during a break out. Usually it was just an at night situation since the day time was usually safe to travel.

"I had to get home. I didn't know about the break out until halfway home, and I was already closer to home than work. It was smarter for me to run home than double back." It was a logical choice on your end, but he still didn't like it.

"Normally I'd be pissed at this," No he wouldn't have not with them his baby sibling. "But given the situation and the fact you brought me inside and left my helmet on I'll let it slide."

He knew he didn't have the usual clean record the bat brood had. Publicly, he was an anti-hero and crime lord. Sure, he hadn't killed anyone recently, but the civilians were always wary because they knew it was on the table for him. It wasn't. He was *trying* to be better, but most didn't see it that way.

"Really?" The hopeful and pathetic look on your face made him chuckle. An action that he knew with the voice modulator was intimidating.

"Really. I'm not even going to tell you to be more careful next time. You need reactions like that in Gotham." They didn't need them, not much longer. The family would keep them safe. He wouldn't fail them like the family had him. In fact... "But, since I *am* the injured party. You're going to let me stay here tonight."

"What? Shouldn't you be out fighting?" You almost seemed desperate to get him out. That was okay he knew you were just scared and shaken from tonight's events.

"That taser did a bit more damage than I expected. I go out now, I would be a liability." That was a lie not that he'd ever let you find that out. "Besides wouldn't it be better to have someone here with you?" He knew you were scared, more scared of the rogues than him.

"But... fine! You get the sofa tonight." You tried so hard to keep some semblance of control in this, that was cute.

"You got it, Sparky." He laughed as you bristled at the nickname. He'd keep you safe, and even if Bruce wanted to, Jason would be free from any scolding. After all, he had been tasked with playing gaurd tonight, from a distance... but this was far more effective. He wouldn't let you die, not like he had, Jason would burn Gotham before he let that happen.

[anjaelle]

Hii I’m in loveeee with your writing I was wondering if you could write a Dave Lizewski x bimbo reader fic?

Oooh this sounds fun. I had to ruminate on this a bit, but I think I got it.

Pairing: College!Dave Lizewski x Bimbo!Reader

Rating: She's tame

Word Count: 1.3K

--

He was staring again. Every time you turned to look at him, he would quickly avert his eyes to the front of the room. In confusion, you turned to look behind you, only to see the blank wall of the classroom. You looked back at him and found him staring straight ahead like he'd been caught doing something bad.

You pulled your phone out of your bag and opened the front facing camera to check to see if you forgot to properly blend your makeup again. Or maybe you had crumbs on your face.

It didn't look like you had anything on your face. Though you did think you could use a re-up on gloss, and maybe a touch-up on your brows. You accidentally left your makeup bag in your dorm, and you kept losing all of your backup purse makeup, so all you had was a lip balm and school stuff. You supposed that you could use this as an excuse to do a quick drugstore run across the street to pick up another backup makeup kit. But you also felt like you'd be missing out on the sushi buffet in the dining hall if you got there too late. You hadn't had sushi in a long time, it would've been a shame to miss it. Then again you could always order it from that one spot you went to with that one guy. What was his name again? Something with a "F"--

"Hello?" The professor said, addressing you and pulling you out of your thoughts. You raised your brows in surprise, and smiled sweetly.

"Hi!"

Your professor tapped her chin with a beautifully manicured nail and looked you over with a funny look on her face. "Your presentation topic for next week?"

"Oh!" You said, looking down at your notes. "Well, I might talk a little about how hard influencing is and how it's actually harder than a 9-5 job. I'm still deciding. What do you think, professor?"

There were a few whispers in the class as she thought hard on the question. At least that's what you thought she was doing.

"Why don't you workshop that and get back to me tomorrow?" She finally said, turning away from you and moving onto another classmate.

You pouted at yet another presentation subject being shot down and made a note in the margins of your notebook to do just that. You hated going to her office hours, because you felt like you could never really do anything right.

When class let out, you pulled your phone out to text your friends about your change of plans tomorrow, when you felt a gentle touch on your elbow and turned to find Lizewski. Knowing that he was quiet and always a little bit stuttery, you smiled politely and gave him your full attention.

"Hi, how are you?"

"H-Hey," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, "Uh...I saw that you've been having a bit of a hard time with our media class."

A few people passed by the two of you in the hallway and greeted you but shot a curious look his way.

"It's so bad isn't it?" You frowned, crossing your arms in front of your chest, "I'm literally so great at most Social Media outlets, I don't understand why this is so hard. I mean...it's all the same shit."

He nodded, wide eyed and eager as always, "You're so right."

"And I'm trying really hard, but I just can't get it."

"I can help!" He blurted out. "Only if you want. I mean, you probably don't need my help. But I'd be happy to, if you want."

"You'd help me?" You asked, genuinely touched. "I don't know if I can pay you much, but how much do you want?"

"You don't have to pay me, come on." He dropped his eyes to his sneakers and shifted his weight on his feet, "We've known each other since middle school."

This time your eyes widened in surprise, "We have?"

This time it was his turn to look at you in surprise and confusion, "You went to my Bar Mitzvah."

"I did?" Then you thought about it, "I only remember going to one, and it was this boy named David."

He let out a short laugh and nodded, "Yes, that was me."

"David?! But everyone calls you Lizewski! That's your last name?" He nodded again and you gasped. Your whole world turned upside down. Without thinking you pulled him into a tight hug, "It's so nice to see you again, David! I thought you moved away in high school!"

"No," he said against your shoulder, "I just grew my hair out. And got taller. And you can call me Dave, or David, or Lisewski. Whatever you want."

You pulled away from the hug with a huge grin, and you reached out to readjust his glasses which sat crookedly on his face. Then you looked him over, trying to see the skinny thirteen year old you remembered in the grown man in front of you. You could almost see it. If he cut his hair shorter, and lost about a foot of height, he'd totally look the same. You grasped his shoulders in appreciation.

"Well this is wonderful! I've never had a friend for longer than 3 years before!"

As you walked side by side across campus, you could feel people staring like you had three heads. After the fourth set of eyes on you, you nudged Dave with your elbow.

"Do I have something on my face?" You tilted your head from side to side so he could examine you properly, and he shook his head.

"No, why?"

"People keep staring at me." You frowned, "It's kind of weird."

Dave said nothing at first, but looked around to see the evidence of your suspicion and sighed. "I think it's because you're hanging out with me."

You snorted, "That can't be it. That's so silly."

He kicked a small rock down the footpath and hummed in disagreement, "Is it? I mean...you're you. I'm me. We don't really hang out. I think people are used to seeing you with guys from...Sigma Alpha Epsilon"

You still didn't get it, and you crinkled your nose in disgust at the mention of the name.

"I don't talk to them. They're losers," you shuddered again, "They all have a weird obsession with skulls too. Have you ever seen those skulls with the blue stripe down the middle? They all have them on their trucks. It's so weird."

You watched him raise a single brow as he kicked the rock further down the path, "Are you talking about The Punisher's symbol?"

Before you could ask, he showed you a picture on his phone and you nodded.

"Yeah that's it! What's The Punisher? Is that, like, a band?"

He chuckled, "It's a comic book character and his symbol gets misused a lot. He's a vigilante."

You frowned, thinking of why someone would choose to do something like that. That seemed kind of mean.

"Well can you really see me hanging out with a bunch of guys who like vigilantes?"

For some reason, Dave's step seemed to falter, and he peered at you curiously, "Oh. Are you--do you think vigilantes are bad?"

There was a hint of poorly disguised panic in his voice.

You were confused about why he was confused. The answer was obvious.

"Vigils are a good thing," you said, matter-of-factly. You were surprised that you had to break this down to someone as smart as him. "Sometimes people have vigils for their dead grandmas and their pets, and stuff. Someone who's anti-vigils is obviously not a good person."

Dave gave you a long, strange look and laughed. Like, actually laughed. You didn't understand what was so funny about being pro-vigils. You felt like that wasn't exactly a controversial opinion. Were you on the wrong side of history this whole time? Were vigils actually bad?

"Are they bad for the environment or something? Like, the candles?" You squinted at him. He rushed to ease your worries with an extended hand.

"No! No, it's--vigilantes aren't people who are anti-vigils. They beat up bad people."

Oh.

"What a weird name to have for that," You admitted rolling the word over in your brain. Then you brightened at the memory of something, "Hey there was a guy back home that was like that! Kick-Ass! Do you remember him?"

He said nothing for a moment, but shrugged in response.

"Yeah, kinda."

"All the girls in our grade were obsessed with him," you continued, fishing through your bag for your dorm key. "At first, we thought it was that one weird guy who used to try and sell us coke from the trunk of his car down the street from our school. But one girl said that he saved her dad from getting jumped, and he was apparently, like, young. At least college aged."

"Ha," Dave simply said, "Maybe. I kind of remember people thinking it was someone from our school, though. Someone most people wouldn't even really expect, because it'd be super hard to keep a low profile. Someone who's probably super strong and really cool, even though most people don't know it."

You suddenly giggled, "What if it was that guy Todd Haynes?"

Dave stumbled over his own feet and shot his hand out to steady himself.

"You know who Todd Haynes is?"

"Yeah, I know him. He was in my gym class!"

"He's my best friend, I've known him my whole life. I'm--shocked that you know him." You brightened at the new information.

"I didn't know Todd had friends! You sure are full of surprises today." He stared at you again. For a super long time. You weren't sure what was going on in his brain. You touched your cheek, "Again with the staring. I think you're lying. I definitely have something on my face."

[whispering-ways]

Hear me out. Softdom!Mike (fnaf) takes you to work with him and wants you to cockwarm him while he looks over the cams

˖⁺‧₊˚♡ checking the cameras ♡ ˚₊‧⁺

◉ summary: mike takes you to work, but you become incredibly bored incredibly quick. luckily, Mike has a solution for that.

◉ pairings: mike schmidt x reader

◉ tags: cockwarming, nicknames like love and baby

◉ notes: anon I literally adore you for this, i know in my bone marrow that Mike is a soft Dom!!! hope you like this short fic!

You were always a fan of true crime since you were little. So when your boyfriend, Mike, offered for you to come with him during a shift, you jumped at the opportunity. I mean the place was just riddled with mystery; I mean missing children at an entertainment place? You knew there had to be some sort of clue to what had happened so many years ago and you were going to get to the bottom of it.

You were expecting a fun night of snooping around, but Mike had said that was absolutely not allowed. It was understandable; he was working hard at this gig and he couldn't have anything fuck it up for him. 

Nevertheless, it actively killed any excitement the pizzeria once had. It didn't take long for you to become absolutely mind-numbing bored. You'd practically done everything you could in Mike's office. Flip through manuals, make paper swans out of old napkins, watch the training VHS tapes, there was nothing more you could do within that office.

"Well, almost nothing," you thought, looking over to Mike. You had to admit, he looked pretty good in a uniform and it's not like you had anything better to do. You walked over to his chair and climbed in his lap, thighs trapping him down to his seat. 

His focus shifted from the cameras to you, moving his hands to hold you up from the small of your back. "What's up love?" he asks with a soft but tired smile.

"Babe~!" you said dragging out each syllable. "I'm so bored...can I please just ride you?" you whine.

Mike's face flushes red, but it slowly leaves as he lets out a tired sigh. "As much as I'd love that, and truly I would, I'm too fucking tired for that and plus I've gotta watch these cameras baby."

You didn't want to push him, so you nod your head, dissapointment written all over your face. You lay your head in the crook of his neck; if you couldn't have his dick inside you, you were at least gonna cuddle him. 

Mike hated to see you upset like this. How could he concentrate on work when his love was in his arms feeling so sad? He patted your back, making you sit back up. "Why don't you just cockwarm me for a bit love? Itd be nice to have you around me while I look at the cameras."

You nodded enthusiastically, happy at the compromise. You quickly reached to pull your shorts off, leaving you in your panties as you ground down on his crotch. Mike put his hands on your hips, pulling you up just enough for him to unzip and push his pants down just enough for you to have access to him. He placed you back in his lap gently and you conrinued to grind down on him, feeling his erection poke through his boxers.

It didn't take long for you to pull down your panties and line yourself up with Mike, impatient to have him inside you. You slowly slipped the tip in, hissing at the stretch. 

"Fuck baby, you're so tight~" Mike groaned out. You loved how raspy his voice would get every time you both messed around. You slipped all of him inside you, finally bringing your hips down to his. His dick filled you up in all the right places; although it was average in size, it made up in length with thickness. 

Instinctively, you started to raise your hips to ride him, before feeling Mike's hands on your side again, pulling you back down roughly. "Remember you're just cockwarming. Don't disobey okay? If you're good for me, maybe we can mess around later after my shift."

"Ugh~ fine," you say reluctantly, sinking back into his  chest.

He chuckles at how much you wanted him. "Good girl," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

Something about being so close to Mike managed to make you sleepy and although you did your best to prevent it, you felt your eyes close.

You woke up to Mike tapping your back again to let you know it was time to go back home. You look up at him groggily before noticing you'd been cockwarming him all shift. Mike wordlessly helped put your clothes back on and led you back to his car, letting you sleep in the back seat as he drove him.

After checking in on Abby and sending the babysitter away, he brought you to his bedroom, gently laying you down on his bed. You instinctively pull the blanket around you, only to have it ripped away a few seconds later, the cold air now jolting you awake. 

You look up to see Mike above you, blanket in hand and a smile stretched across his face. "Baby you can't go to sleep just yet. I have to reward you for being so good don't I?" he said in a low voice.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Hiii!

I found your stories a few hours ago and they are perfect, I don't think I ever went through someone's account so fast hahah

If it's fine with you, could you do a sequel to the yandere bully story? Maybe what would happen if reader ended up too scared of his bullying and decided to change school, or had to move away due to personal reasons! What would be yandere's reaction?

Of course, it's just a request, so feel free to not do it if you don't feel like doing it!

Loving your stories, keep it up, I'm rooting for you! ❤

Yandere!Bully x Fem!Reader part 2

CW: Bullying, breaking and entering

Simon's mind went blank. It was as if the organ didn't want to process what he had just learned, so it decided to power off instead.

"Yeah, apparently she started homeschooling." The sharp nosed boy tried his best to bite back his smile. A year younger than Simon, Nicky looked up to him, aspiring to be just as (much of a bully) cool as he was. So when he overheard the office ladies sympathetically discussing Simon's favorite victim, he made sure to gather as much information as he could in order to try and impress Simon; gain his favor.

The squirrelly brunette had prepared mentally for a number of different reactions Simon could have had to the news: anger, disappointment, mild amusement.. but when he turned his eyes away from his milk box it confused him to see Simon's stare empty.

Thinking that Simon didn't care Nicky doubled down. "My sources say she was too scared to name her bullies, and that she just wanted it to end without a confrontation."

'She left because of me??' Simon squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to shut out the kid yapping beside him. When (Reader) didn't come to school Simon was, of course, worried. He thought that she might have gotten sick, or worse. The worry over not being able to see her beautiful face was eating him up, and he admittedly began lashing out at other people, really making him into the bully (Reader) thought he was. But now he was hearing that she had left the school because of him??

"It's a good thing she didn't snitch, huh?" The prideful child said in a haughty way, pleased with himself (even though Simon didn't know, or care, why).

"Why are you telling me this?" 'Can't you see how fucked up you got me right now??'

"Huh?" Startled and suddenly nervous, Nicky wrung the bottom of his hoodie in an attempt to calm his stutter. "B- I just, I thought, because you- you seemed to hate her, ya know? So I thought- I just thought you'd be interested to know.."

"Great. Now I know." Simon's voice was hard and sharp. He wanted to cry, but he sounded like he was on the verge of attacking the younger kid. "What am I supposed to do with that information?"

Heart in his throat and lip trembling, Nicky handed over his phone with the camera open. "I took a picture of her address.."

Knock knock knock!

(Reader) happily rolled off the couch and made her way to the front door. Neither of her parents were home and she had already finished all of her classwork, so the student had been relaxing while scrolling through her phone. She had only been homeschooled for a week, but was already back to her old self again. (Reader) was so stress free that she wasn't as paranoid about an unexpected visitor as she probably should have been.

She opened the front door without peaking to see who it was, and she didn't have time to process that it was Simon until he had already shoved himself inside and closed the door behind him. All of the fear and anxiety that (Reader) had finally worked through snapped back like a rubber band, physically hurting her chest.

"What- Get out!" Her shaky voice commanded.

"Shut up." Simon had planned on being comforting and sweet, rehearsing the entire trip on how to apologize and finally woo (Reader) correctly. To mend all the damage his foul personality had accidentally done. But then he was there, in her hallway, and she looked so scared of him.. "What were you thinking? Not coming to school. I thought you might've killed yourself." His attempt to show how worried he was for her only sounded like a threat as it left his lips.

(Reader) thought about her phone she left on the couch, and wondered if she could get to it before he could grab her. "Please leave me alone.." If only she could inch backwards as subtly as possible..

"Why? I came here to make sure you were okay." Simon grabbed her wrist and squeezed tightly enough for her to bite the inside of her cheek. "Come back to school."

"..No."

His grip tightened.

"I- I can't!" (Reader) struggled to break free as the tears began to pool up. "Do you know how difficult it was to get into homeschooling?? More than half way through the year?? I didn't drop out!! I couldn't go back, even if I wanted to!" Her pleas made sense, but Simon was already too heartbroken to hear them.

"Then I guess I'm going to be your new study buddy." His smile was supposed to be kind, suave. He wanted to look caring and dashing. But to (Reader) his half lidded eyes and tight smile looked like a malevolent smirk.

"What?"

"What? You thought you could run away from me? It's not like your family has enough money to just up and move whenever they want." Simon glanced around at the furniture visible from the entrance to double check that they, in fact, were not rich enough to move whenever. "And now I know where you live."

(Reader) parted her lips to talk back, but Simon quickly closed the gap between them, pulling her into his chest and kissing her painfully. He had imagined their first kiss many many times, and it was never like this. But it didn't matter if it was rushed and he pulled her in too hard and he slammed his lips against her's too forcefully. The young man wanted to beg her to never leave his side again, but instead as he turned around to leave he only left her with another warning.

"Don't even think about calling the cops. I'll be back to check up on you again later.. and if you try to run again, I'll fucking find you."

[st4rg1rl-16]

━━ ✶✶˖° 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗜𝗫 | 𝗡𝟰𝗦.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴(𝘀) ━ 2019 to 2023!11 grid x driver!female oc

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ━ mattia calls for a meeting to talk about the relationship between his drivers, after it nick becomes suspicious about his feelings towards arabella

𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 ━ 2019, 10 april

𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ━ shanghai, china

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ━ anxiety, anxiety attack, sexism (there’s going to be a lot of this in this fic) mattia binotto slowly starting to show his true colors, kids being little shits to our babygirl

���𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ━ i was going to post this yesterday for valentines but since I’m single af and I was tired and bored of seeing all those people in love I tried to do my own bangs and guess what? i fucked up HAHSHSH so I was sad (I still am, I hate my hair so much right now) btw the parts in cursive like this are flashbacks or little previews of the future, keep that in mind!!!

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ━ @namgification @louvrepool @d3kstar @omgsuperstarg @whoselly @yl90 @wcnorris

• — need for speed’s masterlist

“OH, I also receive threats from tifosi. Things like "You are a traitor, you have left Ferrari for the enemy."

"Why did you leave Ferrari?" The interviewer, sitting in front of her but out of the eye of the camera, asked her.

The twenty-two-year-old Arabella let out a laugh in a snort raising her hips to get more comfortable in the armchair “Ferrari was not very... kind to me so I stopped being kind to Ferrari”.

Two, almost three, years earlier, an eighteen-year-old Arabella was sitting in an uncomfortable chair without being able to avoid comparing the beginning of her day to that moment. The cold office did not look anything like the warm room, the uncomfortable chair could not be compared to the comfortable and soft bed and, of course, the look that Mattia Binotto was giving her was the opposite of the affectionate and warm look that Charles had given her when she had woken up in his arms.

She looked up at her manager, who watched her standing behind Ferrari's boss, with his arms crossed over his chest and serious face. Next to him was Charles' manager.

She looked down at her hands where her fingers had begun to play with the rings that occupied the opposite fingers. She wanted to look at Charles to see a smile, a look or at least feel his hand against her giving hers a squeeze trying to say that everything was going to be fine but she preferred not to do it.

"I'm going to get straight to the point, I don't want to waste some time we need" The Italian's black curls peeked out under the red cap when he shook his head looking at his wrist where a watch was. He looked up to the front again to see his drivers “Are you dating, yes or no?”.

A deep silence crossed the room after the question while the three "adults" looked at them expectantly. The silence was clear but for Arabella there was a lot of noise in the room, she could hear her heart beating in her ears, Charles' breathing next to her, the annoying noise that Binotto's fingertips made when he hit the glass of his desk.

When he saw that they didn't answer, the Italian let out a sigh “I need you to tell me the truth. It's not that I care who you sleep with but the men above seem to care and they don't find it funny their drivers dating” He looked at them desperately “You can lose your seats in Ferrari because of this, guys”.

"It would be a breach of contract," Nicolas, the manager of the 16, said in a sigh. He looked at his client with severity “Not only would you lose your position in Ferrari but you could be sued”.

An alarm began to sound non-stop in the head of the youngest in the room, suddenly she felt a dizziness and her chest contracted. She thought of her parents, of her brother, of her eleven-year-old self. It would be a disappointment for them.

Everything she had fought for would go to hell in a second.

She dared to look at Charles sideways and when she did she had to take a breath, he was already looking at her. She separated her gaze from his and lowered it to the ground, her hands began to play with each other again before she squeezed her jaw and looked up: looking, for the first time since she had entered the room, at their boss.

"We're just friends, can't friends hold hands?" A crooked smile slipped down her lips while she shrugged "I'm sorry, I can't help it, I'm very affectionate. You can ask Carlos, Lando or anyone, I'm always holding hands with them or hugging them”.

The eldest of the room turned to her manager looking for confirmation and when he saw Nick nod he let out a sigh of relief that almost went unnoticed by the others present. He turned his gaze to the young duo in front of him and nodded to himself "Well, then there's not much to say. You are free to go”.

The first to get up from the chair was the girl, who began to go to the glass door wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible. She heard the chair in which Charles was sitting crawling on the floor and a short time later she felt his presence behind her. She placed her hand on the doorknob ready to leave but the voice of the team boss stopped her.

"Avoid expressions of affection in public, please. We can let it go once, but twice...”His tone was calm but it hid something behind his words, the girl didn't want to jump to conclusions but could swear that it was a threat. She knew that the words were for the both of them, but then, why did she feel his eyes only on her?.

She heard Charles' voice respond with a "Yes, sir" while she turned again to get out of there once and for all but then she heard her name with a slight Italian accent overflowing through the white walls causing her hand to freeze on the doorknob, she closed her eyes strongly waiting for the worst.

"I'm sorry for what has happened in Twitter, the advertizing team has already taken care of everything. I can't even imagine what you've been through” His words were nice and even somewhat kind but the tone with which he had said them made it clear that those were not the feelings he really felt towards the girl. She looked at him over her shoulder, ignoring the questioning expression on Charles' face and the frown of her manager, and nodded before running out of there.

She passed through the garage aware of the not at all disguised looks of the team on her, she accelerated the pace wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible.

She needed to be alone, get away from reality even if it was for ten minutes. She felt that at any moment she was going to faint.

She went to her driver’s room, she was mentally grateful that the area of the rooms was empty, she hurried to close the door but Charles' foot in the middle prevented her from doing so. She looked up slowly over the boy's leg until she reached his face, she snarled.

"Move”.

“No”.

"Charles, move” She pushed the door but with the boy's foot in the middle it didn't move too much. She looked at him angrily “Remove it or I'll destroy your foot”.

"We have to talk about what has happened, Bells" He looked at her pleadingly but she still didn't remove her expression from her face.

"There's nothing to talk about" She snarled, squeezing her grip on the doorknob "Everything has already become clear in there”.

The Monegasque bit his lower lip, this could not be happening. Only four hours ago they were lying in bed kissing until they were out of breath. He looked at her face, her precious face, and cursed himself for having fallen into her charms. Because of them, they were now on a thin line that threatened to break. He felt guilty, he was the one who had kissed her, he was the one who was looking for her, he had started everything.

On the other hand, he was angry, with Binotto, with him and right now with her. Why did she have such a hard time talking about things? Why did she run away at the first change? He thought that maybe it was because she was younger than him, after all, they were three years apart and she was only eighteen, she was a still a kid.

He sighed leaning his forehead on the door “Whether you like it or not, we have to talk”.

A silence formed between the two that was soon interrupted by the girl's sobs trying to escape through her throat, he heard her sip her nose.

"What do we have to talk about, Charles?" She no longer sounded angry but sad and hurt, her voice trembled "We can't be together, if we do we will lose our seats. Everything is against us”.

A puncture made a hole in the male driver’s chest “So that's it? Don't you want us to be together?”.

She opened the door and pushed him into the room, closed the door quickly. Unfortunately, now they couldn't risk anyone seeing them arguing or anything. Now they would have to think very carefully about what their interactions would be like both in public and in private, you never know because as her grandmother said "the walls have ears and eyes."

Charles dedicated himself to observing her, her green eyes were already injected with blood and her cheeks wet. Her nose was red. He felt even worse because he knew it was his fault.

"It's not that I don't want to be with you, it's that I can't!" She exclaimed frustrated. She was tired, she felt that all this was way big for her. Her anxiety didn't help the situation too much and that she had little experience in couple arguments wasn't very helpful either. She moved her hands in front of her showing her frustration, she didn't really know how to express her feelings or her thoughts “I can't risk everything I've achieved, everything I've suffered for”.

"And you think I haven't suffered?" He looked at her in disbelief "I have also suffered to get here. It took me a long time to get here, you know?”.

An ironic smile stuck on her lips as she snorted “You have grown up with money, with friends and a dick between your legs. I didn't. I hardly had any money to eat, the other children didn't want to be my friends and I was a girl. You don't know how difficult it is to be a girl in this world and much less in a sport in which there are only men. So yes, it may be that you have suffered, but I don't think you have suffered the same as I did”.

"I understand, but you can't run away just like that" He tried to touch her arm but she moved away, he licked his dry lips and frowned feeling rejected "What did Mattia mean by what happened in Twitter?".

He observed how the color went away from her skin and how her face deformed showing several emotions that he didn’t know how to decipher although he could differentiate the fear from the others before faking a look of indifference “I don't know”.

"Yes, you do" He raised his arm pointing to her face "You have it written all over your face, don't lie to me”.

"I'm not lying to you”.

"Then tell me!".

"There's nothing to tell".

Both began to raise their voices, one more fed up than the other of the conversation. It was clear that neither of them wanted to have that conversation but, unfortunately, you don't always have what you want.

Charles' face began to take the same color as the red that decorated some of the walls and objects of the room, a vein began to take shape on his forehead “Let me help you, Arabella! I'm here for you, it's not that hard, fuck!”.

"Maybe not for you, but for me it is!" She shouted back, her eyes getting redder and red as tears ran freely down her cheeks. She put a hand to her chest and pulled her shirt “I feel like I can't breathe every time I want to explain how I feel and you want me to let you help me because...don't you feel connected to me or something like that?! I'm sorry, okay?! I'm sorry I'm not like the other girls you've dated, I'm sorry I can't tell you at all times what I'm thinking or feeling!”.

Finally the silence was present between them, the only thing that could be heard was the girl's quick breathing and how the boy absorbed his nose from time to time. Both were with red eyes and soaked cheeks.

Finally she let out a sob breaking the silence, wiped her nose with the sleeve of her red sweatshirt and gave him a sad smile “I'm sorry, but I can't risk it”.

"Ma belle, I..." The angriness that ran through his body was still there but now Charles felt bad, bad because she was right.

She took a breath of air feeling an anxiety attack cover her body, squeezed her lips trying to swallow the sob that was on its way down her throat and looked at him with her eyes bathed in tears "Everything has gone very fast and look at us" She pointed between the two while shaking her head "Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. We should give ourselves some time”.

And with that she turned around and, again, she ran out of there, leaving Charles trying to pick up the pieces of his broken heart from the ground.

“ELVIRA, Elvira...” The tall man's gaze moved non-stop throughout the red garage, trying to find the black and smooth hair between the sea of red shirts.

He clicked his tongue rolling his hand in the bicep of his little girl's engineer, Alexander raised his neck to look at him curiously.

"Have you seen Elvira?" He asked urgently to which the eldest smiled broadly, kneeling his index finger in the chest of the tall one, he looked at his finger frowning before turning his gaze to the man.

"I knew that there was something between you two" He also clicked his tongue shaking his head while the blond looked at him as if a second head had come out on his shoulder.

He began to question whether that man was in a good mental state to be a Formula One engineer but he ignored it, it was not the time.

"Have you seen her yes or no?"

"Ah, yes, yes" He took off his glasses and wiped them clean with the edge of his red polo shirt before pointing in the opposite direction "I think I saw her go around there”.

He sighed a thank you before starting to jog in that direction. He felt a bad feeling on his chest, he knew that something was not right as soon as he left the office of the head of the team. Had he heard wrong or had Binotto threatened Arabella? Well, technically he had threatened both of them but while he was doing it, he could see his gaze on the girl more than on the monegasque.

He moved in the direction of the cafeteria, he lightened his step when he saw the black, long and smooth hair move on one side on the fabric of the red polo shirt that covered Elvira's back. He approached her exclaiming her name, making her stand in her place and turn to look at her.

"What did Mattia say?" She asked him once he was close to her. The publicist observed him worried because although she knew Arabella for a short time, she had taken affection for her and was worried about her.

He took her by the elbow and started pulling her “Come, we have to talk somewhere where they don't hear us”.

The woman's frown furrowed as she looked at the back of the blond's head, beginning to feel anguish in her chest “It was that bad?”

He pulled her until he found a small space between garages, they both got into the small "alley" hoping that there was no one nearby to listen to them.

"Nick, can you tell me what happened?!" Elvira was already hysterical, her coworker was getting on her nerves with so much secrecy.

He raised his hands trying to calm her down "Well, okay, okay" He put both hands on his hips and took a breath “I have the slight suspicion that Binotto has threatened Arabella”.

"What?" She looked at him strangely "What do you mean, has he threatened her?".

"He was scolding them over the photo that has gone viral but his gaze was on her all the time, it was as if Charles was not present. And in the end he said something like "it can't be repeated again" and, seriously, Elvi, he just looked at her!”

"But, it doesn't have to. Arabella hasn't done anything wrong”.

"Not everyone likes a woman in Formula One, Elvira. Mattia may be one of them”

"But he has been treating her well so far”.

"Maybe he was trying to be professional until he saw the opportunity" He sighed running his hand over his face showing his frustration.

Maybe they were taking things out of context but when there was as much money involved as there was in Formula One, neither of them was surprised that the situation was true.

Both remained silent, weighing the situation and the consequences it would bring with it if it were true.

The woman with pale skin like milk bit her lower lip “Do you think she has noticed?”.

"I know she did. Arabella is an observer, of course she has noticed” He nodded, turning his head to look for something to sit on. There were a couple of boxes so he took a few steps back and sat on top of them, he really needed to sit down. He felt that his blood pressure was raising.

"And what are you going to do?".

"For the moment, try not to get her into some scandal that involves Leclerc, keep an eye on Mattia and pray that these two years will pass quickly and without any problems”.

"And when her contract with Ferrari ends?".

"Last month Toto Wolff made it very clear that he is interested in Arabella, Zak and Christian are also looking to sign her" He denied with a smile on his face, but it was not a smile of joy but one of incredibleness.

"Horner? I don't think it's a good idea for her to go to Red Bull, not when they have Verstappen”.

He nodded in agreement with her “Yes, they would belittle her as they do with Pierre but if she goes to Mercedes they would do the same, they have the five-time champion as the leading driver”.

"Valtteri doesn't seem very unhappy" She crossed her arms resting his back on the wall.

"This sucks" He let out a sigh, throwing his head back "When she was in Formula Two, everything was much easier. I miss that”.

She looked at him with empathy “But now she is in Formula One. She is going to be a star, Nick”.

"But the stars fall from the sky and I don't want her to be hurt. You've already seen what they say about her on the internet, she's just a little girl!” Unintentionally, his head revived yesterday when his was in his hotel room watching a chinese romantic comedy and suddenly his phone seemed to explode from all the notifications he was receiving. He almost started to cry when he read the things people said about Arabella.

"She is a little girl who drives a car at three hundred kilometers per hour defying death every weekend. She is a little girl who has entered in Fotmula One, something that no little girl has been able to achieve for many years” She approached him looking at him with sadness because she knew it hurt. I knew that the girl was the closest thing he had to a daughter “You know she's not just a little girl”.

"But it's been so recently that her race suit was bigger than her" An expression of melancholy crossed his face as he remembered a little Arabella fighting with her race suit so that it didn't fall off her waist.

"I know that you've known her for many years and that you see her as a daughter and that's why it hurts you that all this is happening because you know that it also hurts her, but it's her dream, isn't it?" She looked at him expectantly and after a few seconds he nodded.

He began to play with his hands, a bead bracelet, clearly made by a little girl, peeked out of the sleeve of his left arm attracting the woman's attention. It was seen that it was old because the beads were white but with pieces of colors staining them indicating that they had lost the color and the rope on which it held itself seemed to be struggling for every second of it’s life.

She was able to appreciate the letters forming a 'Nicky ♡'.

"I have shed sweat, blood and tears for that girl since I met her ten years ago" He began to play with the bracelet, an act he did every time he was nervous "And I have never asked for anything in return, only that nothing ever happened to her but now there are fifty thousand people saying dirty shit about her on twitter, her boss seems to hate her and I don't know what to do. I always know what to do but not now” The air got stuck in his chest and his voice trembled becoming hoarse “And I can't ask her because she has trouble letting people help her, now I never know what she's thinking and I know that her anxiety is not helping. And I'm afraid because I'm the one who must protect her, her parents gave me that honor and now I can't do it”.

She stroked her arm to tell him that she was there for him, she felt a tear running down her cheek "You're doing well, Nick. Just... talk to her and make it clear that you are there for her.”

The man let out a little laugh “I wish it was so easy”.

“AND Arabella Torres crosses the finish line two minutes apart from Marcos Gómez!

From ear to ear, the smile of the eleven-year-old girl couldn't be bigger. From the podium she looked at the audience and smiled even more –if it was possible– when some hands showed up in front of her and extended the trophy. Her small hands took it between tremors, she analyzed it for a few seconds before lifting it over her head. She looked at her podium teammates waiting to see their smiles but it wasn't like that, both children looked at her seriously before looking at each other sharing a look of displeasure.

Suddenly her smile no longer reached her ears.

She lowered the trophy and after the photos she got off the podium, trying to find her parents. She pulled the brilliant trophy without much desire going to where they decided that she would meet with her family after finishing the race.

"I'm sick of her" The voice of the second winner of the day filled her ears, she frowned and hid behind a wall of one of the trailers.

Listening to other people's conversations is wrong, Arabella. Her mother would have said but she couldn't help it.

"I don't understand what she is doing here" Another voice joined him "She's a girl! This is not for girls”.

"My father said that they let her win because her family is very poor”.

"In addition to the fact that she is very annoying, I hate her. She gives me a headache just for listening to her”.

"She's not even good at driving”.

"She thinks she is a big deal for being the only girl but she'll never get to anything”.

Maybe she should have thought more about what her mother told him and not let curiosity win her over. Because as they say, curiosity killed the cat but this time it killed the heart of little Arabella.

A pout began to threaten to be present on her small lips, she released the trophy and turned around ready to run away but her body crashing into a larger one prevented her from doing so.

"I'm sorry" She murmured, passing her small hand formed in a fist through her eyes, trying to wipe away the tears.

"Don't worry" The man bent down to see her better, he extended a tissue to her "You're today's champion, right?".

She frowned slightly when she heard him speak in english and let out the smallest of sighs, it's not that she was bad at english but she still didn't speak it fluently and it was a little tedious for her to have to be speaking in another language being sad.

She looked up a little, enough to see the tissue in his hands and accepted it murmuring a "Thank you" before wiping her face, once she did she looked at the man.

"Sebastian Vettel" A gasp came out of her little lips when she realized that he was the Formula One driver. She couldn't believe it, it was Sebastian Vettel!

The german laughed "Yes, that's me. What's your name?”.

"Arabella" She said and he extended his hand to her, she looked at him curiously.

"Nice too met you, Arabella” Between his gigantic hand he took hers and waved them up and down "Now, can you tell me why you were crying? Are you lost? I can help you find your parents”.

"No, no, I know where they are" The tissue moved with every gesture that the little girl made and Vettel smiled again, the girl seemed adorable with her big green eyes and dressed in her little race suit.

He had always wanted to have a daughter, he was still very young but he was sure of it and even more so after seeing little Arabella.

"Well, then?".

He regretted asking because he quickly noticed that she was uncomfortable, he squeezed his lips in a thin line waiting for the girl to say something. He opened his mouth to talk because it seemed like she wasn't going to tell him anything but he shut up when she suddenly answered.

"The other children hate me for being a girl" She shrugged, looking down at the tissue in her hands, began to play with it while a sad smile stuck in her lips "It’s okay, not always people have to like me”.

A puncture made a hole in the blond driver's chest. How is it that a little girl of nine, ten or eleven years old –he wasn’t very sure about her age– could speak like that? He grimaced by responding to himself, probably because she was already used to being rejected.

He looked at her with sympathy “That's true, not everyone will always like you and that's why you don't care. You have to ignore what they tell you or think, the only important thing here is you”.

Arabella looked at him with bright eyes and admiration coming out of every pore of her body because one of her favorite Formula One drivers was there in front of her giving her some advice. A piece of advice that she would take very serious.

"Seb, Seb!" A blond boy with blue eyes shouted the german's name as he ran towards them. Arabella looked at him cautiously, she didn't want another boy to make fun of her, much less in front of the next Formula One champion.

The older blond turned as soon as he heard the boy's voice and could swear that if he had looked in front of a mirror he could have seen a light bulb light up above his head. He smiled at the boy when he finally arrived next to them.

"Seb, dad is looking for you" He said between accelerated breaths, swallowed saliva and looked up, colliding with that of the mysterious girl who was with her father's friend. He frowned.

"Yes, I'm coming" Even without erasing his smile, he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and brought him closer to him "I want to introduce you to someone”.

"What are you doing?" He asked in german to what Sebastian looked at him badly.

"She's Arabella" He pointed to the girl, making him to look back at her. He observed her, she was a little taller than him and his green eyes attracted more attention than his blue ones. She was in a red and blue rice suit and a trophy was lying on the ground, not far from her, he deduced that she was the champion of the race. She sent him a smile to which he replied blushing, she was beautiful.

Sebastian's smile got bigger “He is Mick and I think you are going to be great friends”.

She hid her face between her arms and squeezed her grip on her knees more, bringing them even closer to her chest if that was possible. She let out several sobs, one stronger than the previous one, almost drowning with her own tears.

She cried for herself, for her family, for the boys and cried for Charles.

She had screwed up everything and she didn't know how she was going to fix it or if she could fix it.

She regretted everything and for a moment she wanted to go back to that moment when she decided to sit for the first time in that kart that was not for her and avoid it, if she had not touched it maybe now she would be in college and would be a normal girl with normal problems or maybe she would be unemployed struggling to find something to put in her mouth, she didn't know but at that moment anything seemed better than the present.

At what point had she stopped being in a hotel room living a honeymoon moment with Charles to have broke up with him, to have been threatened by her boss to fire her and be sexualized on twitter?.

"Oh, tyttö" Little girl. She heard someone's voice bringing her back to reality, she still didn't raise her head because her body had stopped working, she didn't feel anything. "What happened to you?".

She heard a few steps and then a presence near her, she felt like some hands made her raise her head, finding Kimi Räikönnen's cold blue eyes looking at her with some concern.

She couldn't answer, when she tried to speak her lips contracted in a pout and another sob ran away for them. The blond frowned, holding her head.

"You have to breathe, tyttö” He said but he didn't get an answer. The girl in front of him really looked like a corpse. He moved her head between his hands “Eh! Tyttö, are you listening to me? Breathe with me, c’mon”.

He began to do breathing exercises trying to get the girl to follow him, his heart jumped in his chest when she began to follow him. They stayed like that for about fifteen minutes until she stopped crying and was able to keep her head high on her own.

Once he separated from her, an uncomfortable silence embraced them. The eldest looked at her “Eh...Do you want to talk about it?”.

The girl shook her head and he felt a little relieved "How did you know what to do?".

"I'm a father, tyttö." He raised the bottle of water he had left on the floor as if he were toasting and drank from it "I know how to do everything”.

She let out a small smile at the finn's attitude and began to play shyly with the zipper of her jacket. The blond looked at her curiously.

"Is this for Binotto?" Arabella raised her head looking at him surprised.

"How...?"

"I'm friends with some of the engineers. I heard them talk about the twitter thing and Binotto scolding you and Leclerc”.

She let out a moan taking her gaze to her shoes “Great, so everyone knows”.

"You should not care, you shouldn’t give a fuck" Before the expression the girl laughed covering her knuckles with the sleeve of her jacket and passing the fabric over her cheeks to wipe the tears that silently continued to fall. The blond looked at her from above “You know what? I thought you were tough, I guess I was wrong”.

"Excuse me?" She looked at him somewhat offended.

"I thought you wouldn't care so much about what they'll say" Kimi was trying to get a reaction from her and Arabella, unconsciously, she knew it but still couldn't help but feel his words.

"Well, sometimes you can't take it anymore" She shrugged, looking away from him.

"I know you can do it, but you can't yet" He pointed out "The first day I saw you, I knew you were going to be big, you know? I knew you were going to change things, that you were going to make history" He drank from the bottle of water as if nothing had happened while Arabella looked up to him with her mouth open, was this really happening or had she become unconscious thanks to the anxiety attack?.

She wanted to laugh, the situation literally seemed surreal to her.

"You have a champion's face, so don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Don’t mind them, do whatever you want. Win races, get on the podium and show everyone who you are. If they are going to hate you okay, but give them a reason to hate you: be the best” The finn spoke with passion and knew that it was because he had experienced hatred first hand. He had been in that world for many years, he had seen many friends suffer from the hatred of the public eye but none of them were like her. He knew it was different because she was a woman and very young. She had achieved what many men hadn’t been able to but, right now, before him she was only a scared little girl.

Maybe he wasn't aware of what he was saying to the girl, much less about how her skin had bristled or how something had "clicked" on her head thanks to his words. But he still continued “Make them get bored of seeing you win, I know you can do it but remember that after all not always people like you”

That phrase reminded her of an old friend.

A phone rang, causing him to separate his gaze from her. He looked for the device in his pockets and when he found it he looked at the screen. He raised his head to look at the girl, who was looking at a fixed point in front of her “I have to go. Will you be okay?”

At his question, she raised her head and Kimi could swear that there was something different in her gaze. She gave him a small smile of gratitude “Yes. Thank you, Mr. Räikkönen”.

"Call me Kimi, tyttö”.

And with that he turned around and left, leaving the girl alone again.

She licked his lips observing how the figure of the Alfa Romeo’s driver disappeared in the distance. She tested the salt of her tears on her lips and sighed before moving her hand down her leg, looking for her own phone. She took it out of the pocket and after unlocking it she went to the contact app, her eyes moved all over the screen in unison with her finger, looking for the right name. Once she did it, she pressed the call button.

She put the device in her ear and waited for it to sound “Hey, uhm. I miss you, do you think you can come to the next race?".

[smoshyourheadin]

Sunshine and Soda Cans

Part 2 - Bubbles

"hey, spencer!" angela jogs up to spencer as you walk into the office. you wander to the kitchen to grab a soda, and put your stuff down.

"(y/n) said shes struggling with editing the new try not to laugh episode, and i don't think she's going to ask for help because she's too stubborn, so can you just check on her and give her a hand?". spencer looks over at you, and back to angela

"yeah sure! i'll catch up with her later" angela gives him a big grin, and then walks over to you, striking up a conversation.

later on, you're sat at your desk, editing away. you've been stuck re-trimming the same clip for like twenty minutes, and you're becoming increasingly frustrated.

"hey, (y/n)!"

his voice catches your attention, making you look up, but not away from the screen.

"hi spence, uh- what's up?" you say, eyes still glued to your screen.

"oh nothing, just checking how you're getting on with the try not to laugh edit. everything going good?"

"no actually' you, look up at him and you chuckle "ive, i've been trying to edit the same clip for like ever, and it won't save properly. im losing my mind!"

he smiles at you honesty, and pulls up a chair to help you out. after about an hour, you two get a bit bored and decide to go live on the games channel, streaming some sims

"alrighty then guys, hello! welcome to the games channel, today me and spencer are going to be playing some sims 4!" you smile into the camera, adjusting your hair, and you relax into your chair.

"guys, can we hate on (y/n) in chat for drowning my sims last time" spencer says sarcastically, glaring at you sassily.

"hey!" you elbow him, playfully "you made fun of my sims' fashion choices!"

he laughs at your anger, and you talk with the chat for a little while as the game loads

"okay, my plan is to make a love triangle in my mansion. i want to see if they can handle the drama.." you say, tapping your fingertips together

"woah, okay dr. evil!" he says, laughing with you

you guys start making some characters that, suspiciously, resemble each other. as you begin to play, your sims keep chatting to eachother

"hey, (y/n), why does your sim keep flirting with mine? got a crush or something?" spencer says with a smirk

"oh, please! my sim is just being friendly! unlike yours, who keeps stealing my sim's food!!! didn't realise your name was tina.." you giggle at your own joke, napoleon dynamite is one of the first things you two bonded over, so you both have a good laugh.

you guys play for about two hours, and then decide to wrap up, finishing the stream

before getting up to leave, you guys share a lingering gaze, and you see the colours in his eyes. you give him a ride back to his apartment, and you turn of your radiohead "in rainbows' cd. weird fishes/arpeggi comes on, as you pull up infront of his apartment. you look over at him with a sweet smile.

"well, see you tomorrow spence"

"yeah. looking forward to it"

you two lock eyes, and then he gently pulls you into a sweet kiss, his hand lingering on your jaw as you melt into his touch. he tastes like mt dew, and you smile against his lips. as you break away, you already miss his lips on yours.

"see ya, (y/n)" he says with a smile and a new twinkle in his eye, exiting the car and walking into his apartment block.

you sit in your car for at least another five minutes; eyes glassy, chest heavy, and palms sweating. you pick up your phone, and open up the phone app, ringing the only person you can think of to call.

"hey jelly, do we have any icecream? i need to tell you what's just happened"

you hear angela open the freezer over the phone, and she says

"yeah, we have some vanilla and i think there's some strawberries in the fridge. everything okay?"

"yeah," you breathing staggers, fully realising what just happened "me and spencer kissed"

"I'M SORRY WHAT"

you hang up, and start driving back to your apartment.

---------------------------

a/n— hey!! thank you all so much for the love on part one omg love y’all for that ahhh 😚 my requests are open btw!! so feel free to request anything, not just smosh stuff!! i’ll write for anything (even if im not in the fandom 😚)! okay yeah hope you all enjoy pt2!! love y'all 💛

[raelle-writing]

Was it even Jin's video that got posted???

I've been staring and trying to make sense of the angles in Keng's office for the past hour so I decided to do a write up and see if I can make sense of it... something is WEIRD.

WARNING: this post contains screenshots of SA, all those will be below the cut:

So when we as the audience are shown the shots of Keng and Non, we're shown two different angles. The first one, when Jin first opens the door, is of Keng and Non's legs. The second is of their heads/faces.

In earlier episodes we're shown a bit more of the layout of Keng's office, shown here:

But the angles just... don't make sense? When you analyze them. Like for example, here's what we see in episode 6 when Non comes to see Keng. The angle shown is of Non leaning decently far into the room, and then still only being able to see Keng above the barrier

When the video is uploaded to social media, we see this as the thumbnail, which appears to be shot at a low angle BETWEEN the two barriers. But that angle doesn't make sense when shot from the door.

You can see it in this shot of Jin recording, it looks like the extruding corner is in the way of whatever he's shooting.

Not to mention, in the shot of Non showing up to that office, the book shelf is pretty obtrusive of the view of what's happening. It seems like, in order for the shot of their heads to be what's shown in the thumbnail, the person would've had to be further into the room

Add on to that, the couch itself is way too small for someone to be able to see around the barrier one way AND the other way. So basically it was impossible for someone at Jin's angle to see BOTH the legs around one end of the barrier AND the heads around the other.

With the corners, the bookshelf, and the angle in mind, it seems to me that the only angle it makes sense for Jin to have seen and recorded without going further into the room is that of the legs, not their faces...

Especially since he records low, but the thumbnail picture is basically the same height as the couch... which to me, looks lower than where Jin is holding the camera

Conclusion: ????

Honestly I'm not sure. Maybe this was just BOC getting clever with their angles and shooting and they didn't think people would dissect the layout of the room this hard. I AM sure that Jin could only reasonably see the legs or the faces and not both.

And as I said above, the angle of the door and bookshelf and barriers lead me to believe that Jin could've only really seen their legs But then that brings up the question of how did Jin even know it was Non? He's angry enough that it seems like he did... unless he's angry in a completely different direction and is mad that a teacher is taking advantage of a student, but that doesn't seem to fit either, since the anger on his face seems personal...

Plus I want to bring this back. Top saw Keng and Non together and texted Tee that he knew where Non got the money. They could've guessed or spied on them to guess what Keng asked for in exchange. And who has the money to set up a hidden camera JUST to screw over Non? Por. I'm not saying that's definitely what happened, but Por HATES Non and wanted to get rid of him. I don't doubt Por/Top/Tee would hesitate to release that tape of Non if they got the opportunity...

I'm definitely grasping at straws, but something about this whole situation doesn't feel right. Jin isn't shown to post the video himself, in fast there's discrepancies from what's shown on his computer screen vs what's shown of the person uploading the video.

Changing a computer from light mode to dark mode is incredibly easy so I don't know why they would've left a mistake like that instead of fixing it in post-production. Plus it looks to me like Jin is looking at the already-posted video and crying over it, not that he's posting it himself (first screenshot is from the BTS for this episode btw).

I've been on the "Jin didn't post the video" train the entire time for a couple of reasons:

Jin isn't shown to click the button, only sit at his laptop, cry, and then eventually spill alcohol on it and short it out. If the writers wanted us to hate Jin then they would've just shown him posting it so that we could deal with the fact that he's a shit person. They didn't do that, so I don't think that Jin posted the video.

Because in episode 4, Flukes yells at Tee that he knows what they did, and he names both the broken camera AND the released video... but Jin wasn't present in this scene. Why yell it at Tee if Jin is the one who both took the video and posted it?

But with the question of all the angles shown and the doorway and bookshelf it makes me wonder... was the video even Jin's?

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Gray 29

First / Previous / Next

Fen and Zhe went back up to the command deck to watch the approach. Northern placed the view out of some forward cameras on the screen and what struck Fen the first time she saw it was just how ramshackle the station was. It appeared to be made out of more than a dozen old starship hulls.

"Is that.. made out of junk starships?"

"It appears that way Fen, but I'm not sure if they're junk or not. I can see a lot of reactors when I scan for emissions. It could be that they're just all connected together and can break apart when threatened." Northern sounded fascinated. "It's a good idea, really. If you're worried about some administrative forces kicking you out, you just break up your station and link away to somewhere else. Fen, Zhe? This is going to be a while. I was just told we have to wait for a place for us to park. Why don't you two go get some rest. I'll wake you if anything comes up."

Back in her room, Fen lays on the bed. It's large and cold and smells unfamiliar. The sheets are wrong, the light in the room is wrong, the mattress is wrong, the whole place feels wrong. She had been doing well enough until she talked to Zhe about Ma-ren and she feels alone in the bed all over again. Tossing and turning, Fen struggles to sleep. Finally sleep comes.

Fen dreams.

She's sitting on a large, seat, a throne really at the top of what could only be described as an... arena. Every single seat is filled with people who are there to see her. She can feel their excitement radiate off. They aren't coerced, they aren't forced, they are all there willingly.

To see her.

Or are they?

She holds out her hand for silence, only it's not her hand. The skin tone is wrong, lighter. She spreads her arms wide to welcome the crowd, but the length feels wrong. Glancing down quickly, she sees that she's shorter than she expected, even with the high heels. High heels? Fen hates wearing heels; they're so wobbly. Her body isn't quite right either, she feels top heavy. The crowd is so far away, that they haven't noticed anything yet, but the people next to her have. One of them, a women, about her size with a kind face looks over, her brow furrowed in concern. Fen feels an overwhelming desire to comfort her, let her know everything is all right, even though it clearly isn't. "I'm fine." she whispers out of the corner of her mouth. "Just jitters or something."

The other women nods very slightly and turns back to the crowd, not convinced, but unwilling to disturb the ceremony.

"People of the Reach! I come before you to tell you of news. Our battles go well, and we have captured the inner planets! Venus, Luna and the LEO principalities have all agreed to a peace plan." Cheers and shouts of praise. She basks in their love, buoyed by their positivity. "I myself will be departing for the attack on Earth. I will personally lead the charge. Soon, I shall return to you with the exciting news of our victory!" More cheering. "Until then, I ask for your patience and understanding, and I ask for more volunteers. We have three more Super Dreadnoughts that have been completed, and they need crews. Please, come to the recruitment office and sign up. Everyone who crews my ships will be eligible for relocation to any planet, station, starbase, and orbital of their choosing after our victory."

She stands during the cheering and applause at this last announcement, and concentrates. Her wings, made of gossamer, focused, golden light spread meters wide. Her crown, made of the same light flares in the arena, visible to everyone. Through the cheering and chanting of her name, she turns, leaves the dias and her wings and crown fade into an afterimage on everyone's eyes.

Behind the dias, a hidden door opens, and she ducks through, with the two people - including the woman from before - on either side.

"Now that we're out of the crowd, what was that? You looked like you were going to throw up." She sounds worried.

"Yeah, I saw you wobble. You looked down at your shoes and blanched." The other one, a middle aged man chimes in. He is tall and handsome, with dark brown skin and a coal black beard, flecked with gray.

"I'm fine, I'm... fine." She sounds unsure even as she says it. "I just had a strange feeling of being not myself. It's passed now. She turned towards the woman. Do you have the report of the developments on Luna?"

"Yes, Empress. Luna is pacified. Your military has cleared you for a visit to the people as soon as you enter the system. They recommend that you show up, give a speech, do a quick meet-and-greet with the citizens, and then continue on to Earth. Myself, Omar and a small guard will accompany you."

"Thank you Ava. I need a coffee, and then we can depart."

Fen awoke with a start, dripping with sweat. She was laying in bed, all of her sheets and blankets a tangle. There was a soft chime that was repeating in the room. "Yes?"

"We're going to dock in a couple hours Fen. I figured you would want to shower and change."

"Thanks Northern. How long has it been?"

"About nine hours. I let you sleep a full cycle; you seemed like you needed it."

Fen sits up. "Okay Northern. I'll be up in a few."

Fen gets up and pads to the bathroom. Being the captain, she does have a larger suite than average, and it has its own bathroom. As the door behind her shuts, she does not notice the sheets and blankets are covered in a very slight layer of dust, arranged like wings, centering on where she slept.

****

The docking goes without a hitch. They are brought inside the cargo module of a massive starship on the outer edge of the 'station' and are directed to a pad near the door. They land, and as the ship powers down, Northern walks into the command deck, shaking her hair with her hands and making a face. "My mouth tastes like pennies. I hate this." She puts her hands on her hips and faces Fen. "You're going to find us enough crew - or another AI - to do this, right?"

"Yes Northern. We'll find a crew. I can't thank you enough for this, I realize that its... distasteful for you."

Northern smirks. "I see what you did there. I'll have you know that puns always work on me." She nods at Zhe. "Come on. Shall we go meet your family?"

Zhe nods and stands, but her ears are flat, and she's trying to shrink down into her clothes. "O-okay Northern, Fen. Let's go."

"Hold up a moment." Fen turns to Zhe. "Are you going to be all right with this?"

Zhe stands just a little straighter. "Yes, I'll be all right Fen. You're my captain now. It's just that my family was... disappointed when I got the job with the Discoverers and went to Minaren."

"They're disappointed you went straight?" Northern's incredulity is plain on her face.

Zhe's tail swishes and she nods. "You'll see when you meet them."

The dock's air is cold and thin, but breathable. The three of them exit the ship and head towards the airlock at the other end. They walk past scores of K'laxi and other peoples tending the ships that are docked. There are easily more than a dozen in this dock alone. Fen recognizes K'laxi, Gren, and even some Sefigan designs. They step into the airlock and it closes behind them. "So, you three are the ones ballsy enough to come here in a Imperial Frigate and sing the bawdiest K'laxi drinking song known in order to get in?" The voice is low and gruff. "We've scanned your ship, it's empty, so we know you're not hiding anyone, and you don't walk like spies, though you have the air of a Discoverer about you, K'laxi." The voice pauses a moment. "Still, we'll let you in. Stay nice and don't cause trouble."

The other airlock door opens, and the air is hot and wet. The K'laxi homeworld is smaller and colder than Earth, so Fen expected the atmosphere settings to be similar here but if there was such a thing as an opposite to K'laxi weather, this was it. The lights were dark and yellow and the gravity was light. Fen kept feeling like she was about to trip. A short K'laxi, grey around the muzzle, with a human sized battle rifle on his back waves and bounds - literally bounds - over. "Welcome! Welcome to The Heap."

Northern grins. "The Heap because it's a heap of starships?"

He nods quickly, the earrings on his large ears jangling slowly in the low gravity. "Exactly so. What are you here for? Trade? Business? Or just to lie low from the Imps since you clearly stole their frigate?"

Fen crosses her arms and harrumphs. "I'll have you know I own that frigate free and clear. You can scan it anywhere and it'll show up under my name."

He winks - a decidedly human gesture. "Sure it does, Friend. I know hackers too. So? What's up?"

Zhe sighs. "Hi there Uncle Rev. Is Hemmi here?"

Rev leans around Northern and gasps. "Little Zhe! You came back! You finally realized that the government yolk was strangling your ability to pull for yourself!" He grabbed her and hugged her mightily and spun her around. "Hemmi isn't here now, but he's in-system. I'll get a beacon out to him right away. He'll want to know the news. Why didn't you tell us you were aboard? He would have stayed for the welcome."

"I didn't want to be a burden..." Zhe begins.

"Nonsense! I will not hear of it." Rev looks over at Northern and Fen. "Shacking up with two humans? My my! You're doing all right for yourself. I knew you couldn't keep your true self down."

"Uncle Rev!" Zhe's fur ripples as she blushes. "Northern and Fen are friends only. Fen is my captain."

"Well then I need to extend our thanks," Rev bends low and Fen sees that his tail is half gone. "Have you had a chance to witness Zhe in combat yet? She is unparalleled with a Gren soar-kinfe." He puts his arm around Northern and Fen and gives them a small squeeze and Northern glares. "Did you know she once took out three Sefigan warriors who thought they could bounce out of here without paying? Three! She was barely sixteen at the time. Her parents were so proud. They let her keep the entire bounty. I think that's how she paid her passage to Minaren."

Northern turns her head slowly to Zhe as her fur won't stop rippling. "A soar-knife? They're hard to use even in light gravity. in Human standard they take years of practice to wield safely."

"Well when you're a kid on a pirate station you get bored and pick stuff up." Zhe mumbles.

"So modest!" Rev squeezes their hips again and Northern smacks his arm off. "Come on! Let's go eat while we wait for Hemmi to come back.

[patdkoala]

The Golden Globes

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x female reader Summary: Sebastian Stan and the reader are close friends and one night when he goes to the Golden Globes he gets worked up being there without her. Only one thing can make him feel better. Warnings: Friends to lovers, hair pulling, unprotected p in v, The Pullout Method™

"I'm exhausted," Sebastian said as he did his curl-ups with Don. "Because of the workout or?" Don's eyes trailed over to (Y/N) who was doing squats with her trainer a few feet away from Sebastian.

"No, (Y/N)'s just a friend, man. I don't know why everyone thinks we are together," Sebastian said as Don rolled his eyes.

(Y/N) and Sebastian has been friends forever and is always cast in movies together.

They have played siblings, friends, a married couple, a friends-with-benefits couple, an enemies-to-lovers couple, and any other couple you could think of in any trope.

Yet, they have remained friends. Nothing has ever even made them question their friendship.

Not even (Y/N) in tight yoga pants doing intense workouts in front of Sebastian.

"If you don't make a move on her someone else will," Don said as Sebastian stopped his workout. "I don't think that's what (Y/N) and I are tho. She's a friend and I'd hate to have something compromise that," Sebastian said as he saw (Y/N) and her trainer have a conversation.

"He is so cute. I just don't understand why you haven't gone out with him yet," (Y/N)'s trainer said as (Y/N) dried herself off with a towel and glanced over to Sebastian.

He was doing curl-ups and looked so good. His toned chest expanded while his arms flexed and caused a certain sensation in between (Y/N)'s legs. She quickly looked away.

"Sebastian is just a friend. I wouldn't want to ruin what we have by doing something so foolish like having sex," (Y/N) said as her trainer rolled her eyes.

"If you don't make a move soon then another girl is just going to swoop right in."

Later that day, Sebastian was getting ready for Golden Globes because he was up for an award with the show Pam and Tommy. (Y/N) was so proud of him but she wasn't going with him because they had discussed previously that being seen together all the time isn't good for either of their reputations.

"Are you sure you'll be okay just here by yourself?" Sebastian asked as he slipped on his suit jacket. (Y/N) was seated on their couch.

They are roommates. ohmygod they were roommates. (Y/N) moved in with Sebastian after her last boyfriend and she broke up. He was a creep and cheated on her. She was living with him at the time so Sebastian offered his couch which soon turned into her moving into his office which became her room.

"Yes, I'll be okay. I'm gonna watch a movie and then go to bed early since I have nothing better to do," she smiled as Sebastian smiled back, and then he grabbed his keys and left.

(Y/N) did not watch a movie or go to bed early. Instead, she stayed up and watched the Golden Globes.

Sebastian walked the red carpet and many photographers took his picture while screaming at him. "Sebastian! Where is (Y/N) tonight?" Someone yelled at him.

He ignored the people's cries and just continued smiling and walking the rest of the carpet.

(Y/N) was at home and was watching this woman interview celebrities. She was really good at her job but (Y/N) only cared to see Sebastian get interviewed.

I mean, that's what good best friends get excited about right?

"Sebastian Stan is here tonight looking so handsome in his suit from Lanvin," The woman spoke as Sebastian smiled and looked at the camera as it panned over his suit.

"Who have you brought as your date tonight?"

"No one. I am flying solo tonight," Sebastian said as (Y/N) sat there and scooped spoonfuls of ice cream into her mouth and smiled at how nice Sebastian looked.

"No (Y/N) tonight? Maybe you'll be going home with someone new after the show," She said as Sebastian sort of rolled his eyes.

The interview ended shortly after that and Sebastian seemed unpleased with how it went. He went home empty-handed in more ways than one.

"Hey, you're home early. I'm sorry about what happened. I sat up and watched the whole thing," (Y/N) said as Sebastian walked through the door and kicked off his designer shoes, and threw off the designer jacket.

"I just hate how they talk about you like you're just some new fuck buddy of mine. It's not fair to either of us," Sebastian said as he slumped down on the couch next to her.

"I wasn't talking about the interview. I was talking about the awards but yeah, let's make this about me," she said as he smiled at her and she lifted her legs and rested them on his lap and then moved the blanket that was just covering her to cover the both of them.

"Why can't everyone be as nice to me as you are?" Sebastian asked as she ran a hand through his hair. "Because not everyone is your best friend."

"Right, friends," he said softly. "What, is there a problem with me being your friend now?" She asked as he turned his head and he rested both arms on her legs.

"I just wish we were more sometimes," He said as she turned a bright shade of pink. "Sebastian you're drunk." "I didn't have a single drink tonight. I didn't make it to the after party and I wanted to stay sober so that I could make it home to you and do this," He said as he leaned over and planted a kiss on her lips.

She held the back of his head gently as he moaned into her mouth. She still had her legs resting upon his lap as he let his hands move to her face.

He cupped her cheeks and then he let his hands go all on their own in her hair. They tangled in at the roots and tugged slightly as she went to his shirt and started to undo the buttons.

"I need you," Sebastian moaned as (Y/N) took her shift off and threw it across the room. "Then take me," She replied as he smirked and he started to undo his belt buckle.

She stood up and removed her pants and underwear and then once he had his belt undone he removed his pants and he lowered his boxers just enough to spring out.

She smiled at him and for a minute they locked eyes and he cupped his hands on her face again. "I have been waiting for this for so long with you. I love you so much, (Y/N) and I never want anyone to ever hurt you ever again," He said as she smiled and then sat down on his cock while kissing him.

They both moaned in pleasure at the first initial feeling. Which then turned into him moaning and her screaming in pleasure. Their bodies rocked back and forth and up and down.

Sebastian flipped them so that he was on top. "Sebastian, please don't stop. You feel so good," She cried as he trusted faster and harder. "Tell me where you want me," He moaned out in broken words as he trusted as she held onto the side of the couch, clenching her insides which helped him indicate that she was close.

"Anywhere," She moaned as he nodded and then thrusted two final times before she came on his dick and he pulled out and came on her stomach.

He laid down next to her on the couch after he cleaned her up with his shirt. (Such a gentleman)

He held her close to his chest as they then dozed off into sleep.

"I'm not going anywhere without you ever again," He said as she laughed and kissed him.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

If You Can't Dance 3

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, other possible triggers. Proceed with caution.

Note: this is what you get when you encourage me. Please leave any and all feedback! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Part of The Club AU

You login for the day with your usual set up. A mug of peppermint tea, your favourite sweater, and your gaming chair set to the most ergonomic setting. You connect to the company's shared server and go through the verification. It's tedious but necessary. You're certain there will be many tedious tasks to come as the merger looms heavy over the newly absorbed startup.

As your Teams pops up, you scroll through your tasks and prepare to start your usual squinting hunch at the screen. You grab your glasses and put them on. You really need to start wearing those.

Bing! You have a message. Oh, jeez, it's Jensen. Your manager, at least for the time being. You don't know what his new job will be in the unified structure. So many questions but you're more concerned with the backend.

'Morning, how's it going?'

He's casual and approachable. At least, from what you can tell over virtual text and the occasional video call. He checks in now and then so you assume this is just the same.

'Alright. Getting started for the day.'

The three dots pop up then disappear, then a new message appears.

'Did you enjoy last night? Didn't get to say hi, you looked like you had fun tho.'

'Oh. I guess.'

'It was nice to see everyone. Anyway, business. Meeting at nine for coders. Invite coming.'

You stare at the screen. Great. You hate team meetings. You always have to give and update but you don't have much to say. You do your work and it's right there for them to see. Why do you need to explain it?

'Got it.'

You send your response and ignore his reaction; a thumbs up. You put a timer on, knowing better than to trust yourself. You go back to your usual, trying to settle in with your minty brew. Last night has put everything off-balance.

Slightly agitated by the spontaneity of the event, you join the Teams meeting and try not to look at yourself among the five rectangles on the screen. Jensen's glasses glare in the camera and you take your own off, hoping to escape behind the blur of your vision. G is there too, the only other coder you've worked with in the company. He's a strange guy, quiet, and no one knows his full name. The other two, Marc and Dharshi round out the group. All of you sit silent, waiting.

"Oh, uh," Jensen unmutes as he seems to remember he's on a call, "alright, guys, I'll try to keep this short. There's a lot to do but I really didn't think that this message should come through an email."

You check your mug, cold and empty. You have a bad feeling about whatever message he's referring to.

"So, I know we've been doing work from home for a while, but, uh, with the new company, we're being asked to consider a more hybrid model. No decision has been made yet but next week, you are all required to report to the new headquarters so that we can meet our new coworkers."

"What?" Dharshi exclaims as Marc scowls. G just stares blankly, you think, it's hard to make out clearly. You probably look just as dull.

"I know, I know, I'm trying to get us down to only a couple days a week in office," Jensen explains, "right now, there's no decision made but we do have to try. There's a different culture with Blue Forest but I think we'll be okay."

G hangs up and Jensen sputters. Dharshi and Marc let out odd noises and you just sit there.

"Oh, must be a bad connection," Jensen laughs nervously, "so... uh, I'll follow-up with G and see you all Monday."

No response. Jensen fills the void with his usual managerial spiel; let me know if you need anything, yada yada. The call ends and you're left deflating in fractured safehold of your home office. Maybe you will all be too awkward and they'll just decide to keep you hidden away. You can only hope.

Oh and don't forget, you still have to go get your car after work.

🐞

Monday comes too fast, your weekend fading into a marathon of Fortnight and nature documentaries. You pull out your most acceptable outfit. Another long skirt and a turtle neck with oxford boots. Hmm, it's more Anne Shirley than business casual.

You drive into the heart of the city, the GPS guiding you to the modern office building with its transparent walls and sleek black structure. You grab your laptop bag, a messenger with butterfly patches sewn onto it. At the door, you're stopped and let in after verifying your Employee ID. You're told to go to the front desk to get your new credentials.

After you get sorted, you're sent down the hall to a conference room. You pass several offices and people you don't know. Your new coworkers. You grip the strap of your bag as a woman pops out of Room 1161B, the very one you were told to go to. You stop short as she smiles at you, her frilly blouse tucked into a sleek white skirt.

"Oh, you must be a new one, I'm Catarina," she offers her hand and you just stare at it. "You'll be in here for the Tech Orientation. There's tea and coffee, some pastries, and full catering will be available at lunch."

"Thanks," you mutter and peek into the empty room.

"You're so early," she praises, "sorry, I didn't catch your name. I need to check you off the list."

You enunciate the syllables clearly so you won't have to repeat yourself then turn into the room. You look around at the tables. Not the traditional long intimidating tabletop but several throughout the space. You don't know where to sit, if you should choose a particular seat, so you go to the waiting urns by the far wall.

You peruse the collection of tea bags. Chamomile, green, Earl Gray...

"Ah, pardon, could I trouble you for English Breakfast if they have it?" A voice nears before the footsteps reach you. The shadow stops beside you, the voice frighteningly familiar. You grab a bag of the English Breakfast and hold it out without looking over. It can't be, what are the odds? "Oh..." he says your name. The accent, the recognition, he knows you and you vaguely know him. Jonathan.

"You work here?" You wonder as you continue to shuffle through the packets.

"Yes, and I assume... you do too. Now. You are among the newly acquired?"

You nod and put down the box of teas.

"Is there something wrong? You don't like the selection?"

"No peppermint," you shrug.

You sidle along and grab a paper cup, instead pressing the spout for the large jug of cold water. The man fills his cup with hot water before tugging on the string of the tea bag, steeping it as he nears you again.

"It's rather a coincidence," he preens, "are you excited to start?"

You know you shouldn't be honest so you do your best to lie, "yeah."

"You certainly sound it," he laughs, "well, please, have a dessert... and a seat. We'll be all out before you know it."

"Thanks," you surpass the plate of tarts and croissants. You sit at the table nearest the corner and stare at the cup of clear water. You should've known to bring your own tea.

[inneedofsupervision]

I didn't ask, did I? (Chapter 9)

Happy begrudgingly steps aside and walks after Tony into the diner. The billionaire skillfully ignores the gasps of surprise and the poor attempt to take pictures of him secretly as he strides straight up to the counter. "Two cheeseburgers and a large fry. To go." "Please get in line and wait for your turn, Sir." "Excuse me?" Tony slowly pulls his sunglasses down and glances at the skinny teen behind the register. "Bad hearing comes with age, huh?" mutters the teen under his breath. Happy makes a choking sound behind him. ___________________ Or, how Tony Stark gets sassed by some high schooler working part-time and makes it his mission to figure out what he did to make this kid he'd never seen hate him. If that means annoying the hell out of said high schooler, that's not his problem.

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10

Chapter Summary: Clint gets sent to the animal shelter to see if he can gather some information for Tony.

(Read on Ao3)

A ringing accompanies Clint as he enters the Forest Hills Adoption Center. 

“I'm here, Tony. How's the sound?”

“Flawless. As you'd expect from my technology. Before you ask, the camera is also working as it should be. The finest image you can get.”

Clint fingers his hearing aid, tempted to turn the man off. Before he gets to it, a brunette woman rises from behind the reception desk.

“You must be Mr. Smith," she welcomes him with a smile.

“That's me,” Clint replies with a smile that mirrors the woman's. He holds out his hand to her. “Pleased to meet you, Miss?”

“Oh, you can call me Diana. Mr. Smith, we appreciate your interest in adopting one of our dogs. During our phone call, you didn't give much information about what you were looking for. If you'll join me in the office, we can discuss your ideas and see which dog will be the best fit for your home."

Clint follows the woman who had introduced herself as Diana. The latter holds the door to the hallway open for him, and he smoothly slips past her. As the door opens, there is a chorus of yapping and whining that the archer would have heard loud and clear even without his hearing aid.

As if anticipated, Diana turns toward him with a gentle smile. “Please, don't be put off, by the noise and the energy. These dogs have all been waiting a long time for a new home. Every new visit causes their excitement to grow, but this does not mean they will be like this when you take them home."

“I understand. These are special circumstances.”

Diana laughs but lacks mirth.

“Special circumstances, I guess you could say that.”

Clint flinches slightly as the clatter of a coffee mug thunders in his right ear. “Good God, what a volume. Now I know why Pepper doesn't want dogs.”

“Tony. Shut up.”

Clint has turned away from Diana and is about to cut the connection or put the man on silent.

“Mr. Smith, are you all right?”

Clint looks over his shoulder. Diana is standing in the hallway with her clipboard in her hand.

“Yes, excuse me. I need to blow my nose.”

To make his excuse believable, Clint pulls a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and turns away from the woman.

“I cannot concentrate with the nonstop commentary in the back, Tony. You want something from me, then let me do my job in peace,” the blond man hisses into his tissue.

“All right. No need to get mad.”

“Last warning or I'll mute you.”

“Aye aye, Katniss. I'll keep quiet.”

Satisfied with the answer, Clint turns back to Diana. 

“Thanks for waiting.”

“No problem. You don't happen to have an animal hair allergy, do you?”

“No, it's just the last bit of a stubborn cold my kids brought home from school.”

Diana's face lights up, and Clint knows he has said the right thing.

“Oh, you have children?”

“Yes, three of them.”

Clint keeps up the small talk on the way to the office. His hands were buried in his pockets, and his eyes roamed over the kennels and the dogs inside. 

Tony's plan was vague. 

The question is whether you could even call it a plan. 

“Tell me, do you have volunteers working here?”

Diana stops, and Clint catches up. 

“Yes, we have a few, and we are more than grateful for them. Our volunteers help us walk the dogs, or they take them out to play.”

“Can everyone do that?”

“We need all the help we can get, but we thoroughly check everyone who wants to work here. Some dogs have had a difficult life and need special attention and someone to care for them who has a good understanding of dogs.”

Once in the office, Diana offers Clint a coffee. Half an hour later, the shelter director holds the door open for Clint again.

“Come on, I'll show you all our dogs, and then, we'll see if we have one that suits your family.”

After just a few minutes of looking around the facility, Clint realizes the shelter is full. When he shares this thought with Diana, she nods.

“That's true. We mainly keep our heads above water with donations, so there's not much money left for advertising. At the moment, the trend towards pedigree dogs is on the rise again. Many people are getting dogs from breeders, meaning that the dogs in the shelters are considered a second choice or not even considered at all.”

While Diana is still speaking, the spy notices a movement. Two kennels away, something red moves behind the fence. Diana continues to talk as she walks ahead, but Clint's attention is drawn towards the kennel they are approaching. 

Clint glances inconspicuously into the kennel. 

Tony was right.

There he is.

Peter Parker.

Clint frowns. From everything he had heard from Tony and Rhode's stories, what he saw sitting in the kennel was not what he expected from the infamous pain-in-the-ass teen. 

The boy looks miserable.

Peter Parker is sitting on a thin blanket, which couldn't offer much protection from the cold or the hardness of the concrete floor beneath him. He has pulled the hood of his sweater over his head, but it's not enough to hide a pale face with a few impressive dark circles under his eyes. The boy's gaze is fixed on his lap, or rather on the head that is resting there.

Clint's eyebrows move upwards. The dog the boy is in the kennel with is of a stately size. The brown head with the black ears and black muzzle almost takes up the boy's entire lap, but Peter doesn't seem intimidated by the dog. 

With almost mechanical movements, Peter strokes the animal's head down to its neck and over its back. The dog has its eyes closed and is lying beside the teenager, deeply relaxed, its enormous chest sinking in deep rhythmic movements. 

It would have been too endearing a sight if two things had not ruined the wholesome picture. Firstly, there were Peter's eyes. At first glance, the blank stare might suggest, that the kid was lost in his thoughts, but Clint knew that wasn't the case. Peter's eyes hadn't drifted off, and his thoughts weren't traveling either. 

Clint knew that look all too well. 

He'd seen it countless times before.

Peter Parker is grieving.

The man watches as Peter's hand never stops stroking the dog. The teen runs his fingers gently over the caramel-colored fur until stopping before touching the white bandage wrapped around the dog. 

A hand on his arm draws Clint's attention back to Diana. The older lady glances at the teenager before looking Clint in the eye and signaling to follow her. 

They turn a corner and enter another corridor. 

“That was Peter, one of our volunteers. He walks some of our dogs.”

Clint nods before turning to Diana. 

“The dog in the kennel didn't look like he could walk.”

The dog's hind legs had been bandaged up to the hip, and from what Clint had observed, Peter avoided touching them as if he feared his fingers would burst into flames on contact.

When Diana's face contorted into a painful expression, Clint knew he had hit a sore spot.

“That is Lucy, one of our newcomers. A lovely dog. She loves people and would spend the whole day cuddling if she could.”

“But,” Clint interjects. 

The woman puts on a pained smile.

“Was it that obvious?”

“Pretty much,” Clint says with a grin, attempting to lighten the mood. 

The principal looks down at her clipboard. “You're right. Lucy cannot walk. She was involved in an accident, which is one of the reasons she ended up with us."

“Her owner can no longer look after her?” 

“He died in the accident. Lucy broke both her hip bones. She survived the worst of it, but she needs new hip joints to be able to walk correctly. She is being treated, but, at the moment, she can only stand or sit for a short time."

Diana wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. 

“Sorry, I'm being unprofessional. It's just that she's a wonderful dog, Mr. Smith. We're not a big shelter, and new hip joints and the follow-up treatment costs more than we can afford.”

“And what if she gets adopted?”

After regaining her composure, Diana put on her glasses, and her slightly reddened eyes met Clint's. 

“Not many people take in sick or injured animals, Mr. Smith.  Not to mention the cost of surgery, Lucy is already eight. She is a  mongrel. There is no clear breed identification. She's over 27,5 inches tall and weighs around 110 pounds. Furthermore, she previously belonged to a homeless person. No matter how lovely this dog may be, all these criteria make it more than difficult to place her. If we don't find someone to take Lucy in soon, we will be forced to put her to sleep.”

“That's why the teen we saw is so depressed, isn't he? He knows Lucy doesn't have much time left.”

Without saying a word, Diana beckons Clint to follow her. She takes the man outside and sits down on a bench. Clint sits down next to her and looks at her expectantly. Even without hearing Tony, he knew that the man's interest must have been piqued by now at the latest.

Diana plays with the pen attached to the board before looking up. 

“You're here to adopt a dog. I'm stealing your time.”

“No, not at all. I'd like to know more about Lucy,” the archer asserts. 

The directors give him a skeptical look, but Clint nods with the most sincere expression he can muster. 

“I must confess,” the woman begins slowly, ”I suspect that Peter knew Lucy before she came to us.”

Clint furrows his eyebrows. He hadn't expected that. His face must have spoken for itself because Diana giggles as she looks at him before becoming serious again.

“I know it sounds crazy, but you have to know, I've been working with animals since I was twenty, and I know what a dog looks like when it meets someone again. They remember you. They don't simply forget people. Every time, I ask Peter about it, he almost vehemently denies it, but Lucy knows him. Besides, his behavior is conspicuous.”

“Conspicuous?” asks Clint, noticing Diana's smirk as she talks about the boy.

“Yes, conspicuous," Diana repeats. 

"Peter claims to have had nothing to do with Lucy, but he makes time for her every time he visits. He's here to walk the dogs and thus has nothing to do with Lucy as she can't go outside, but for some reason, this boy finds her and decides to devote half an hour of his day to a dog he doesn't know."

“Maybe he loves animals and has taken linking to her?”

“I suspected that at first, but the more you think about it, the crazier the coincidences become. You have to know, Lucy was brought to us in mid-August, and less than two days later, this boy from Queens contacted us and wants to volunteer for our shelter.”

Diana turns and looks directly at Clint. 

“And you know, what is the most absurd part? Peter actually claims he will pay for Lucy's operation. I told him he could forget it, but he talked about it several more times until I told him I didn't want to hear more about it. That's as far as it goes, minors sending us money.”

“That's an impressive string of coincidences.”

Diana laughs. “You can say that again. Do you get why I doubt Peter's denial of knowing Lucy?”

“It certainly raises questions,” Clint confirms with a smile.

“Definitely. Who knows, maybe Lucy saved Peter's life too?”

At Clint's questioning look, the directors explain what she means.

“You must know, Lucy and her owner are real heroes."

“Heroes?” echoes Clint with growing interest.

“Exactly. They all deserve more appreciation for saving that baby, but who cares about a homeless man and his dog saving a life? Without Spider-Man, it probably wouldn't even make it into the news."

Spider-Man? The whole thing just got more and more intriguing.

 Clint leans forward with interest.

“You have to tell me this story. Does Lucy and Spider-Man have a history together? You can't leave me hanging now without an explanation.”

“It's a good thing you're the last appointment for today, otherwise, we'd have a problem with the schedule,” jokes Diana with a laugh, enjoying her client's enthusiasm.

“All right, then. Earlier this summer, there was an incident near Central Park. A young mother's stroller brake broke, but she noticed it too late. The stroller rolled towards the intersection. Lucy and her owner were there, and Lucy ran after the baby, barking like crazy. Her owner ran after her and into the crossroads. It was around noon, and you can imagine the traffic. Lucy's owner got hold of the stroller and was about to pull it off the road when an ambulance on duty pulled up. There would have been a terrible collision if Spider-Man hadn't appeared out of nowhere. He intercepted the ambulance at full speed with his bare hands."

“Sounds like a meeting of heroes.”

Diana laughs, and her smile reaches up to her eyes.

“You could call it that. Isn't it ironic? Lucy and her owner were saved by a hero who, compared to the Avengers, gets as much credit as a homeless man and a dog saving a baby.”

“Not exactly fair, is it?” agrees Clint. 

“Well. There's nothing we can do about it.”

“Who knows? Maybe we can find a way to do something?”

Diana shakes her head but tries not to correct Clint, but the doubt is written all over her face. She overplays it by clapping her hands down her thighs before standing up.

“What are you saying, Mr. Smith. Are we ready to look at your dream dog?”

Clint gets up from the bench. He holds out his hand to the director.

“Let's find a dog that deserves a new home.”