#''Yeah I mean it’s not like anybody really pays attention to you. Except for me'' 🕷️ Michelle Jones(MJ)

[specialagentlokitty]

Mr Evershed x teen!reader - we all struggle

can I request Mr Evershed X teen!reader with prompt 31 and 61 from the 2024 list? Thank you - Anon💜

31: “Why is it every time I come here you seem to be here too?” “I study here.” “In detention?”

61: “Stop throwing things!” “No!”

Looking at the text book in front of you, you idly flipped to the next page, not really paying much attention to whatever was it in, just pretending so you looked busy. 

You didn’t want to get stuck with whatever it was they had the other detention students doing, that didn’t interest you at all.

Hearing the door open and closed, you quickly picked up your pen, writing down the title of the chapter.

“I didn’t think there was anybody else in here.”

“There isn’t, they’ve all gone to go help with something.”

Mr Evershed hummed a little, dragging a chair over to your desk and he sat down in front of you, setting his bag on the ground.

“Can I ask you something (Y/N)?”

“You just did.”

He chuckled a little and you looked up at him, grinning a little as you turned your attention back to the book.

“Why is it every time I come here you seem to be here too?” He asked.

You shrugged slightly, not looking up from the fake notes you were taking, you didn’t even know if they were right.

“I study here.”

Mr Evershed took the pen from you, making you look at him.

“In detention?”

“What can I say sir, it’s quiet.”

“And this has nothing to do with detention?”

“Nope.”

He took your notes and turned the textbook towards him so he could have a look at what you were doing.

Even at a quick glance he could tell that you were only pretending to be taking notes, so he set the paper down and flicked back a few pages, starting some new notes for you.

“I heard that you have been having issues with your grades and attendance.”

“Nobody’s business but mine.”

“And mine, I’ve been asked to speak to you about it. Would you like to tell me why?”

You shook your head, looking at the sheet of paper as he passed it back to you.

“Nah.”

“You���re going to have to eventually kiddo, you can’t keep going down the road you’re going down.”

You scoffed.

“Look, it’s my education, my life right? Not yours, which means you don’t get a say in this.”

“Except when it comes to one of my students I do get a say, and my say is that I’m genuinely concerned (Y/N).”

“Maybe a few more detentions will help straighten things out.”

He closed the text book, and picked up your bag from under the desk to pass to you before grabbing his own bag and standing up.

“I don’t think so, come on, let’s take a walk. How does that sound?”

“This gonna lead into me helping with whatever crap the others are being forced to help with?”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“No, no it’s not, now come on, and stop swearing how many times do we have to tell you?”

You blew raspberries at him, and stuffed your papers in your bag before you trailed after him towards the door.

You walked into the hallway, hands stuffed into the pockets of your hoodie, looking around the empty hallways.

“I want you to know if somethings going on you can talk to me about it (Y/N), I’m here to listen, help if I can.”

“Uh huh.”

He sighed.

“I know you don’t like other people all that well, especially not people your age, but that doesn’t mean you can keep acting like this.”

“What’re you gonna do about it? Punch me?”

“You’d love that huh? Get to sue the school and get free money.”

“Hell yeah, I’ll even give you a cut, what you say Mr E? Free shot.”

He laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re trouble, you know that? No amount of money you’re gonna split with me is going to make me change my mind.”

You grinned a little.

“Come on, free money.”

“Not for hitting you, not a chance. I wouldn’t hit you either way.”

“Give it time, I have a way of pissing people off.”

“Hey, language.”

You guys walked over to the stairs and you sat down, watching as he stood a few steps down, looking at you with crossed arms.

He sighed a bit.

“I know you struggle, god knows I can’t even begin to understand, but I am here, we can offer support, help.”

You shook your head.

“Nah.”

He sighed, walking up the steps and sat next to you, clasping his hands together.

“(Y/N), everything’s going to be alright, I know it’s hard to see that right now, and maybe you don’t, you can’t believe that, but it will be. You’re smart, and you’re strong, you’re going to be alright I promise.”

“Can we just change the topic, hell, I’ll even go help with that stupid crap that everybody else is helping with.”

“Alright then, come on, we’ll go help set up the main hall for the dance.”

Mr Evershed led you to the hall, and he took you over to a table.

“I’ll come check on you in a little while, you think you can sort these lights for me?”

You looked at the tangled mess of lights and have a half shrug.

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”

He smiled and walked away to talk to a few other teachers that were overseeing everything and you focused on the task at hand.

Sitting on the table, you began to work through the tangled lights, occasionally looking around at the other detention students.

They were glancing at whispering.

“The fuck you looking at?”

One of them smirked.

“You whipped now? Do what those assholes tell you?”

“I want out as quick as possible, I do this I can do. Simple logic shit brains.”

“Bet by tomorrow you’ll be a good student, doing your homework and all that just like your parents wanted. Maybe then they woulda kept you.”

You set the lights aside.

“Shut your damn mouth.”

They scoffed and you picked something up from the table and threw it at them.

Grabbing another object, you threw that next and it shattered which got the attention of everybody in the hall.

“(Y/N)!”

Mr Evershed dropped his bag and jogged over, ducking under the next decoration that you had thrown.

“Stop throwing things!”

You glared at him, picking something else up.

“No!”

You went to throw it and he quickly grabbed your hand, taking the decorative ball from you and he set it down.

“No more…” he whispered.

You glared at him, and he picked up your bag, handing it to you.

“Go hone, alright? Come find me in the morning and we’ll talk.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You pushed him aside and stormed out of the hall.

You weren’t mad at him, he had done everything he had to and more in order to help you, but you were just mad.

That was it.

Mad.

You needed time to cool off, calm down, whether you went back tomorrow, or even at all was a different story and you would deal with that when it came to it.

All you wanted to do now was just go home, so that’s what you did

[keeponquinning]

Okay, singer!reader but non-specific to any fic i'm writing. except for this one now!

just fluff, bc i'm feeling it.

You work at a dive bar that sometimes do karaoke, and that's how you and Eddie meet. He's undeniably metal, and you're more rock, though can do pop from time to time, you two sometimes clash with your music tastes, rip on each other, but there's mutual respect and yeah, attraction from the both of you. You never say anything about him being a super senior, you've been out of school for about two, maybe three years, a slightly older woman though not by much, but he'll call you Mrs. Robinson from time to time just to be a little shit.

You finally book a gig, but it's for the senior prom at Hawkins High, your old school, and of course, you can't do your kind of music, just what's approved. Which is mostly soft love songs from the 1950's and onward. It's slightly embarrassing, but you're getting paid actually doing something you love, and you get to wear a pretty dress. It could be worse. So, you make the best of it, singing your heart out, but seeing most just ignore the stage and not even paying attention, so when you're singing Hopelessly Devoted To You, you're kind of phoning it in. You don't mean to, but again, you're discouraged and rethinking your life choices.

And then Eddie Munson comes in, wearing a tux, and your eyes meet and you can't help but smile. The passion that had waned sparking right up, and you're belting it out, "My head is saying, foooool, forget hiiiim. My h e a r t is saying...don't let gooo.... Hold on to the end.... That's what I inteeeeend to dooo... Hopelessly devoted....to yoooou." And you're singing it, right to him, and he smiles wide, watching you as you sing song after song, giving it your all. No one else really seems to care, but he does, and you're singing to him, no one else mattering at that moment.

You get your break and walk off stage and he's waiting with a drink in hand for you. "Nice tux, Munson," you tell him, taking the cup and took a drink,"Mm, spiked, my favorite kinda punch."

"Yeah, well, figure you'd need a little kick to finish the night singing that kind of music. How does it feel, selling out before you even got started?"

"Oh, it'll feel great when I get paid, so..." You scoffed, taking another drink, a cautious eye over him. "Okay, but seriously... I didn't expect to see you here. Like... I thought prom wasn't metal enough for you. Hot date?"

"No, no hot date. And you're right, this place? Definitely not metal enough for anybody. Like, seriously? Under the sea? Had this last year, doesn't anyone get tired of the same old thing, year after year?"

"Honestly.... This looks like my prom which is sad and weird. It's been a few years and it's...the same. It's the same. Except better singing."

He smirked, taking a sip of his drink while his eyes looked over at you, noting your dress, your hair, make up, the works. "Definitely hotter entertainment than last year — I mean, not that I went to that one either. That's a pretty dress, sweetheart."

You didn't want to, but you smiled, feeling a heat at the back of your neck. You blamed it on his tux and how good he looked in it. "So that why you came? For the live entertainment?"

He gave a shrug, his eyes lingering on you still, "Maybe. You kinda make their lame song choices alright to listen through. That's talent. And maybe I wanted to see the dress."

"Is it metal enough for you?"

"Nah. But definitely looking..." He paused a moment, a smile flooding his face. "You look good. Mrs. Robinson."

"Fuck off," you tell him with a laugh. "You look good, too."

"Yeah?" he questioned, his brows raised, though obviously pleased. "Wanna do something about it?" He straightened up, placing his cup down and offered his hand, "Would the lady like to dance with me? Maybe make my first prom memorable?"

A snort left you, looking at him, waiting for him to lower his hand, to tell you he was joking. But he wasn't. It remained just as it was, waiting for your hand to join his. You give a shrug, finishing your drink and putting it aside. "I don't see why not. Would make up for my actual prom, my date had a thing for stepping on my toes."

"I promise, light on my feet, surprisingly." And he was, and it wasn't just one dance, it was several, the slow dances, too. All until you were on stage again, singing and only to him, only to Eddie. Something you both tended to do when you saw each other perform on stage after that night, your dreams of making it into music intertwining with one another, as your relationship grew past the first kiss that very night.

[gregoftom]

ok thank GOD we survived another week CMON TOM GIRL THAT’S IT. okay well here’s my tg two cents since i’ve finished the episode. 

so here’s the thing. i seen a post or two really crushing their rs down to bare bones basic cynicism it’s only about what they can do for each other businesswise and i gotta say, kids could you lighten up a little? tom wasn’t especially nice to greg this episode or anything, but i don’t think he was like. awful? or anything? he’s exhausted and stressed ofc he’s gonna snap, and ofc he’s not going to like greg being distracted and not paying full attention to him when they’re alone together and he specifically made sure no one else was there. he let greg go to the funeral first even though we Know he feels safer when greg goes in to things like this with him [re: logan’s wake] and ofc he’s gonna need greg going to bat for him to mencken making sure to repeatedly mention tom and putting what he’s learned into putting tom forward and while i get that it can suck not to see some sort of appreciation towards greg i mean, was it really that bad?

did he throw anything at him? did he call him any cruel names? did he bully him specifically beyond what he might say to other atn employees? did he do anything from his old ways except for order greg around?

no. and see, tom is probably very insecure at this point. what does he have to offer greg, except his love? and where has he been before where his love has been rejected? where it’s not been good enough? where it’s not been respected? so he’s gonna order greg around bc he wants to give a show of, see i’m still your superior and i can still take care of you i promise!! even though they both know full well that greg outranks him by now. if greg reaches a point in power and prosperity rivalling or even surpassing shiv then, oh boy here we go again! i’ve got nothing to offer you but my love and it won’t be good enough, just like last time. 

tom has all these grandiose ideas of romantic runaways, leave this life behind and come with me but regardless of everything going on, for him personally it’s not as simple as that. he doesn’t see a worth to the other person unless he can give them protection or give them something in return. with shiv i think he figured that great sex, being servile to her and helping her rise to power to gain his own at the same time is what kept it going. and then after that falls apart he has his love. but the type of love he wants to give is not what shiv wants or responds to i believe. that’s not a slight on her it’s just. i don’t see them being able to work at least not without a lot of personal and marriage therapy and like. i don’t think either of them would go for that. he also has these very traditional ideas of a relationship i feel, and the way that he justifies his feelings towards greg is to make a joke out of it, go along with the whole disgusting brothers bit [which personally i think is Only referring to them being each other’s wingmen in scoring, which is interesting considering what shiv said about it and how annoyed she got about greg, bringing him up by name so i’m not exactly sure how much “scoring” was done, at least with women lmfao] add a splash of internalised homophobia, etc. and i think shiv, understandably, due to her repeated experiences of misogyny pushes back against that.

hear me out. it’s actually GOOD for tom to act the way he did towards greg in contrast to how he did to shiv! mattmac has said COUNTLESS times that tom is afraid of shiv. we’ve seen him with a black eye caused by her [before anybody starts i KNOW he flicked her ear and that was NOT cool, but let’s not forget this] and mm commented on how he changes his voice to a higher pitch around her, both in servitude and in being afraid. he’s on eggshells around her. the balcony fight was the first time we saw that not being the case. yeah i get that it’s disappointing to see him backtrack slightly with shiv, be kind to her and not to greg. to see him have to get permission from her to do things like sleep in contrast to with greg, where his basic needs are just met instead of begged for. but he’s NOT backtracking with greg! he’s NOT reverting to previous behaviours with him! and he’s being his honest true self with him!

yes okay he’s snapping at greg! he hung up on him! he’s ordering him around! but he’s insecure; of course he is, he probably thinks greg will walk! greg has gravitated to power repeatedly, why shouldn’t tom be afraid that his feelings for greg aren’t enough to keep him loyal to him, esp when those feelings have not been enough before? yes greg has proven himself a couple of times but cycles and fears are hard to break! we already have “you’ll do it with matsson and not with me?” paired with “i want YOU gregging for me!” like, what more do you need? tom wants to present as still in control and at point where he has the right to tell greg what to do because he wants to show he can make good on their deal, not knowing that greg actually cares about him personally too [which we know for a fact because he goes so mf hard for tom and has done ever since the deal in 3.09. it is not just about gain and i think we can see that’s a fact by now. what leverage does tom have that he could maintain?]

i’m not about to say that the business side of their relationship doesn’t exist at all. i’m not about to say that greg will not use tom, or tom will not use greg. i’m not about to say there’s no negative or manipulative parts of their relationship. but to reduce it to simply this, is just not true. there’s much, much more to it than that. i guess i get a little defensive on this part bc i hate a mlm pairing being lessened to just a joke, or not to be taken seriously, or well pack it up guys, because it didn’t mean anything and was Only a way for the both of them to get ahead and that’s all it ever was.

nah. it wasn’t just that, sorry. and i know the show will probably ditch them, i’m not gonna say succ will let them run off into the sunset. this ain’t my first rodeo. i’ve been in fandom for like 17 years, i know the game, i know how it works. i know tom/shiv is probably endgame in the long run. but i’m just saying, y’all gotta stop reducing it to something so minimal when clearly the dynamic between them captured not only shippers, but general audiences around the globe. i guess i don’t like when ppl contribute to letting the show give it a back seat and give in to it trying to really demean it to less than it actually was. bc we know and THEY know that it was deeper than that. honestly i have a feeling jesse might’ve been held back by hbo judging by the scripts, plus we know there was a lot of shit cut for time, but i digress.

i’ve been saying this for a while now, but if tom and greg are still in each other’s lives in some way by the end of the show, there’s always hope for tg. they don’t have to kiss or declare their love. it’s not as though it’s never been done with a het ship before, take x files mulder and scully for example. yes i know they were eventually “canon” to the point they were in a relationship, but not for years! years! and even then at one point they broke up but were still in each other’s lives with the chance to find each other again and reconcile, which they did!

tom and greg just have to be able to reach other in some capacity, for it to be a possibility. and we have creators in the community to explore how that would work.

<3

[nagdabbit]

title i'm so sorry my hand slipped: un-beef-lievable

rating: teen, for cusses and implied ass eating and the awful pun

pairing: hangman adam page/jon moxley (/renee paquette, implied)

words: 2.1k

@wrestleprompts week one: "Two people reach for the last bottle of the same drink in a gas station fridge package of burger in the grocery store."

i dunno what this is, but it happened.

.

Jon Moxley was a scumbag. 

He was a vicious, violent blood pervert who liked to watch MMA and beat off. A brat who craved attention and did anything and everything he could to get it—usually involving running his mouth to the point of getting hit. A troublemaking dickhead. An idiot with a mean right hook and a nice wife who terrified Adam more than he'd like to let on.

And most of all—worst of all—he wouldn't fucking leave Adam alone. He expected it in the ring, in the back hallways of whatever stadium they were in that week, the parking garage—hell, he figured Mox wouldn't hesitate to jump him in a hotel lobby if the mood struck. But not once did he ever expect the man to accost him in fucking Kroger, of all places. 

Mox was smirking as he noisily smacked his gum, eyes intent on Adam's. Man that handsome had no business being that punchable. "You gonna let go anytime soon, cowboy?" 

Like hell was he gonna. He wasn't ever one to back down, especially not to Mox. "I got here first."

"Bullshit."

"You're always tryin' to ruin my—"

"Oh, like you don't do the same!"

"Well if you didn't mouth off all the damn time!"

"You're one to talk!" Mox rolled his eyes as hard as he could, "C'mon, man. For once, I don't want any trouble. I just want the beef."

"Bullshit," he shot back. Mox always wanted trouble. He lived for it.

"Didn't anybody ever teach you not to fuck with service workers?" He made a face at Adam, like he should've been ashamed of himself. "Nobody here needs to clean up after us. No fuckery 'til we get to the parking lot. Cross my heart or whatever."

Adam rolled his eyes. Or whatever indeed. Man had no trouble knocking out any security guard, coworker and innocent bystander that got in their way, but a little rumble in a grocery store was a step too far. "How chivalrous."

Mox just grinned, gum caught between his front teeth. "Yeah, I'm a real catch."

Adam just wanted a goddamn burger. That was all. That's all he’d gone looking for. He’d had a travel day from hell, his nerves were frayed and his brain was jittery, and all he could think of to fix it was a simple burger. Just a simple package of ground beef, enough to have some leftover burgers for the couple days he was stuck in town for the pay-per-view. That was it. He really didn’t think he was asking for too much.

Unfortunately, the entire fucking city had agreed with him. The store had been cleaned out, no burger as far as Adam could see. There wasn't even any ground turkey in the cooler, let alone a package of beef.

Well, except the one he and Mox were playing tug of war with.

"Can you please just give me a fucking break?" He was dangerously close to begging, but goddamn it, he was tired and frayed and just on the edge of screaming. 

Mox pretended to think about it for a moment, head tilting this way and that like a puppy. "Nah, I don't think I will."

"Fuck you."

Mox looked around, looked at the meat that tethered them together, and looked back to Adam with his eyebrows raised expectantly. "Well, you need anything else?"

"What?"

He shrugged, easy as anything. Like he didn't give two entire shits, one way or the other, as long as he kept hold of what he'd stolen. "Well, I'm not letting go. I assume you're not, either. May as well get the rest'a your shit instead of just standing here lookin' stupid."

And Mox, the dickhole, just walked off without waiting for an answer, tugging Adam along by the beef. He could either give up, or he could stumble along behind, and he really wasn't in the mood to give up where Mox was concerned. 

It didn't take much coaxing before he was, indeed, stumbling.

"Need cheese, chips, onion rolls, obviously—"

"Obviously," Adam agreed, despite himself.

"—some veggies, and some ice cream," Mox listed off, steering his cart toward the wall of dairy. "Can you go grab chips while I grab some cheese?"

He gave the man a dry look. "You're not that slick."

Mox just gave an easy shrug, unconcerned that his trick attempt hadn't even landed. "I'll get you eventually."

"Bullshit you will."

"I did once already."

"No, you almost killed me."

"Eh, same difference."

"If you'd just let go, I'd leave you alone," Adam suggested, though it sounded a little like hopeful begging, even to his own ears. 

"Uh huh," Mox murmured, absently as he scanned the cooler wall. "You a cheddar guy? You look like a cheddar guy."

Was he? He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess?"

"Good, you're not completely hopeless."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome." Mox scanned the wall of choices for a few moments, then settled on the store brand of dairy-free cheese, like he’s decided to zero in on the one Adam hated the most.

Adam sighed. "Nah, that one sucks. Doesn't melt very well, get the Chao," Adam grumbled and smacked Mox's hand away, grabbing for the Tomato Cayenne slices instead. "These are better."

"God, you're bossy," he grumbled, but he didn't actually sound too mad about it as he dropped the proffered cheese into his backet. "What else d'you need?"

He shook their hands where they were joined by the meat, "Just this."

"Well, that ain't happening, so best be thinkin' about what else you want." Mox looked around thoughtfully, "Need some potatoes and peppers."

"I'm really considering making a mess in the goddamn dairy aisle, if you don't let go," he threatened. It was weak, but Adam was dangerously close to just lying down right there and waiting for their match, dinner be damned.

"Oh, please. Sweet little country boy like you?" Mox scoffed and tugged him along toward the produce. "Your parents taught you better than that."

Adam scowled at the back of Mox's head. He was right, of course he was, but that didn't mean Adam was gonna admit it out loud any time soon. "What are you such an asshole for?"

"What're you so upset for?" Mox countered.

"I am not upset. I am tired, I am angry, my flight got canceled and then the next one got delayed three times. Everyone was loud and complaining and I can’t fuckin’ stand it," he began, despite knowing Mox didn't actually give a shit. "The hotel fucked up my reservation, everywhere else in the fucking city was booked up, so I had book a last minute AirBnb—which was a bitch and a half, let me tell you. And it’s stuffy and dusty and overpriced, so I’m out a penny and my head hurts. And after all that, all I fuckin' wanted was a nice meal, a night t'myself and some fuckin' peace."

Mox scrunched up his nose a little, frowning back at Adam over his shoulder. "I don't see what I have to do with—"

"You're pissin' me off," Adam spat, and gave the package of burger another firm yank. Didn't even fucking budge. "You have spent months at this fuckin' point, making my life a living hell, and you can't even let me have one evening."

A tilt of his head, a little hum, a noncommittal half a shrug. "Maybe. But you started it."

"How?!"

He shrugged again. "You pushed me off a fuckin' ladder."

"That was so fucking long ago!"

"Yeah, but it hurt."

Adam groaned and dragged his feet, even as he let himself get towed along. "All I fucking want to do, is go back to my overpriced house and grill a goddamn burger."

Jon hummed as he observed the potatoes on offer, like they held any kind of answer. "Sounds like a you problem. You can always let go and hit another store."

"I'm not getting another fucking Lyft just to go to a different grocery store."

"Well, tough tits, then."

"The hell do you even want it for? You can't cook."

"Nah, but Renee can."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Oh fuck off, who cares."

Mox came to a sudden stop, suddenly tense and still. He turned a slow, dangerous look toward Adam. "Did you just insult my wife's cooking?"

And Mox had been right, after all; his parents had taught him better. He knew a line when he crossed it, and insulting someone who didn't deserve it—and wasn't even there to defend herself—was just a step too far. He immediately raised his hands in surrender and, because he knew Mox, leaned himself backward out of punching range. Not that it really mattered.

Mox smirked, and placed the package of meat into his basket as he continued on down the aisle. Easy as that. Took away all of Adam's hope for an easy, comfortable evening, and he hadn't even broken a sweat. "Thanks, cowboy."

Mother fucker.

He watched Mox amble away for a few steps, until the spike of anger and shock subsided, and he was left with hunger and bitter disappointment. "I hate you."

The fucker just laughed.

Mother fucking fuck. 

Well, there went his evening, walking away with a smirk and a swagger. He watched on for a few seconds more, and then headed for the exit with a sigh, already opening up a map of the area, in case there were any other stores within walking distance. Maybe he could find a Wendy's, or something. Salvage at least a little bit of his evening. 

Hit kind of regretted not just throwing a haymaker the moment Mox smirked at him. They'd both have gotten thrown out, but at least Mox wouldn't have walked away with his prize either. 

But he wasn't at work. He didn't have to fight if he didn't fucking want to, no matter how much Mox grated on his nerves. And even if he had been itching for a fight, Mox hadn't brought his friends into it. Hadn't deliberately tried to goad him into doing something stupid. Just stole a package of ground beef out from under his nose, which wasn't a big deal. But Adam was hungry and tired and overloaded after a day of travel. 

He was slouched against the side of the building, in the middle of ordering another ride, when a shadow crowded into his space. Warm body heat, and a cloud of cigarette smoke and cherry candy and mint. He didn't have to look to know who it was, but he did anyway.

Mox was still smirking. He held out an expectant hand. "Gimme your phone."

"Fucking why?" he demanded, though he handed it over without any fuss. Mox would probably take it by force if he wasn't careful, and Adam was too tired to care what he planned to do with it.

An untroubled hum and a half a shrug. "Just thought I'd be nice, is all."

"You?" Adam lifted his eyebrows. "Nice?"

"When I'm feelin' like it," he muttered, busily tapping away. He made a triumphant little noise, and threw the phone back.

It was open to a text conversation, with a number he didn't already have in his contacts. A simple message had been sent, with just an address. If he was remembering right, it was just a few blocks over from the place he was staying.

Mox was looking pretty proud of himself when he glanced back up. "What's this?"

"Our AirBnb address, if you didn't feel like just catching a ride with me," Mox said with a grin, backing away across the crosswalk without even looking out for oncoming cars. "Just in case you still wanted that burger."

Was Mox stupid? "Why the fuck do you think I'd go somewhere with you."

"Figured you were hungry." He gave Adam an innocent look—much as he could manage, in any case. He was lucky he was cute, because he couldn't feign innocence for shit. "You've been talking about eating an awful lot lately." 

Adam's cheeks went hot, almost immediately. That was—fair. Adam had let his mouth get the better of him a couple few times, where Mox was concerned. 

His smile widened again, the obnoxious fuck smacking on his goddamned gum. "Renee said she'd set a place for you," he said, smug as anything, and turned away to hunt down his rental in the sea of cars.

Adam stood for a few moments, just watching him swagger away, and then pocketed his phone, ride forgotten. Maybe it wasn't smart to follow along at his heels, but he'd never really claimed to be.

And Mox was right, anyway. He could eat.

[thegeminisage]

SIIIGH it's tng update time. wednesday we did "the first duty" and thursday we did "the cost of living" and "the perfect mate." boy oh boy.

the first duty: my precious darling baby boy is back and now he's doing CRIMES. college sure did a number on him

do you think beverly got the news about the accident and was like wow this is just like that time my husband died and picard came in and was like listen wesley is fine...he's okay...and she was like (on the inside) yeah THIS time. this time he's okay. and she realizes in real time that no matter what some part of her will always be waiting, breath held, for that call. that's what i think

nice to finally meet boothby although shouldn't that guy be like 90 or 100 years old rn? he said when picard graduated ~40 years ago, he was the age picard is now (60ish). like idc enough to break out exact numbers but 80 at the VERY youngest. if this is utopia why is he still doing manual labor???

also wtf was that about how he helped picard out of a jam when picard did something sketchy...i wasn't paying enough attention to the details but idk that i ever caught what picard actually DID. i guess it couldn't be worse than killing a guy though or he wouldn't have got so mad at wesley

i love how they had wesley overexplain why he left his sweater in his dead friend's room to make absolutely sure we knew it WASN'T GAY and by virtue of the overexplanation made it sound like a lie someone would tell if it WAS gay. come on. who cares. he's in college. if he wants to be gay then let him and god bless

in today's very special episode about peer pressure, wesley gets a full-on lecture from his definitely-not-biological father picard. like, REALLY let him have it. poor kid. i mean someone did die though. like someone very much did die

i like how in the end wesley felt all guilty that their ringleader was like nooo just expel me and leave the others alone like he said he would AS IF he wasn't the entire instigator to begin with. they should have expelled everybody except wesley since he broke ranks and then also sent that little punk in particular to whatever the equivalent of jail is now. the penal colony. whatever. didn't they have hard labor in collision course lmao i hate starfleet <3

like, i love the IDEA that star trek takes place in utopia, i love to play in that space mentally, but the fact of the matter is most human beings, including the ones writing star trek episodes, are so cynical we can't even imagine a world without corporal punishment where everyone is taken care of no matter what. we can't imagine a utopia without an ugly underside, which is what starfleet has in practice. so.

ANYWAY.

once again i am fucked by the limit of 4k characters per text block. this drives me BANANAS.

the cost of living: ohhhh my god.

okay, maybe i'm a prude, but i do NOT think it's appropriate for alexander, who's like 2-3 in human years and 8-9 in klingon years, to be naked in a bath with deanna's narcissistic nymphomaniac of a mother. i just don't. i get that in some cultures, including betazed for sure and klingons maybe, and also definitely some real life ones, nudity is not a big deal among family especially in the context of like baths or swimming. however in america in 1992 which is when/where this was written it DEFINITELY would have been weird for this kid to be naked and in a bath with anybody but his immediate family of the same gender (parent or siblings). you could mmmaybe stretch it to an uncle or grandpa since alexander is so young. BUT LWANAXA IS NONE OF THESE THINGS. it made me. SO. UNCOMFORTABLE.

i guess the tng writers really like lwaxana and think she's funny and quirky, which is why they keep writing episodes for her. i mean, her actress is/was married to gene roddenberry and also voices the computers. i get it. she's your friend, have her back on. but for all the crimes done by her (usually against deanna, but also against picard and sometimes riker), and for all the crimes done to her (ferengi rape scenes played for laughs), this really took the cake. not only is she an unwelcome guest aboard the enterprise, which is a working vessel, not a cruise ship, she spends her time aboard it undermining worf's parenting and deanna's counseling IN HER PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT, and then KIDNAPS A STRANGERS CHILD (his parent nor his therapist knew where he was !!!) to take him to the holodeck to SIT NAKED IN THE BATH. and then later at her wedding while she was also naked she gave alexander this playful little wink because he was giggling. LIKE. AM I INSANE? genuinely does that episode make anybody else uncomfortable. i know they didn't do it like that on purpose but it aged so poorly to me. like i don't get it...are there other people who think lwaxana is unbearable or does she have like. stans. a huge mystery

i also really hate that in her usual way lwaxana made the episode all about her stupid midlife crisis instead of like. letting the episode be about worf attempting to parent alexander. we never resolved the dirty clothes on the floor situation. we never got to see their contract/chore chart or whatever. is this why people say worf is a bad parent?? i get he was being overly strict and uncompromising (so was alexander, ironically), but we never got to see where it went, and i am WAY more interested in all of that than lwaxana troi

also lmao i nearly forgot honorable mention to this episode secretly exploring the fascinating new scifi concept of online dating. people got an interenet connect and suddenly anything is possible.

the perfect mate: i can't believe i had to watch this one right after i just watched that other one. hurg.

first of all, cathy was like, do you recognize this hot lady, and i was like well it looks like jean grey but she's the wrong age, so i said no, and she was like, oh it's jean grey. so now no one will ever believe me. also, i'm glad they didn't kiss onscreen watching her rub his little bald head was already too much for me it's going to be so hard to watch xmen without thinking about this now

secondly, picard fights in the war against human trafficking on the side of human trafficking. WHY are his vibes so bad lately. even beverly was like "you can't fuck her, this is human trafficking," and he was like "no i asked and she said it wasn't human trafficking so it's totally cool!" are you kidding me

first of all, let's stop and look at the spooooky scifi concept of having a ~woman~ who molds her very personality (and libido!!) to fit the desires of whatever man she's around so that it's impossible for her to be around a man who DOESN'T want to fuck her because she's every man's perfect woman. (except data. king.) AND because she's sooo desirable she's being human trafficked. and. nobody saw any problems with fetishizing this??

i think deliberately leaving it open as to whether or not picard fucked her was a pussy move. i think that if he did fuck her (and i think he did) you might as well say so instead of being a little bitch about it. you already made him complicit in human trafficking

and if he DIDN'T fuck her it actually makes it very nearly profound, if you take out all the fetishism - because all these guys are falling all over themselves to fuck her because she's drawn that way (like jessica rabbit), but actually all she wanted was somebody who WOULDN'T try to fuck her (she alludes to this a couple of times when he assumes she's coming on to him when she isn't), and if picard didn't, and THAT'S the reason she imprinted on him or whatever, you actually have something there. it's not a great something, but it's still better than the steaming pile of garbage we actually got.

also, having her ~reach sexual maturity~ (oh yeah let's not forget that while an adult human woman plays her she's """barely legal""" as far as her own species goes lmao) and imprint and become picard's perfect woman forever and then get shipped off to be that politician's mail-order bride when he's the one guy who also doesn't want to fuck her is ??? bad and dumb. like i get that's the kind of fucked up ending scifi likes to go for but again we are coming out on the side of human trafficking here. like, this isn't a bittersweet love story. this woman got trafficked.

actually you know what it is. it's "elaan of troyius" from tos except with way less racism and slightly more sexism. in elaan of tryoius she had love potion tears and she used them to essentially date rape kirk (as a means to escape her own horrific situation, so it was nonconsensual on both sides, but less consensual on his) and in this episode there was no forced consent on picard's part but potentially dubious consent on HERS since she has no choice in anything. and she is demure and accepting of her fate whereas elaan of troyius wasn't. and in both cases they just got sent off as mail-order brides to live with whatever diplomat required the purchase of a whole human being in order to agree to peace. cool. u can KIIIND of understand kirk wanting nothing more to do with her (again, she raped him), but PICARD?? who was supposed to be in love with her??? cmon.

tonight: god help us: "imaginary friend" and "i, borg." that second title would normally make me optimistic but i am a woman devoid of all hope. if they're as bad as the last two we watching i don't know how i'll survive.

[rjalker]

Well there was a lot going on in my dream because at some point there was like a toddler who was possibly trying to murder people possibly trying to help people but kept coming off as murderous by accident? I don't remember the details. Also there was some giant whale metal pokémon thing but I don't think it was actually a pokémon that we were trying to catch with a totally not a pokeball and it was in the ocean so people kept throwing things at it and missing and then I was like kind of telepathic because I was slightly aware that I was dreaming so I was just appointed my hand at the thing and said yes this will work and then it did work because that's how it works.

But then I was randomly like in a giant school bus and with I guess college kids or something I don't know and they were talking about how many people they'd slept with and they were all giggling and laughing and then they were like so how many people have you slept with that I'm just like none? And they were all disbelieving and like no you're just being modest blah blah blah and I'm like no. None. I am not interested in that at all.

And then some girl at the very very back was like ooh I heard it transforms into a ~werewolf~ in its ~dreams~

Implying that werewolves are inherently sexual for some fucking reason. So I was like, in the most threatening voice ever, would you like me to transform right now and show you what happens while I am a werewolf in my dreams?

And then there was a spaceship and the crew was represented by tiny little figurines and there was some disease or something outbreak on the ship and I don't really understand what was going on, except that everybody aboard the ship had died and we were putting the little figurines in a ceremonial case to bury it which would symbolically uh I forget the word,.... ummm.... I yeah I can't remember the word. It would symbolically do something to their souls so that they wouldn't be able to pass the disease on to anybody else in the afterlife. But then some person had been trying to like get there possibly niece into a higher position in the I don't know space ranks or something so her little figurine was there too and then the person was not paying attention and accidentally left their nieces figurine sitting right on the same table as all the victims of the plague who were already dead so her figurine also got put into the thingamajig with all the dead peoples figurines and got buried with them and then. I mean I didn't see it but like it was very obvious that this made this random girl out there half undead now with unforeseen consequences. And there was no way to undo it because the figurines had all been put in the thingamajig with fungus or something that would either burn or decompose them as part of the ritual so like it was completely undoable.

and there was just a bunch of battlestar Galactica music. Kind of implying that the people above were from some Battlestar Galactica alternate universe.

[thebittercorvus]

"Try?" The man asked, with just the faintest shadow of mockery covering his voice. "Look at you. Not very threatening, are you?"

"I can cut up a bitch," he spits angrily.

The man in front of him responds to Michael. If asked, Ryan wouldn't be able to confirm if that's his real name or not, but that's always been the deal with this people. In this situation, it doesn't really matter, however. He could be called by every other name and the situation wouldn't change in the slightless. A pig by any other name and all that.

Being abducted really was not part of his list for the week and yet there he fucking was. This is going to throw his schedule off.

"I'd love to see you try, really," he replies. His smile is familiar, which on its own is already rather annoying. Ryan really tries not to think too hard about it. "I'd love to see his work at play. Tell me, Ryan, how has my dear brother trained you?"

At that point, somebody else would've wondered about the exact steps in life one would need to take in order to reach this outcome. Not him. Not really. He knew exactly when everything went wrong.

It goes like this.

One day, dear father leaves and suddenly you have to carry on with the business. Not leave in a dramatic manner, the old man was still alive somewhere, probably enjoying life in retirement. Good for him. Sorta. He's never been close to his father, or anybody in his family really, so it's not like he can summon that many positive thoughts about them. His father left him with several things to work with that he didn't understood. His half-sister materialized out of thin air and probably was taking over everything now that he was suddenly gone. His mom was... probably also alive somewhere, working harder than the devil to ensure absolutely no-one figured out they were related.

It goes like that and it really is that fucking complicated.

So really, that one attempted assassination that ended up with him just-- what, hiring the dude that tried to kill him? Yeah, that right there is the easiest part of how things got like... this.

He should've known better than to hire a failed assassin. They never come alone.

In his defense, the man was kinda cute. Completely oblivious to his feelings too. That was alright, they had time to work on that. Probably. Hopefully. Eventually.

Yeah.

"Sorry, completely spaced out right there," he replies, laying back on his chair, at ease. "What were you saying again bitchboy?"

The man stared back, unsurprised. "Really."

"Are you surprised? I mean, how hard was it for you to find me and abduct me. How long it took, like, an hour of planning maybe? I'm not that much of a hotshot myself man, seriously, no need to be such a tryhard. You could've offered me a good handj-"

"Aaaand I'm going to stop you right there," Michael interrupted his ramblings just as he was about to get very specific. Well, he's the one missing out. Now he looks mortified but really, Ryan was just about to get hilarious. "See, this is the part in which I begin to regret having to do this again."

"Oh, we're there already? Good, the handcuffs are way overkill man, I--" The click of a gun interrupts him. Michael is pointing at his forehead again. Well, that's rude. "Seriously."

"Tell me where Angelo is, and we'll part ways in peace."

He clicks his tongue, loudly. "This is not very taki taki rumba of you."

He sees his eyebrow twitch. Like, visibly. Amazing. "Whatever the hell does that even means?!"

Vaguely, in the distance, he could swear. He hears a body hit the floor. A bit like the song, except this time it's even more hilarious, because he gets to confuse his presumably-soon-to-be-brother-in-law-if-his-bodyguard-ever-gets-the-clue even further.

Which he does. Of course he does. Angelo taught him one very important thing and that is to always wipe down his dishes with a paper towel before cleaning them, that way he'll save soap and water.

The second most important thing is that deceiving somebody is simply making them pay attention to the thing they want to pay attention too. The third most important thing would be that it's always a good moment to remind people that they just lost The Game but that sort of comes from himself.

"Oh, y'know the song, it goes like..." he begins, pretending he's forgotten about the song that he's been listening to, daily, for a couple months now. He hears a second body drop. There were only three guards by the door. "Mmh, y'know what? I think I just forgot."

"What?"

"Instead, wouldn't you hear my sad woes on how I want somebody, want them bad, want them to write me a bad rom-"

Michael looks at him like he was just forced to eat a sour lemon whole. "Oh come on, I know that song."

On his side, Ryan hears the last body drop. It's a good thing, really, that Michael is so focused in him and his nonsense right about now. Makes it all a lot more easier. And funnier. At least inside his head. It's like he's inside a running gag now, he's always wanted to be part of something like that, and maybe also to get a surprise birthday party.

Where was he? Oh, right, getting threatened.

"Well, of course you know the song! It's a classic!" He insists, acting as if he can't notice the very obvious figure stalking the shadows of the room. Michael might as well be stupid, blind and-- hey now that's a Shakira song. And also, is Michael really that confused by the song Taki Taki? "Admittedly not as much as a classic as Toxic but--"

"I mean, I personally prefer Bad Romance--"

"And I respect that you make bad choices for yourself, however--"

And so, the click of a gun interrupts them both. This time, coming not from Michael's, but from the hands of someone walking from the shadows.

He can't help but smile, when Michael rolls his eyes so far his own skull they might just get stuck like that.

Serves him right.

"I believe," he hears a somber timber. Quite the familiar one, too, "You have something of mine. Please return him to me."

Something of mine? He thinks, trying not to get excited. Boy oh boy, he's definitely not going to forget about that one any time soon!

"Well, there you are, jackass," Michael replies, finally pointing the gun away. This time towards the man in the shadows. The one who just called him his. Yeah that one. Sexy motherfucker. Ryan is going to give him a salary raise. "I only had to abduct your little boss over here for you to show your grim mug around."

"Told you it was way overkill," Ryan whistles, very much amused.

"You shut up! Our conversation isn't over yet! And you!" Michael quickly loses interest in him, focusing instead on his brother who finally decided to step forward and let himself be seen. They look nearly identical, but Angelo's nose has been broken a few times. "Do I really need to take this kind of measures to make you come to the annual family dinner?"

Angelo lifts one single eyebrow as his answer. And honestly? Yeah, same.

"Fine. Fine! Whatever! Listen just-- just make sure you come, alright? Bring him if you want to--"

"Rude," Ryan interrupts again.

Michael ignores him for the most part. "Just... Just be there, yeah?"

And so, the two of them finally put their guns back in their places. And Ryan, who only now had begun to figure out that he ended up in a hostage situation just so that his bodyguard and his brother could have a chat-- talk about difficult families, geez-- rattled his handcuffs rather obnoxiously.

Eventually they decide to stop looking at each other eyes spitefully, and Michael walks outside to deal with whatever mess his younger brother left behind. Angelo however, finally turns around to see him.

"Sorry," Angelo speaks, and kneels in front of Ryan. The one with the keys is Michael, but a lock has never stopped him, which adds on to the 'this man is so hot I am going to backflip into the Sun' list. Also, his leather gloves. He's wearing them right now, actually.

"Did you really came prepared to have to kill somebody?" He asks with a teasing tone. "I knew it was your brother. He'd know better."

"Well, thanks for the credit! You could have made it easier!" He hears Michael say from the hallway. He's waking up the guards.

Angelo scowls. Actually fully scowls, boy he's pissed. "Of course I was prepared to have to kill somebody. I thought you were being targeted, I left to go get you that seasonal coffee you like and when I returned your phone was on the ground and you were nowhere to be seen." Confused, Ryan searched through his pockets, for the first time in the, what, entire two hours he was held hostage? Yeah there was no phone in there. Angelo probably has it in his Jeep. Now he's looking at him intently, like there's something in his face that's really bothering him. "Somebody here should definitely make an effort not to harm their hostages!"

"Well, he was resisting!"

"That's what you're supposed to do when you get abducted, Michael!" Ryan calls out. "Also, last time I got inside your car willingly, you took me to meet the family. Your mom is just insane!"

"Rude! She's a sweetheart!"

"Mother is kind of insane, Michael," Angelo confirms. "And you should not have taken him to see her."

At last Michael walks inside the room again. Behind him there's three men looking mighty confused, although he can see at least one of them seeing the situation and just shaking his head, clearly used to it already and pretty much over it.

"Shouldn't have? Well, how were we supposed to meet your husband? You would've never introduced him to us otherwise!" Wait what. "I can't believe you went and got married behind our backs! We didn't even know you had a boyfriend to begin with!" Wait just a damn second!

"Married?!" Ryan asks, a mix of confusion and disbelief and maybe just the tiniest hint of God Don't I Fucking Wish if you were to pay attention, which none of these men were doing.

At which Michael finally looks at him. "You two are like. Super bad at hiding it, if that's what you're trying. The family isn't even against it, they were looking for a peaceful takeover after all, nobody considered marriage but surely it would've come up eventually--"

"Michael would you shut the fuck up already, I beg you," Angelo mutters between clenched teeth. His hands are on his face and Ryan knows he's just about to kick his brother. He also looks like he just aged like ten years from this conversation only. "Ryan and I are not even dating, I really just work for him."

"Yeah, for sure," Michael laughs. And then the two of them just stare at the man, wishing they could throw daggers through their eyes. Eventually he takes the hint. "Wait, really?!"

"Angelo I'm done here, could you drive me to the coffee shop again? I'm getting that coffee, I feel like I earned it now," Ryan declares, getting up swiftly and stretching for a bit before walking out of the room, leaving a very confused Michael behind. Serves him right. How dare he read his intentions out loud!

Angelo follows, just one step behind. He always does.

***

"I apologize," he hears him say as they walk across the park. Ryan got himself his coffee, and bought for Angelo a strawberry shortcake. Looking at the mountain of a man you'd never guess he has a massive sweet tooth, but he does. He also likes tortoises a lot, and walks around the house wearing fluffy pink bunny socks.

Ryan is over the moon with him.

"What for?" He asks.

"My family... and their inappropriate ideas about the two of us," Angelo replies. So that's where this is going. "You must have been uncomfortable."

"Not really," he replies quietly, looking at his companio's reactions very carefully. "Were you?"

"... No."

And they leave it at that.

"You ought to be more careful," he hears Angelo say after a while. "A lot of people out there are looking for me. Lesser men would kill you over such a thing."

"They could certainly try to," Ryan replies. "That's what you're here for, aren't you? My knight in shiny armor."

"I'm hardly a knight."

"I'm also hardly a king," he replies. "And yet, in front of me, don't you always kneel? I feel like that's something."

Eventually the man will get the clue.

Writing Prompt #2271

"Lesser men would kill you over such a thing."

"They could certainly try to."

[petertxngle]

@agecfmiracles continued from here

“I just don’t wanna...bring anyone down,” Peter admitted and raised one of his hands to put it on hers. “I’m sure you’ve noticed how disconnected I’ve been, right? I just wanna...you know what, talking it out would be nice actually,” He reasoned as he looked up at his girlfriend. “Though I don’t know what I’d say. I tried giving you the shortened version just now and that obviously didn’t go that well,” He trailed off. 

Peter flinched slightly when the last bell of the day rung, signaling that school was over. “You think we can get that smoothie now?” He whirled around to make sure no one could hear him but MJ. “I mean, I planned on patrolling today, but with this sucky mindset, I don’t think it’d be ideal, you know?”

[ronearoundblindly]

Old Dog, New Tricks

From a lovely 'Sweet Sunday' ask!

Prompt from @whiskeytangofoxtrot555: Our soft boi Steve is in a relationship with a fellow Avenger (but not Keeps—this is in another timeline) who is just as sexually inexperienced as he is, but when Steve comes back from a particularly long and dangerous mission he realizes life is too short to not “take it to the next level’ with his girl—and she feels the same way.

WC- 4306 (🤯 yeah, what the hell happened, you ask? i don't know. you get what you get 🤷🏻‍♀️) Also completely written in a couple of hours, so if there was editing, it was all a joke and everyone can laugh with me...

If you couldn't tell from the prompt, THERE'S SMUT. Minors DNI.

Steve didn’t notice anything until months and months of fighting with you—no, that sounds wrong—beside you. He fights beside you, and sometimes behind you where he gets to see the sides of you, all of you really, and the curves…he just…

He’s having trouble putting it all together basically. You’re highly efficient and dedicated to the Team; you have been since day one. It started with Steve admiring that dedication, and seeing a lot of his own workaholic tendencies in you—oh dear, no, that’s also. Uh boy.

Steve can’t seem to pull it together.

The real problem started with a very typical situation. The Team came home from a mission, and to blow off some steam, they played a game. Since they love to tease each other about how little they all get to have personal lives, “Never Have I Ever” is a favorite. Steve takes it on the chin, but he notices that you never play. Sure, being too tired or wanting to check in with your family and other friends is a good excuse for a while, but every single time over months is…suspicious. When Steve saw that familiar shy smile, the one he puts on right before the game starts, he knew, and suddenly, so many things made so much sense to him.

So he didn’t feel so alone. That was really nice for a while. Then he accidentally noticed you—that way—because he thought “why wouldn’t she?” He knows why he has no experience, but look at you! It doesn’t make sense to him. Well, it does. He gets it, but…

Steve can’t find the words to describe how angry he is at other men for not noticing and wanting to touch you…except, he really gets angry thinking about if other men did that now. He knows it’s not fair to be jealous or possessive of someone who he is not with and has no right to, but…Steve has hopes.

In classic Steve Roger’s fashion, though, he sits on those hopes. He thinks he’ll die with those hopes, and that’s fine until a bullet catches your shoulder during a fight. You were pushing Natasha out of the way while she took out targets from another direction, and Steve was too far away to chance running all the way over. He had to let someone else get you back to the jet. He had to pay attention and finish the mission, so they could all get out of here and get you to real medical help.

He may have punched a few guys much harder than was necessary to knock them out. It’s not like he killed anybody… He just let Natasha kill a few extra people. No big deal. One of them shot you, so…justice?

Steve tries to play it all off from the moment Sam says over comms that you’re stable and will be fine. Steve doesn’t feel any better about it, but he starts rationalizing immediately.

It’s a through and through.

They’ve got the best med team on the planet.

You’re a fighter and a trouper and a strong woman, and you’ll be fine. Fine. Fine.

The word echos in his head, rattling around while the meaning warps back and forth until he’s sitting in the cargo hold, swallowing thickly while you’re leaned against him, his hands on either side of your shoulder keeping pressure on the wound.

“Just one more hole, eh, Cap?”

How much morphine did Sam give you? You’re pupils are dilated, and you’re taking this pretty well. You have a bullet wound, and you’re giggling. Nat’s even smiling. Steve glares at her for taking this too lightly, and Natasha puts her hands up in defeat and walks away to check on Bruce.

Your tongue rolls slowly over your bottom lip. “I’m thirsty.”

Steve swallows what feels like a whole bottle of saliva at once, but he can’t move his hands from your shoulder—which is also incidentally very close to one of your breasts—but he’s not thinking about that, is he?

“I gotcha,” Bucky obliges, coming back with a canteen, holding your chin still while he slowly pours water into your mouth—and get it together, Steve. This isn’t the time.

Buck pours too fast for a second, and water drips down to your chest. It’s ignored for the most part.

“Better?” Bucky releases your chin as you nod, and he heads up front to Sam.

Your head tilts down, your free hand slowly, clumsily raising to swipe the droplets from your tact suit. “If I could learn to swallow,” you mumble.

Mother of mercy, Steve would give anything not to have super-hearing at this moment. That’s going to haunt him while he’s alone—alone at night, he reminds himself. He wants to disappear into the shadows just so he won’t have to control his face (or body) for five minutes while all these thoughts bounce around in that giant head of his. No. Stop, punk, do not.

Steve’s so fucking screwed and not in a good way.

He’s sweating worse when the jet lands than he was in the throws of battle. He lets the med team take over and get you on a gurney, but he stays seated because…he just needs a minute.

Of course, Bucky notices.

“She’ll be fine, pal. Don’t worry.”

“I know,” Steve says far too quickly. “It’s not that.” He can’t lie worth beans.

“Uh huh.” Buck clicks his tongue. “Right, well, I think we’ll all feel better after we get cleaned up.”

Steve comes down to the conference room after his shower, but he had to actively think of what he’d normally do instead of rush to the infirmary to check on you. Debriefs. Those were a thing after missions. You are usually at them, too, which makes his heart sink a little lower in his gut to realize.

They can’t start the meeting yet because Tony isn’t down. He takes the longest showers on the planet, so all the military personnel sit and twiddle their thumbs per usual while they wait.

Steve takes his usual seat by Bucky, not expecting an incredibly unusual conversation.

“Go ahead. Ask me anything.”

Steve looks rightfully confused while sipping on a cup of coffee.

“Look, if you don’t get off your ass, one of us is gonna lock you two in a room until you fuck.”

Scalding hot coffee spews across the table, and while Buck may have truly whispered all that, everyone is now staring at Steve.

He sets down the cup and says the first—and stupidest—thing that comes to mind. “It’s hazelnut.”

Bucky smirks. “Stevie hates hazelnut,” he deadpans, slapping Steve unreasonably hard on the back a few times.

The burning in Steve’s mouth is nothing compared to the glares he feels. He’d be lobotomized by now if looks could kill, but the group takes it in stride, ignoring the profuse and almost scary shade of red that creeps up his neck.

The flush hasn’t fully dissipated by the time you’re wheeled in. The chair is not from injury but because you’re shaky on pain meds and will need rest. He wants to fawn over you and ask to do a million little things for you, but all Steve manages is a crooked smile and intense fear of whatever Bucky’s about to do.

But it’s not Bucky.

Sam Wilson charms his way around the back of your wheelchair slowly, pushing you up to the table right beside Steve, and coos, “can I get you anything? A coffee perhaps?”

He doesn’t have to do it though because Natasha is already setting a mug down in front of you.

“Careful, dear. It’s hazelnut.” Natasha puts on her best if-you-could-hit-a-woman smirk and aims it right at Steve’s cardinal red face.

“Ooo,” you squeak quietly, “I love hazelnut.”

Steve determines he’ll make a move anyway, but in a very typically, shy, Steve Rogers way.

When the meeting’s over, he volunteers to roll you back to your room for some sleep. He’s overly polite and cautious helping you out of the chair and changing out of partial hospital clothes. They cut away the top of your uniform, but your gown keeps you covered while he yanks off the pant legs of your skintight suit. He’s proud of himself for keeping it professional and friendly until he chickens out and tries to leave.

You’ve started to cry and ask for, of all things, a hug.

Steve’s melting faster than a Coney Island ice cream cone in the dead of summer. Of course, he’ll hug you. He’s literally dying to hold you.

It is, however, awkward with your injured arm. After trying a few angles, he swings around to wrap his arms at your waist and set his chin on your good shoulder. Steve’s never hugged anyone for so long and yet it was not long enough.

He never officially asks you out. He just keeps coming around every day and helps you do everything. When you’re in rehab for your shoulder, he helps with your muscle stretches, but he also simply hangs out near you.

When you two are alone he holds your hand or puts his arm over you. Eventually, he just snuggles up to you, standing, seated, or prone. Steve adores touching you, but not like that, not yet.

In hushed conversations, fingers wrapped together, cheek pressed to his chest, you’ve explained that it’s just never happened for you. You weren’t comfortable or a guy was too pushy or the timing was all off. Steve’s terrified now because he wants nothing more than for you to be comfortable, to not push you to anything ever, and—GAH—he hopes he has good timing. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t, but he relishes what you two have.

He especially relishes the one night when you two fell asleep in each other’s arms only to wake up—and it’s only because of what happened that Steve will admit this—horny as all hell. Nobody even removed clothing, but he was rock hard and moaning as you tossed a leg above his hip and rubbed against him. If he’s not mistaken, his poorly muffled shout when he came pushed you over the edge. That or Steve’s tight grip on your ass to help you move at a feverish pace.

Steve Rogers is a terrifically patient man, however, so he follows your lead and enjoys lots of intimacy even without, ya know, penetration. He cares and he wants to, but he doesn’t really care and doesn’t need it. If that makes sense. He’s not sure whether that’s wholly true or whether he’s just justifying stalling. He’s afraid of hurting you or being awful at it—or both. Could be both.

Luckily, the Team has now assumed you two are, well, having sex, and misinterpret the pair of you excusing yourselves from “Never Have I Ever” as a way to hide what you’ve done, not what you haven’t done. Steve isn’t correcting anyone, but that means he can’t really ask for advice without admitting very personal things.

He eavesdrops on conversations, even jokingly, that other Avengers and agents have about their sexcapades. He’s fascinated and a little shocked to learn a lot has changed since the good ol’ days when his Ma explained the birds and the bees to him.

Steve will need to do what? Right where? Is that legal? Wait, multiple times? He’s a logistics guy, so the hand-waving of specifics is irritating. How come the clitoris and G-spot have to be so damn hidden? He’s got a cock and balls. Boom. They’re out there for the world to see, well, no, sorta, but it’s certainly easier to get the gist where to touch. Instead, he’s gonna have to dig around and try angles? He has to control his tongue how?

The more Steve tries to plan and prepare himself, the more nervous he gets because this isn’t some sort of practice round: it’s you.

It’s such a strange thing that breaks him. On a mission that ends up being more of a retrieval of some evil douchebag from his palace in another country, Steve sees a woman. She may be the guy’s wife or mistress, but she has that look, the exact same look you had when you told him about men who did not treat you right. He understands why it bothers him so much in that moment.

She thinks that’s what she deserves. She thinks that’s all there is.

Steve feels sick with that thought the entire way home, and he knows you don’t understand when he shows up pounding at your door in the compound. He knows you don’t understand what’s happened when he takes you in his arms, cradles the back of your head, and kisses you like you’ll both be gone tomorrow. He knows you sense something has shaken him when he hoists your legs around his waist and carries you to your bedroom, but then he knows it’s time to talk.

“I love you, and I need you to know it.” He’s stern even when pinning you to your sheets and holding your face to only see him.

“Ok,” you gasp breathlessly. “I love you, too, Steve.”

“No, but—“ he’s had hours in a quinjet to figure out how to say this and he’s still fumbling “—I need you to know you deserve love.”

He watches that hit you harder than his body in the doorway, watches the soft refocusing of your eyes, watches the tensing brow in disbelief, watches the barely-there quiver of your lip. All of this, he watches, and that’s how he knows you heard, even if you don’t understand yet.

He slowly inches down to kiss you again. It’s completely different from every other kiss before, slow and tender, but not at all soft. His hand slides to your hip and pulls you as close to him as possible, flush with him, fused with him.

“Do you think we could try…” he mutters into your mouth in between ragged breaths. He hears your heartbeat hammering like a frantic drumline beneath him, and you nod. He’s both so outrageously excited and petrified that he’ll lose his nerve. He just has to remember what he told himself in the jet: if he can try six different times to get enlisted into the army, he can find a gosh darn g-spot.

No one—no one—would categorize what he does as a graceful disrobing. If you weren’t clearly surprised and nervous, you probably would have laughed at him, and Steve has a mind to tear the crew responsible for his suit a new one over how many pieces there are to loosen and remove until he can finally crook his fingers through the band of your shorts and settle between your legs.

Your shirt is still on, and he hasn’t pressed himself against you because honestly, he’s admiring the view for a moment. He can’t get over how you’re chewing the ever-loving hell out of your bottom lip while looking so greedily at his naked body. Steve knows he doesn’t look the way he grew up seeing himself in the mirror. Never hurts to remind him, and it still makes him blush.

Your eyes dart between his. “It’ll hurt.”

“You tell me the instant it hurts, and we stop. I promise.” Steve lowers himself again and plants a feather-light kiss to your bitten lips. “We don’t have to, you kn—“

“No, I—“ your hands grip at his broad shoulders “—I mean, I’m…just scared, but I…”

“Sweets, I don’t think either of us is ever going to not be scared.” Steve smiles when he sees you grin up at him.

“Somewhere, there’s a grammar Nazi who’ll come find you for that one, Rogers.”

Steve has to laugh, but he doesn’t have to laugh without kissing you feverishly again. Of your own accord, your hands move down, and down, and down to his  ass (which only makes him chuckle a little more), and your hips roll up to meet his in a lazy rhythm.

A familiar heat building in his gut, Steve breaks away. “Can I touch you?”

He sees your mouth open for a witty retort, but nerves take over. You simply nod again.

Steve takes it back. It’s like jumping out of a plane into enemy terrain. With just his fingertips gliding along the soft skin of your folds, he has no idea what he’s doing. What if he tries to press into your ass by accident? Jesus, what if this is just the beginning of his confusion? He tries to press just a little, hoping it seems less exploratory that way.

You clench, and he feels it.

“I’m ready, Steve. I trust you.”

Well, that’s nice and all, but he’s pretty sure he’s made a huge mistake. If he’d been braver, if he’d thought this through, he’d’ve asked for advice. Who he would have asked, Steve doesn’t know.

He can feel it now, your entrance. One finger snags along its edge before he slowly pushes in. Your whine is quickly released into a sigh. It’s ok. You’re ok. No pain, or at least very little of it, so he presses on, smearing around some of the slick coating his finger before adding a second. That makes your fist ball up the sheets at your hips and hiss around a sob. Steve immediately pulls his fingers out.

“Alright? I can stop.”

“No. No,” you pant, “it’s just, uh, the stretch of it stings, but it’s not…I’m ok.”

Steve’s an idiot. He watches your chest rise and fall, realizing something he’s overheard a bunch of times in various ways: if you’re more aroused, you can take him easier. He forgot real foreplay.

Steve doesn’t have to know anatomy and logistics to know that he’d like to kiss you everywhere, so he nuzzles up the hem of your shirt and snakes his fingers (some wet and some dry) up your sides. He’s rewarded with breathy gasps and whimpers he could hear on repeat for a lifetime. He really loves the delicate kind of heft your breasts have in his hands and commits the balance of firm plushness to memory. The texture of your nipple across his lips and tongue is interesting, but he likes your sounds a lot more. He really likes when you arch up into him and grab his hair.

Tentatively, while you’re wholly distracted by his hot mouth dancing all over your chest, Steve returns his hand to your mound. He doesn’t need to press closer to feel the damp pooling heavily between your legs. He’s pleased with himself, to say the least, but it’s still about you even if he is oddly close to finishing untouched based on sound and smell alone. His fingers glide in almost easily now, so easily (and knowing his own size) that he adds a third which is still a stretch.

Oh lord, the guttural thing that rattles out of your throat, though, will haunt his dreams forever. He wants to make you do that again. That’s not a pained sound; it’s close but not quite, and while Steve can’t explain why, he feels pride brewing along with the heat within him.

He curls his fingers, remembering that’s one of those oft-mentioned moves, and he doesn’t expect how immediately your legs fall wider for him. He also suddenly understands the difference in feel between the ridging on your walls and this one spongy spot right there.

Steve looks up from your breast, smiling, only to see that your head is thrown back. That’s ok. He’ll just have a smug moment all to himself because he found it, and he didn’t even have to ask or look it up. Take that, unhelpful euphemisms. Steve Rogers is good at sex.

A very high-pitch whine escapes you before he realizes what he’s doing. Steve buried his fingers in your heat while in his own thoughts, resting the heel of his palm against you, and then started pumping shallowly. Oh. Oh. Alright, he’s starting to get the hang of this, he thinks.

He debates simply watching you continue to fall apart or moving on, but a flash of something deeply feral, carnal all the way down to his core, teases him with the prospect of him being buried inside you, mouths within reach, eyes aligned. It’s not a difficult sell at this point. Steve’s fully supportive of his body existing to be used in this—

“Shit,” Steve hisses. He forgot the freaking condom. He plays it off as you struggle to participate in a coherent conversation, but he’s glad you’re not too far gone when you toss out your arm.

“Implant,” you huff, another groan rolling past your trapped upper lip. “’s fine. Please.”

What kind of gentleman would he be if he quit now, huh?

His whole body is just hot, blood pumping but somehow not efficiently for any other function than to crawl atop you and bask in the look of stunned bliss behind your blown out pupils. Smug is maybe too light of a word. Steve’s ecstatic.

He’s so excited, in fact, and slightly tricked by how wet you are when he first nudges his length against you, that he plunges right in. Your yelp tells him that was wrong, and Steve kisses the few tears that escape your tightly closed eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sweets. Let me—“

“Don’t. Just don’t move for a sec,” you whisper, though he’s not sure you mean to.

Your legs scramble up the back of his, adjusting you and your angle, shifting him deeper even though he isn’t meaning to move. It’s torturous, but he stays completely still.

The few deep breaths you take brush your breasts up against him, and Steve can’t stop himself from taking one in hand again, kneading gently.

“Yes,” you finally sigh, hips rocking a little against his. He has permission to move, and oddly, he realizes he has permission to feel your body so tight around him. It’s a consistent and sensual pressure that Steve admits might be so glorious it should be illegal, but hell, if he’s gonna deny himself this ever again.

You’re perfect. You’re so perfect. You feel so good. He’ll never feel anything as wonderful as you and—

Steve snaps his mouth shut just as the short thrusts he’s been revving up with bring him nearly all the way out of you. Every thought in his head was coming out of his mouth. Maybe he’s a little too excited. He feels a tight pool of pressure that’s not directly gripped by your body, and he’s got to focus on you again. Focus. He can do it.

But then he sinks back into your heat, and no, he cannot do it.

“You want to try…” he’s breathing pretty hard now, too, apparently “…on top?”

“Yeah,” you huff, sloppily propping up on your elbows, “how do I—“

He’s wasting no time. Steve pulls you up into him for a kiss and rolls. He flops so heavily on your mattress, you bounce on him without either of you trying and this is awesome.

It’s that instant that Steve sees the same playful, delirious enjoyment in your eyes as he feels right now. You’ve dipped a toe in, and the water is nice. Jump on in. Steve’s like to let himself drown at this point, so whatever you want…

You experiment with a few types of movement while he watches in total fascination. The style you settle on is pressing your hands flat to his pecs, leaning slightly forward (which pinches your breasts together and dangles them right before his eyes), and dragging your pelvis down over him.

He’s done for. Your tightness pulls on his cock just rough enough to drive him crazy, and that feral urge snaps to the forefront of his brain again. He tweaks your nipples between his fingers and lifts his hips each time you get closer, allowing him deeper. When your body gets tired, torn between fatigue and the heavy coil trying not to break inside, Steve’s hands latch onto your hips and help you keep pace just like they did when you dry humped each other on this very bed. Nothing dry about this though, except maybe his mouth that’s been hanging open for however long now.

He licks his lips just as your head falls and your eyes lock onto his. You whine his name in the downright dirtiest, sexiest, mind-numbing way that the feral piece of him takes completely over. He’s just frantically rutting, pumping your hips into his in whatever way feels so fucking amazing he’s—

Your choked scream startles him for a split second until a deep moan rumbles behind it. Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Fuck, he loves you. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s coming, and then everything dissolves in a toe-curling rush of tangible feelings and heart-stopping emotions.

And then he’s surprised again.

You both come back down to your bodies, he pulls out of you cautiously, and you lay down at his side. Steve pets a thumb over your cheek and softly kisses your lips each time your eyes open back up to him. He shifts around to cover you both in blankets and listens to you hum while you start to fall asleep. Finally, just when he thinks you’re dead to the world, you jump forward (but about as fast as a sloth ‘jumps’ forward) to snuggle against him.

Steve’s already so whipped for this. He’ll give you anything and everything just to be here with him now, all night, all day, months and months, forever. He’ll fight with you, beside you, behind you, on you, inside you. Anything.

He’s done waiting to try.

[Find more on my Masterlist]

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The Sequel: Your Dog, His Tricks

[metalbuckaroo]

Hi! So from the prompt list, could you do the 44th dialogue prompt where reader and roommate!Bucky are talking and bucky just keeps falling in love with her more and more but reader is oblivious to his flirting bc she doesn't think anybody wants her and while they are talking and bonding one evening they fall into the category of relationships as the topic of the conversation (sorry if it doesn't make sense, english isn't my first language)

Bad Night

Summary: After a bad date, Bucky offers his help.

Warnings: Some angst, lil fluffy, pretty cheesy, mentions of sex,

AU: Roommate!Bucky x reader

AN: After 3 days I'm finally letting this go. Not very sure how this got so long, but part of me wants to make a part 2 if that would interest anyone.

Prompt from this list. Requests are always open, reblogs and feedback are appreciated.

MASTERLIST

"Hey, dollface, can you look at something for me?" You heard Bucky call, his footsteps getting closer to your room. "If it has to do with your testicles, then no. I will not."

He stopped in your doorway, eyes wide as he looked you over. "Oh, wow. Where you going? Got a hot date you didn't tell me about?" He teased, walking further into the room.

"Yeah, hopefully this one actually goes decent. Now what do you need?"

He turned so his back was to you and pulled his shirt off. "This place on my scar is all itchy. Does it look irritated?"

Until that day you had came home early from work to Bucky standing in the kitchen shirtless. He had expected you to immediately look at the cluster of scar tissue on his shoulder and never see him the same. Instead, you had just greeted him like any other day; a warm smile that made his heart melt before blabbering about your day and asking him about his.

This hadn't been the first time he'd asked for you to inspect a spot on his jagged scar. Although for the first month he'd make it a point to cover it, not wanting to freak you out.

That's when he got more comfortable, walking around without a shirt or just in a towel after a shower. When your smile started making his heart melt even more than before.

You touched your fingers to a small red blotch on the spot where dark metal met skin and he shivered slightly, goosebumps forming on his skin. "Yeah, it is a little. Try putting lotion on it."

He sighed and turned to face you, looking down at your dress. "Who is this guy? Do I know him?" He said cocking an eyebrow at you. "I tried that stupid dating app you suggested." You exhaled, shrugging your shoulders.

Narrowing his eyes at you, he shook his head. "You're not going." He said folding his arms across his chest. You raised your eyebrows and copied his actions. "And whys that?"

"Because, I should've never told you to try it. Dating apps are full of weird people." He muttered, going over to your dresser. "Murderers, stalkers, creepy cat people."

He opened the drawer and pulled out some clothes to stuff into your hands. "Which is why, you're staying in with me." He smiled, sparkling white teeth flashing at you.

Rolling your eyes you put the clothes back in their spots. "If I don't go on a decent date for once, I'm going to end up a creepy cat person. Besides, not all cat people are creepy. Mrs. Lawrey is really nice."

"She's an exception." He nodded, following you towards your bedroom door and down the hall. "If it makes you feel better, I'll text you if he starts acting creepy."

He huffed a breath and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around to look at him. "Fine, but, that means I get to come rescue my girl if he does."

You felt a slight blush creep your neck and moved away from him to slip your shoes on. "You're just saying that, because I pay half of the bills." You said, opening the front door.

"And you cook pretty good. Now, go on. Be safe." He teased, swatting at your backside as you walked out into the hallway. "Try not to break anything, please." You told him on your way down the hallway.

"Not making a promise I might break."

_____

The date had went horrible, one slip up and he said a few choice words to you before calling a cab to leave.

You swiped your fingertips under your eyes to erase any sign of crying before you got to your front door, wanting to avoid Bucky at all costs.

"Hey, dollface. Back already?" He said from the living room. "Yeah..." You mumbled back, trying to make a break for your bedroom to change.

Bucky could tell something was wrong by how you weren't rambling about everything that happened. "Oh, no you don't. Get back in here."

You exhaled and turned back around to look at him. "What, James?" You sighed, walking closer to where he was sat in a recliner. "What'd he do?" He said, narrowing his eyes at you. "Nothing, I'm fine."

"You're crying, I wanna know why. What'd he do?" You rolled your eyes at his stern voice and shook your head. "Just didn't go very well." You said, sucking in a deep breath.

They never did. As soon as you let one little fact slip, they'd high tail. You would've been better off staying home like Bucky had suggested.

Bucky's voice broke you from your self pity. "C'mere." His hand reached out to grab your wrist and tug you closer. "I'm not sitting on your lap, that's weird."

He scrunched his nose up and shook his head. "Doesn't have to be. Stop being a brat and let me comfort you."

Once you were sat on his right thigh with your side against him, he wrapped his arms around you and leaned his head back against the chair. "This should be our new bonding method. Feels like we're getting closer by the second."

You teetered your head back and forth, pressing your lips into a thin line. "Maybe because, I'm on your lap. That's pretty close."

A soft pat to your thigh and he was looking directly at you, blue eyes dancing back and forth in curiosity.

He wanted to know what made you so sad and torn up about one stupid date. "Tell me about it?"

You took another deep breath and he lifted his head so you could slip your arm behind his neck. "Every single time I go on a date, they mention sex. As soon as I tell them I'm a virgin they're gone. Tonight's was just extra rude about it."

His eyebrows creased together, hand moving to your knee. "You're a virgin? How?"

You looked at the ceiling, tapping a finger to your chin as if you were thinking. "Hm, could be from never having sex." You said the most obvious answer.

"No, I mean-" he huffed a laugh and gestured a hand over you. "Look at you."

You pinched his side and he narrowed his eyes at you. "I thought we told each other everything?" He mumbled, his lips turning down into a frown.

"No, James. You tell me everything. I don't tell you near as much." You said patting his chest, the chain of his dog tags cool on your palm. "You don't have to, I know a lot just by paying attention." He said, giving a nonchalant shrug.

"Now, explain, miss goody-two-shoes. Why hasn't anyone popped your cherry?"

You looked to your lap and pursed your lips. "When I was younger I never felt the need to lose it. Now, I can't seem to find a guy who doesn't want to have sex on the first date. I'm not losing it to someone I barely know."

When Bucky stayed silent you looked at him, he was chewing on the inside of his cheek and you could see the gears turning as he looked at you.

He wanted to offer his help, but didn't want to scare you away. That was the whole reason he hadn't said how he felt over the past couple of months.

Although, he wasn't sure how you never noticed. How you hadn't noticed the lingering touches and looks, everything he'd say.

You had waved it off as mindless flirting because that's how he played it off; as him being a flirt without any serious intentions.

"You're being quiet and it's weird. Say something." You said flicking the tip of his nose. "I'll do it. If you wanna lose it, I'll do it. I know a lot about you."

"Buck-" you shook your head, trying to wrap your head around what he was saying. "You can't be serious." You said breathing a soft laugh.

He nodded and his hand on your knee moved to the back of your thigh.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks as you looked at him, his strong features completely serious. "I'm gonna go to bed. Its late."

Just like Bucky thought would happen, he was scaring you away. "Wait- no, come back." He said as you pulled out of his grip and stood.

You shook your head and cleared your throat. "Nope, not coming back. I know you don't mean it because... You're Bucky and you say shit like that all the time, so..." You inhaled deeply and started towards the hallway. "I'm gonna go get ready for bed."

Bucky stood from the chair and followed after you. "Sugar, wait." He grabbed your wrist gently and tugged you towards him, nearly crashing you into his chest.

In a sudden movement, his hands held your cheeks and his lips engulfed yours, the abrupt motion causing you to stumble a step back; your hands flying up to grip the sides of his shirt.

The kiss was slow and deep, the taste of his minty toothpast flooding your tastebuds when he slipped his tongue pass your lips.

He pulled away after a moment, looking at your shocked expression. "I mean it."

[babymetaldoll]

Stargazing (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Requested: No, but I needed some hardcore fluff

Summary: The team is “forced” to go camping, and Spencer finally decides to make “his move” on Reader.

Pairing: Spencer Reid/ Reader

Category: Hardcore fluff

Warnings: Zero

Word count: 3,2K

Masterlist

-

-

It was the first time the BAU didn't argue Strauss's decision. She had walked into the conference room and explained to the team that the FBI had decided each department had to do a workshop related to teamwork and trust.

- "You will spend this weekend camping together. You will be part of a Team-Building Training Workshop"- Strauss wasn't excited about the idea of her best team wasting a whole weekend. But she was glad her department didn't have to do the activity. She hated camping.

- "Are you telling me we have to spend our weekend in sleeping bags, singing kumbaya?"- Rossi raised an eyebrow and looked at Erin, and she didn't move a muscle- "I'm out."

- "David, I'm not asking you if you want to do it. The whole team has to be part of this activity, that includes you."

- "Come on, Rossi,"- Prentiss smiled and tried to cheer him up- "It will be a nice change from catching serial killers for a weekend.

- "Really, Emily?"- Rossi crossed his arms on his chest and looked at Reid- "Hey, kid. How many dead bodies are found each year in the woods in the country?"

- "Over 2.543 last year,"- Spencer answered. And didn't stop talking, of course- "We can not be sure they were all serial killer related cases. The most common ways to die in the woods are drowning, car accident, and suicide."

- "Suicide it is."- David whispered. He knew it was going to be a long weekend.

Even when he wasn't a person who loved camping and outdoor activities, Spencer was excited to spend the weekend with the team, especially with (Y/N). His teammate, best friend, and secret crush. Ok, it wasn't really a secret.

Of course, everybody knew about Spencer's feelings. He never successfully hid them from the team. You didn't need to be a profiler to notice each time (Y/N) walked into a room, Reid's eyes would follow her, and his cheeks blushed. When they sat together in the jet, Spencer would always be too self-aware of his own movements. He would try not to move, especially when she had fallen asleep, resting her head on his shoulder. And when they were working on a case together, he would always cover her on the field, and he would make sure she was safe, even when the unsub was already caught.

He loved her. Even a blind man could see. Except for (Y/N), of course. Because according to her own words: "There's no way Spencer Reid is in love with me. He would never look at me that way. He is perfect, and I'm a mess. He deserves the perfect genius girl."

-

- "Ok, Romeo, this weekend is the perfect opportunity for you to make your move"- Derek and Reid were alone in the SUV on their way to the retreat.

- "Sure. Because there's no better time to make a fool out of myself than in front of all my friends in the middle of nowhere."

- "What's with the attitude, pretty Ricky? Relax"- Morgan frowned and put on some music, singing along for a moment. Reid looked at him and raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.

- "Ok man, picture this: you, your pretty lady, in the middle of the night, gazing at the stars together, alone in the middle of the forest. The full moon is the only light."

- "Who are you? since when are you a romance expert?"

- "Hey! I can be romantic!"

- "I've seen you get girls only by raising an eyebrow"- Reid argued, and he was right. It had happened once, but that was another completely different story.

- "What I'm trying to tell you is that you have the perfect chance to tell her how you feel during this trip"- Spencer was about to start debating that idea when Derek continued.

- "And stop saying she has no feeling for you!"

Reid bit his tongue and looked at the road. Neither of them said a word for the next couple of minutes. Until Spencer whispered

- "But she doesn't"

- "She does!!"- Derek nearly yelled

- "Why are you so sure?!"

- "Because she told Penelope she is in love with you!!"

The silence in the car was as intense as the red in Spencer's cheeks. Derek knew he shouldn't have said that, but he was tired of seeing his best friend's sad eyes each time he stared at (Y/N). Someone had to do something, and he knew neither of them would make the first move.

- "Are you sure?"- Reid's mouth was hanging open- "I mean, maybe she was joking."

- "No, she was honest. So please, this weekend, make your freaking move."

-

How could Spencer ever make his move? He had no idea. He didn't even have a "move"! But something inside of him felt a little more confident now.

That didn't show on the outside at all, 'cos during the whole day, he was more clumsy than ever. He dropped his coffee. He failed the first two attempts to set up his tent and nearly fell carrying logs for the fire.

He wanted to dig a hole and hid.

But (Y/N) didn't notice any of that. Not because she didn't pay attention, but because she was oblivious to any of those things. She just couldn't stop staring: He was wearing jeans. Spencer Walter Reid was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. (Y/N) thought she was going to have a heart attack when he got out of the car.

Sure, yes, she had seen him outside work in a more casual outfit, but nothing prepared her for Spencer's camping clothing. It suited him too well for his own good.

- "Hello? Anybody there?"- Prentiss waved at (Y/N). She and JJ stood in front of her, trying to catch her attention.

- "Jesus! you look like a schoolgirl today!"- JJ teased her, laughing- "Can you be more obvious?"

- "What are you talking about?"- (Y/N) tried to look all innocent and continued setting the logs for the campfire.

- "If Spencer wasn't so clueless about your feelings, I swear you two would be already married,"- Emily joked and helped (Y/N) with the logs. The young SSA just shook her head and tried to keep her eyes from Reid for as long as she could. She successfully did it for five minutes. That day's record.

- "(Y/N), hey"- he stood by her side, and she quickly stood up.

- "Hey, how are you doing?"

- "Good... you?"- she just nodded and smiled. She really was acting like a schoolgirl in front of Spencer- "Great... hey, I thought maybe tonight you would like to do some stargazing with me..."- Emily and JJ heard him and nearly squealed. They tried to look away, but it was impossible. They needed to know what was happening. Where was García? she was going to be so mad she missed that.

- "Yeah! I'm sure tonight we can see way more stars than on your building's roof like last time."

(Y/N) answered, smiling, thinking there was nothing more romantic than being underneath a starry sky, listening to Spencer talking about constellations.

- "Ok, kids,"- Rossi's voice stepping out of his huge camper interrupted them and forced everybody to turn around- "Let's do this trust thing we are forced to do before it's lunchtime. Maybe we can manage to go home early."

-

Of course, they weren't. The whole team had to work as a unit to fulfill a series of activities an expert team the FBI had hired forced them to do. Aaron thought it was unnecessary, considering they worked on the field together, and they trusted each other with their lives all the time. But he was also sure his team needed a break, and everybody could use some fresh air.

- "Great work, team"- Hotch hugged everybody and smiled when the whole activity was done- "I think we've earned a nice dinner."

- "Please don't tell me we have to hunt our food"- Penelope wide opened her eyes suddenly and looked at Hotch- "I can eat blueberries."

- "Don't worry, kids"- Rossi shook his head and pointed to his camper- "Anyone in the mood for a nice steak?"

- "I bought marshmallows for the campfire later,"- (Y/N) said and smiled- "You are never too old for some s'more."

- "Scary stories by the fire eating s'mores? I'm ten years old again"- JJ looked excited- "I need to do this with Henry."

- "Just don't tell him your "I'm scared of the woods because I found the camp director dead" story." - Derek said, smiling.

- "You freaked out!"- JJ chuckled, remembering how she had scared her friends a few years earlier while working on a case in the woods.

- "I need to hear that story!"- Emily said- "I bet it's no better than mine, I'm sure."

- "Battle of horror stories?"- (Y/N) smiled evilly- "You two have nothing on me."

-

The evening was fun and a little terrifying. Garcia was holding Derek's arm so tight it was starting to feel numb. Rossi and Hotch had told a couple of stories that left the team completely frightened, to be fair. Especially Spencer. He had forgotten an essential part of his plan: nights in the woods are dark as pitch. And he was afraid of the dark. How would he successfully take (Y/N) to a nice spot, sit down and stare at the stars with her if he was too scared to move from the fire?

(Y/N) looked at Reid and sighed. Maybe he had regretted it. Of course, he hasn't forgotten his invitation, 'cos Spencer remembered everything. Still, he hadn't made any move or sign to go stargazing. Being alone with him in the dark was scary but in the right way. Maybe she could finally tell him how she felt. No, no way. That wasn't going to happen.

- "Ok, so... it's late, and we are out of wine"- Rossi stood up and looked at the team- "I am ready to go to my comfy bed"- the rest of the team groaned. They were going to spend the night in a tent, probably freezing, while Rossi was going to be in his warm camper.

- "I'm going to sleep too, we have trekking in the morning, and it's going to be a long walk. I suggest you all go to bed early."- Hotch stood up and waved at the team, to then walk to his tent."

- "Sweet chocolate thunder, is there room in your tent for me?"- Penelope asked, and he chuckled immediately

- "Are you still scared of the stories? they are just made up things people create to terrify us."

- "I know. But I'm also scared of bears, psycho killers, and slender man"- Morgan looked at her, raising an eyebrow. She wasn't joking.

- "Bring your sleeping bag."

- "You are my hero. I love you."

Prentiss and JJ went to bed soon after, leaving the two love birds alone.

- "Stargazing?"- Reid whispered, and (Y/N) nodded- "We should find a darker stop... or we can stay here by the fire if you like."

- "Are we going to get a nice view here?"- (Y/N) looked at the stars and tried to see anything.

- "No, it has to be darker,"- Spencer whispered, taking a look around- "There was a nice spot by the cliff, that way."

- "I don't think walking to a cliff in the middle of the night is a good idea"- (Y/N) smiled, and Reid shook his head

- "You are right..."

- "But we can walk carefully and carry a flashlight,"- she added and smiled, looking at him. His brown curls moved with the wind, and his chocolate eyes were brighter than the sparks of fire next to them.

- "That sounds good."

Spencer stood still for a second. He had a blanket in one hand and a bag of marshmallows in the other. (Y/N) put on her scarf and jacket and stared at him.

- "Are you ok?"

- "Yeah."

He wasn't. He was trying to calm himself down, thinking that walking in the middle of the dark was worthy because it meant spending time alone with (Y/N).

He kept telling himself he didn't have to worry because nothing was going to happen. He wished he had his gun with him in case of any danger, though. Maybe that could make him feel better.

- "You can't kill darkness, stupid"- he whispered to himself and sighed. (Y/N) walked a step closer and took the marshmallow bag. Then, she held his hand.

- "Let's go?"

That was all Spencer needed. He was ready.

- "Did you know astronomy is the oldest of the sciences?- Reid whispered as they walked hand in hand to a nice clear spot - "Ancient astronomers were able to differentiate between stars and planets, as stars remain relatively fixed over the centuries while planets will move an appreciable amount during a comparatively short time."

- "And when did you start learning about the stars?"- Spencer loved that. How each time he started rambling, she wouldn't get annoyed like the rest of the people he knew. Instead, she would always ask him something related to the subject. And it was usually something personal. She wanted to learn more about him and how he had ended up being such an amazing human being.

- "When I was four, mom started taking me regularly to the library. That was when I started to learn more about science. I could pick ten books each time we were there, and I decided I wanted to know everything I could about everything I loved."

Spencer confessed and smiled, looking at her. His heart was warm with their conversations. He was never comfortable talking about his personal life, especially about his childhood. But with (Y/N), it all came naturally.

- "How often did she take you?"

- "Every other day"- she chuckled and remembered the pictures Diana had shown her of Spencer when he was a little kid last time they visited her. He was adorable, with his glasses and his messy hair. It was impossible not to imagine having a family with him.

- "This is it... this is a good spot."- Spencer said and stopped walking. He moved a log and tapped on it, smiling at (Y/N). She sat with him, and he wrapped them together with the blanket.

- "So, what am I staring at?"- (Y/N) asked and kept her eyes on the starry sky. It seemed she had never seen so many stars. And they even looked closer. Spencer looked at her, and his heart skipped a beat. He was about to start a lecture on astronomy, but instead, he decided to do "his move." Or the move he could think of. He didn't really know if it was a move, but he was going to give it a shot anyway.

- "Most stargazers learn about constellations looking for different noticeable patterns across the sky"- he made a pause clearing his throat. That was it. He was going to do it.

- "That's how it all started,"- he continued- "Some of these noticeable patterns up there are still the same ones our ancestors noticed while sitting around a campfire telling stories like we did today."

- "Telling stories about the stars sounds a lot less creepy, though" - (Y/N) whispered, and the two of them smiled- "Wanna tell me a story about these stars?"

There was no way Spencer could say not to her puppy eyes.

- "Ok... let's see..."- Reid sighed and thought for a moment, looking at the constellations above them- "Do you see those stars over there that look like a cute bunny?"

- "Which ones?"- Spencer pointed at the sky, and (Y/N) nodded- "I see them"

- "Well, you'll see, there was a comet in love with the bunny, but it could only look at her from a safe distance."- Spencer finally confessed. (Y/N) held her breath for a second and tried not to get her hopes high.

- "Why?"

- "Well, the comet was afraid he wasn't good enough for the bunny"- Spencer was whispering, and his soft voice sent shivers to (Y/N)'s body- "So he stared at his favorite constellation every day and only imagined what it would feel like to hold her in his arms."

- "And the bunny never saw the comet?"- (Y/N) asked softly, while very, very slowly, she moved her hand and reached Spencer's.

- "The bunny thought the comet just wanted to be her friend because he was scared to tell her how he felt,"

(Y/N) kept thinking there was no way on earth Spencer was telling her how he felt about her with that adorable story. Was he? Really? 'cos it was too romantic, and if he wasn't and she was wrong... it would be heartbreaking. But, there was only one way to find out.

- "I think the bunny felt the same, but she thought she wasn't good enough for the comet"- Spencer's heart raced at those words, and he turned to look at (Y/N). She blushed and stared at him with a shy smile.

- "Why would the bunny ever think that?"

- "The comet is too brilliant and too amazing to settle for a simple constellation when he could have the sun."

(Y/N) was embarrassed to confess those feelings, but it was now or never.

- "But the bunny is the sun in the comet's life."- Spencer whispered and caressed her cheek with his thumb carefully.

- "Really?"- her voice was so soft, it melted Spencer completely. He couldn't answer. All he could do was to lean in slowly and kissed her as gently as he could, enjoying the sensation of her lips against his. He cupped her face with both hands and moved a little closer.

It was the sweetest kiss he had ever given. It wasn't just because (Y/N)'s lips tasted like marshmallow, but because it was filled with pure love. He could feel it, even when he still couldn't believe it. She loved him. She really did.

(Y/N) was sure that wasn't really happening. She had probably fallen down the cliff earlier and was now unconscious or dead, living a fantasy. There was no way Spencer Reid was kissing her.

When they slowly moved and looked at each other, neither of them knew what to say. So (Y/N) did what she always dreamed of doing and leaned in and kissed him again. Spencer didn't hesitate and wrapped his arms around her waist, moving her closer to him. Her hands played shyly with some of the curls of his hair, and they simply kissed for what seemed to be forever, even when it wasn't enough time for them. Spencer felt he could kiss her his whole life, and he still wouldn't get enough of her.

- "So..."- (Y/N) whispered after some minutes and looked at Spencer, blushing- "Do you think the comet and the bunny could... maybe try to be more than friends?"

He smiled and kissed her again, rubbing her lips carefully with his; (Y/N) sighed into the kiss.

- "The comet is willing to do anything the bunny asks him because he just wants to make her happy all day, every day."

(Y/N) couldn't speak. She could only kiss him again and again.

- "Bunny just wants her comet to be happy too."

- "Then would Bunny be the comet's girlfriend?"- she giggled and nodded- "Good, because I don't think I could ever live without your kisses ever again, Bunny."

- "Neither do I, Comet"

And after that, stargazing was forgotten. There were enough stars in their kisses to keep the two of them lost in their own new universe. 

[korasonata]

I had someone last time ask me about time stamps, so all of these from this point out will have the time stamp at the top of each set of quotes. I am currently in the process of retrieving the time stamps for the previous 5 posts, and will link an updated version when I have retrieved them all.

Link to the video is here: https://m.twitch.tv/videos/1149389841

Favourite moments of Joe and Cleo model streams part 6!

(I am very sorry I tried very hard to make this not as long as it is. There will probably be another extended cut post because there was just SO much happening in this stream)

—

00:00:57

Cleo: Welcome to the stream. Mine and/or Joes. Or, both.

Joe: Yay!

Cleo: I suppose that’s what the “and” means. In that statement. That would make sense. Glue pot’s ready—

Joe: It makes sense to me.

Cleo: …that makes me even more nervous that it makes sense to you, Joe. Not gonna lie.

—

00:16:34

Joe: So, anyway, last night at dinner, uh, like I— I had put this interview on while I was cooking and I kinda left it on as my daughter sat down for dinner and I was like “hey, this is an interview with this very famous journalist from about 50 years ago. Uh, he’s got a really interesting voice and a really interesting cadence, and I wanna kind of listen to it so I can— maybe copy it as like a joke in one of my videos.” And my daughter listens to it for about a— a minute—

Cleo: And then says “now that’s— is that you?”

Joe: *laughing* She just turns to me and she’s like “my friend…her parents got her…did you know they make crayon applesauce now? It says crayola. It tastes. Like they’ve blended a brown crayon. And sprinkled it on top.”

Cleo: That sounds grim.

Joe (prideful laughing): And it just kind of matches the cadence while also talking about something terrible to ingest?*laughing* And I just start cracking up because like— *laughing continues* she gets it! And she’s just like “why are you laughing?” Because you just— you nailed it! You nailed the pauses, you— you nailed the subject matter, like this is— this is just great!! And she’s like “no! This is a real thing! This crayon applesauce is terrible!” And I’m just laughing and laughing and she’s like trying to explain why it’s not good, and I’m like “I understand why it’s not good, but—“

Cleo (reading chat): “Joe’s daughter is awesome.” I think you’re probably correct. Joe’s daughter is indeed awesome.

Joe: Yeah, I’m very very happy with my daughter. (Reading chat) What was for dinner? Well not crayola applesauce!

—

Cleo (in response to someone complimenting her 3rd Life videos): Awe! Thank you joytobake, that’s really nice! I am…always pleased when people like my personality. Because I’m never sure that people should, you know?

Joe: Yeah, that’s— that’s what we were talking about— I think before we started streaming, was like, Cleo really gets me, and that’s a huge red flag.

Cleo: That’s a— yeah. As a human being. Understanding Joe - massive red flag. Huge. This is a danger. To everybody. And particularly Joe.

Joe: It’s the terror of being truly known.

—

00:47:08

Joe: Up until this point I didn’t show the instructions, but now I feel like I have to.

Cleo: Because otherwise people are going to judge your competency?

Joe: Yeah! They’re gonna go “ok. Any idiot can figure out how these pieces go together” but if you look at these instructions, that’s not true. I’m a spectacular idiot, and I have no idea what I’m doing with these.

Cleo: I mean. I want— I want to confirm. Yes. Spectacular.

Joe: Yes. Thank you Cleo.

Cleo: *snicker* You’re welcome Joe. I always like to insult the people I care about the most.

Joe (quietly): I know…I appreciate it.

Cleo (Watching chat): I’m waiting for Cam to confirm that.

(Cam in chat: She insults me SO MUCH, she called me a gibbon last night…)

—

00:59:42

Joe: *reading tips*

Cleo (reading chat): “you can’t stop Joe when he’s on a role.” This is true.

Joe (not paying attention): *still reading tips*

Cleo: I mean you can, you just have to go: Joe. Joe. JOE. And then he stops sometimes.

Joe (quietly, but with emphasis): WHAAAAAAAAAAT??!?

Cleo: I’M DOING A THING!

—

01:00:46

Joe (reading tips): “This is an encouragement donation for more of you singing in the future.” Ooo, I think Cleo would like that because the future is not now.

—

01:02:23

Cleo (genuine singing): Ground control to major Tom…

Joe: *listening in awe*

Cleo: …That’s…pretty much all I know…

Joe: Oh, I was gonna let you keep going, I— I wanted to hear more.

Cleo: Oh no. That’s pretty much all I know.

Joe: But yeah. Hypothermic haddoc writes (singing) “tell my wife I love her very much!” …I was waiting for you to jump in with the (singing) “she knoooooows!”

Cleo: Again. Again, I don’t know the song very well.

Joe: Oh. And here I am sitting in my tin can—

—

01:47:54

Cleo: *leaves to get a drink*

Joe: While you’re getting your drink I guess I’ll provide some musical entertainment.

SILENCE

Joe: …I don’t have anything prepared. So, let’s see…do we have any birthdays? *laughing* if it’s anybody’s birthday I’ll sing to you while Cleo’s gone.

Cleo: I’m back.

Joe: Oh ok. Well, sorry birthday boys. And girls.

Cleo: feel free to sing to people. I’m sure people want that.

Joe: no…well, I was gonna do it while you were away cause I need to get up and get my drink as soon as you’re back.

Cleo: Oh, go and get a drink and I will sing happy birthday—

Joe: So I’m gonna go get my drink, I’ll be right back.

Cleo: —to people who have chosen to spend their birthday…here…I’m not judging, uh, but— (upbeat singing) Happy Birthday to you! You smell like a zoo! (Talking) …uh, etcetera etcetera… (Singing) I forgot how this song goes! Nevermind it sucks to be you! *blows a raspberry*

—

01:49:09

Cleo: I mean it’s Cams birthday on Saturday, and I will sing to Cam on his birthday. His birthday is not today. I mean he probably wants me to not sing to him on his birthday, to be fair—

[Cam: Please don’t sing to me]

Cleo: —but you know, I might do it anyway. Cause it’s obnoxious. And I will laugh. (Reading chat) “Happy Birthday! Here’s some genocide! Please don’t sing to me…” *laughing* I won’t sing to you if you don’t want me to, Honey.

[Cam: Not happy birthday at least lol]

Cleo: I might torture you in other ways though.

—

01:50:55

Cleo: Hiiiiii Jooooooe.

Joe: Hello! Joe Hiws hewe! I am back fwom my dwink bweak!

Cleo: …what is that voice?

Joe (in a Kermit the Frog/Swedish Chef/Yoda hybrid of an accent): I feewl wike it’s fwom home star wunner or something, I don’t know! It’s almost Kermit THe Fwog Hewe, but not quITe!

*Cleo laughing*

It’s a little— (Normal voice) I dunno. I still had some of my drink in my throat, so I was like— I didn’t wanna like accidentally cough it out on the microphone as soon as I started talking. So I was just like (weird voice continues) I’ll do thIS vOIce

*Squealing giggling from Cleo*

(Same iteration of previous accent now blended somehow with the voice of Goofy from Micky Mouse) It’ll keep my mOUth in a shape that if I start— me coughing up a dwink it’ll just go into the chEEks on EIther sIde. It’s a natuwal, uh bARRier against, uh, hydration escapism! Uh yuh!!

Cleo: *giggles* Ok Joe. Ok.

Joe: *high pitched laughing* I don’t know Cleo! I’m just gonna keep making noises until people give me money! It’s jus— it’s how I pay rent.

Cleo: *laughing* Making noises until people give you— ahhhh…..

Joe: Yeah

Cleo: — actually…..yeah. Yeah. Yeah…Um (reading chat) “it’s drunk Kermit” *wheezing*

Joe (drunk Kermit The Frog voice): It’s 5:00 somewhere!

Cleo: *laughing* thanks for this. I needed— I needed this moment of— of— whatever this was.

—

01:53:54

Joe: So my daughter said the most Wednesday Adams thing to me the other day—

Cleo: Oh no

Joe: Except she didn’t do the deadpan delivery. She was very upbeat about this. So apparently “UP” has, on Dinsey+ a series of shorts about the old man and the dog. Right? And they’re called something like “a Dougs Life” cause Doug is the name of the dog

Cleo: yeah.

Joe: and she goes “oh! And it’s short! Like a dogs lifespan!”

SILENCE

Cleo: …Your…kid is very much your kid, you know that right?

Joe (proud dad): I know right?!

—

01:58:20

Cleo: I mean…you’d kill it at the Met Galla. Not gonna lie.

Joe (excited): Oh my god— I wanna get one of those Manuel suits that has like all the rhinestones and the flowers on it? Um, but, you know, like, those are very expensive.

Cleo: We live with what we can afford. Maybe someone can make you a Diamond encrusted suit that you can wear on camera. And have all the sparkles as green.

Joe (very excited): Oh my gosh— actually— so—

02:20:45

Joe: Meanwhile in my Discord everyone’s posting what they describe as “eye searingly beautiful” lime green wedding dresses. For my next wedding. Um—

Cleo: *snicker* is that what you’re wearing for your next wedding?

Joe: you know, honestly at this point I don’t wanna make any assumptions about anything.

Cleo: *cackling*

—

02:31:07

(This is context for the next one)

Cleo (reading chat): “some people have too much time on their hands” I mean, I personally would not drive 8 hours to see— um…

Joe: …me?

Cleo: I dunno, I might drive 8 hours to see you.

Joe: I offered to drive 8 hours to see you when you were coming to Disney and you said no, so I’m gonna assume that you would not drive 8 hours to see me.

Cleo: I mean, I— li— the key word there was “might”. I wou— I would have to have my mini frea— well I was freaked out at that point. When you offered, and and I was just like “oh god no.” Because, you know, social anxiety is a thing.

Joe: Mhm. I’ve heard of that.

Cleo: Yeah. And I do not do well particularly meeting people for the first time, even people I’ve known for a while. I go very very quiet and umm…I think it’s worse actually with people that I’ve known for a while? Um, online, um…because— cause my brain goes “well you’re gonna make a s—your, your— your going to do something and say something stupid. You going— they’re gonna hate you in real life” um…so, yeah. My brain absolutely freaked out at that moment.

—

02:34:12

Cleo: But, you know, like I say, I get hate mail on the regular, it’s fine. I mean part of that is daring to be a woman on the Internet, but only part. The other part is the fact that I’m also an awful human being. So, you know.

SILENCE

Cleo: …the silence isn’t doing— the silence doesn’t do you— do me any favours Joe.

Joe: Well, you know, I didn’t wanna talk over you when you’re sharing your insecurities.

Cleo: yeah….

Joe: That seems rude.

Cleo: I mean—

Joe: So I wanted to make sure you were done.

Cleo: no no no no, that’s fine. I’m always done Joe.

Joe: And nOW I can actually tell you how I really feel.

Cleo: No, please don’t. Not onl— no. That will— that will make me even more uncomfortable.

Joe (upbeat singing): The praise train is on its way!! Choo choo!!

Cleo: Noooooooooooooooooo!! Nooo!!

Joe: For Cleo it’s her day!! Choo choo!!

Cleo: *noises of distress*

Joe: Cleo is really great!! Choo choo!! Choo choo!!

Cleo: *distressful crying*

Joe: She’s not merely ok!! She doesn’t have to be the best at talking to people for the first time!! Cause they’ll love her anyway!! And sometimes they’ll even rhyyyme!! Yay for Cleo!!

Cleo: *physically going through a full body cringe* noooo

Joe: See, it would have been rude if I did that in the middle of your thing.

Cleo: *sob laughing*

Joe: That would not have been socially acceptable.

Cleo (through tears): I’m not even sure it was socially acceptable now.

Joe: WHY NOT?!

Cleo: (sobbing and laughing simultaneously) I hate you so much.

—

02:38:05

Cleo (reading chat): “We all need a Joe in our life, who sings a theme song for us when we’re talking ourselves down” I’m not sure you do.

Joe: Yeah, that wasn’t really a theme song? Like, if I was gonna do a theme song for Cleo—

Cleo (with immense dread): Oh no…no…no…

—

02:43:07

Joe: I’d just like to point out (very obnoxiously high pitched voice) That this is Cleo’s average person voice, which means that 50% of people have an even higher pitched voice!

Cleo: …You know, I can’t actually stab Joe through the Internet. And I’ve always been upset about that.

—

02:53:36

Joe (with all the enthusiasm of a 16 year old girl gossiping at a slumber party): Ooo I wanna ask Cleo about giiiiiirls!!!

Cleo: Ask me about girls! I’m— I’m happy for you to ask me about girls.

Joe: Ok, so, do you— do you feel comfortable saying what your specific, uh, type of woman is? I’m— I’m curious about that.

Cleo: Um, it’s— it’s nerdy girls? Specifically. Umm…not too, um…you know, the kind of running, climbing, you know— sort of— person. You know, it’s— it’s the sort of— it’s the sort of— action girl kinda thing. I kinda like that type. That’s sort of my type.

Joe: Mhm. Yeah, like—

Cleo: Why, what’s your type of girl?

Joe: Well, uh, usually it’s somebody that is— very anti authority— un— un— dissatisfied with the status quo. So usually more punk, or that sort of thing.

Cleo: Yeah. That’s— that’s— that sort of plays into the action girl sort of thing as well. Yeah I get that. So yeah.

Joe: yeah, umm, you— yeah so I don’t know. Um— so not necessarily, uh, as focused on the athleticism element there, but I know like—

Cleo: Well it’s not really athleticism, it’s— it’s more— it’s more—

Joe: —in terms of like, um, hiking, cause like, uh, you know in college there’s like a climbing and camping club or whatever—

Cleo: Oh yeah, it’s not that sort of person. It’s— it’s more, um…getting out and having a go at things. Like, you know, not— not being afraid to—

Joe: Adventurous

Cleo: Yeah! Adventurous! That’s the word!

—

Cleo (whispering): I don’t know where this bit goes! *gasp* it goes over there!

Joe (whispering): You can do it!

Cleo: I can do it! I believe in me!

Joe: You’ll find a place to glue it! It doesn’t necessarily have to be the right place!

Cleo: I know!

Joe: You’re equally valid regardless!

Cleo: Thanks Joe!

Joe: You’re welcome!

Cleo: It’s appreciated!

[xpeachesncream]

bands | five

[ series masterlist ]

summary: jeon jungkook has it all: the looks, the fame, the money, the women. being considered the sexiest man in the industry, he finds no complaints about the way his life is going nor does he find any reason to apologize for the way he approaches it. he is a force to be reckoned with - until he meets you.

pairing: stripper!reader x idol!jjk

genre: (18+) strip club/nightlife au, post grad au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 3.2k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, implied nudity/nudity (at the nightclub), teasing, sprinkle of breast touching, alcohol consumption, pole dancing, straddling/lap dances, slight degradation/implied degradation, rough handling, flashback scene

note: took a stab at this jungkook one shot + wips are updated!

tags: @brightcolorsoffendme @min-nicoleee @eggbutnotyolk @ra-mun-e @miinoongi@ephemeralkookie @ppeachyttae @thebeebi @bluesharksandfish @kooafraid @liriaus​ @thisartemisnevermisses​ @ggukkieland​ @preciouschimine​ @sunniejinnie​ (please message me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

'Do better' is exactly what Jungkook does, because he wants you, and he wants you bad. He thought he had you wrapped around his finger, when in fact, you had him wrapped around yours and he was crumbling by the minute. It's a little entertaining to you, seeing his name pop on your phone throughout the day with texts like:

[jungkook]: have a good day today, pretty lady.

[jungkook]: :)

[jungkook]: can't stop thinking about you and how good you looked last night.

[jungkook]: hope you aren't overworking yourself.

[jungkook]: can i call you tonight?

You would chuckle every single time, seeing him weak for you. You weren't gonna lie - you were fucking weak for him too, cause lord, who wouldn't be with Jungkook? The only difference is that you were just the stronger one between the both of you.

Ha, ain't shit but a hairflip. You for sure got this from your mama.

"To the club for Yoongi hyung's birthday!" Taehyung yells after they finish rehearsals for the next set of performances scheduled to happen in the next week and filming some content for Youtube.

"To the club-club!" Namjoon responds, throwing his hat back on.

"Excited to see some pretty girls shaking their ass and titties in my face." Yoongi lets out a cocky laugh.

"No private show?"

"No, hell no. I want 'em all." Yoongi smirks. "Jungkookie is the only one who loves his private shows."

"Yeah, yeah." Jungkook brushes it off with a chuckle.

"Are we finally gonna figure out who she is tonight?"

"Nope. She's not working tonight. Good try." He feels relieved saying that because to be honest, he's feeling completely and utterly selfish with you. He didn't wanna share, not with the guys. Hell no.

Except he's gonna have to tonight and he has yet to learn that.

» FLASHBACK

Jimin had just solidified the plans with Yoongi a couple of hours ago, learning that he wanted to head to the strip club for his birthday. And yeah, everyone has their own favorites. Everyone has their own agenda coming to the club. But, Yoongi says he wants to shut down the club for the evening so all 7 of them can enjoy the general floor together.

So, Jimin makes it a goal to grant Yoongi's wishes, but he also has another thing on his mind.

He had been picking up on Jungkook's little habits lately, even though he was notorious for always being on his phone and for barely paying attention to the environment around him. Jimin just knew he had it bad for you, miss new girl, simply by how his mood would change whenever he looked at his phone. How he was always at the club. How he always got shy and beat around the bush whenever you were brought up.

He just knew.

And to be honest, he was concerned. Moreso for Jungkook and his safety. Jungkook and his feelings. Things didn't sit right for him, and he worried that you were only out for his money. For his fame. For the attention. For all the wrong things. And he didn't like that shit one bit. He wasn't gonna let anyone take advantage of his little brother like that, he wouldn't give anybody the chance.

He wants to figure out who exactly you were. He wants to find out what you're all about. He wants to finally meet you face to face.

"Mr. Park Jimin!" Mr. Bigs says with a loud laugh. Jimin gives him a small smile as he tugs the brim of his hat down and approaches him. "How can I help you?"

"Yoongi's birthday is coming up at the end of the week, is it possible to shut the club down so the rest of the guys can enjoy the general stage together?" He pulls out an envelope and hands it to Mr.Bigs, his smile getting bigger the more he counts all the dollar bills inside.

"Whatever works for my boys." He laughs.

"Thanks." Jimin chuckles. "Uh, one more thing - if it's not too much of a bother, could I request a specific dancer to be out on the floor that night?"

"Yeah, of course you can. Who's the lady we're thinking of?"

"Whoever Jungkook's lady is." Mr. Bigs laughs so more and nods.

"Ah, I'm assuming he wants her there, huh? He really loves watching that young lady, but hey, whatever works and makes ya'll happy right?"

"Yeah, I suppose he does. I'd like to keep the request between us though." Jimin lies.

"Don't you worry about it. I'll make sure Phoenix is there that night. I'll have all of this covered so Mr. Min Yoongi has a fantastic birthday." He winks.

"Thanks, sir. We'll see you then." Jimin nods his head before heading out. Mr. Bigs waits until Jimin is out the door before pulling out his phone to give you a call.

"Hello?"

"You need to be here Friday, special request."

"From who? Can't I just take the—"

"Stop questioning me little girl, you hear me? Your ass better be here on Friday or else I'm taking a chunk out of your fucking tips and check." He abruptly ends the call.

» END FLASHBACK

And so the infamous Bangtan Sonyeondan boys are dressed, whipping out their cleanest, black attires from their closets. They take a couple of shots back to back before they're loading into their cars to be driven to the strip club. The club is empty, except for a few body guards, bar staff and the dancers.

"Oh shit, we get our own private show? Like actually?" Yoongi says, stepping into the empty club that was more than ready for the boys' arrival. There were topless dancers waiting alongside the stage with trays filled with different drinks and shots.

"Happy birthday, hyung." Jimin says, playfully massaging his shoulder.

"God, this is such a good way to end the day." Namjoon takes a shot from one of the beautiful ladies near the general stage. He smirks at her as he eyes her up and down, licking his lips when he realizes how fucking skimpy the bikini bottom she has on actually is. "Sheesh."

"Boys!" Mr. Bigs' deep voice comes from the other end of the club as he approaches them. "Please, enjoy and help yourself to whatever you like. Happy Birthday, Mr. Min Yoongi." He winks.

"Thank you, sir!" Yoongi yells as he grabs another shot from the tray. The rest of the boys follow suit, taking more drinks and eyeing the ladies around them, but Jungkook helps himself to a seat in the front of the general stage.

"Someone misses his private lady." Hobi jokes, causing him to shake his head.

"Whatever, as long as I don't have to share her with you guys." He spits out. "What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine." Jungkook finishes jokingly with his infamous line. It seems like a full house of dancers tonight, either on the sidelines or now entering the general stage. Jungkook rests his foot on his knee, ready to get the night started so he can enjoy, but also hurry on home afterwards to try and hear your voice.

But you were in the back room of the club.

No one really knew what was going on outside unless you had been outside already. Mr. Bigs gave you all a pep talk saying each and every single one of you needed to be on your best behavior, especially out on the floor. Bigs and his men refused to name the special guests just so none of you would psych yourselves out and mess up. You didn't know you were soon going to be catering to the BTS boys together, and Jungkook didn't know you were going to be one of the main dancers on stage either. His eyes were glazing over the rest of the girls on stage because they weren't you, to be honest. I mean, hell. It's always nice to be around topless, beautiful women. But he had gotten so used to seeing you. Your face. Your body. Touching you. Smelling your strawberry scent.

Jimin situates himself next to Jungkook, the rest of the group aligning themselves along the seats in front of the stage. He eyes Jungkook, taking note of how uninterested and bored he was - so bored that he even caught him trying to hide his yawn. Maybe he was just tired, as with everyone else, but that just meant his special lady friend wasn't out yet.

"You three, up. Now." Bigs says, coming into the backroom from the floor, pointing his finger towards the curtains. "Phoenix, remember. Don't throw no stupid ass attitude out there, playing hard to get like you're some kind of queen." He scoffs in disgust before dismissing the three of you. You roll your eyes, already highly irritated being there since it was originally your day off and no one wanted to give you answers as to why you needed to be there. Mr. Bigs had almost all the dancers out here to tonight, why the fuck would he need you?

The lights are off for a quick second before they dimly shine onto the stage, the music playing loudly in the background. You step onto the stage, your eyes instantly landing on the man front and center.

Jungkook.

You swallow the lump in your throat seeing the rest of the boy band around him, already smirking and licking their lips at the sight of you and the two other dancers on the stage. Jungkook adjusts himself in his seat, fixing his jacket as he sits upright to lean forward onto his knees. His eyes are glued onto you, almost like he's confused as to why you're here right now.

Why you're giving him and his boys a show.

Jimin catches Jungkook's slight uneasiness, his gaze following Jungkook's onto the stage. His eyes were set on you, the pretty lady swirling her body around the silver pole in the middle of the stage.

"She's fucking beautiful." Yoongi says, immediately getting up and reaching into the inner breast pocket of his jacket to pull out some bills. He stands in the front, almost blocking Jungkook's view of you. He catches Yoongi placing a couple of hundreds under the bottom portion of your fishnet bodysuit. The bodysuit that captured your curves so perfectly - thighs thick and full, ass cheeks popping out of the thong portion, your titties and pussy very visible through the fishnet material. God, you were a fucking beauty. Jungkook watches as you squat in front of Yoongi, bouncing up and down before you get up scandalously and shake your ass in front of his eyes. "Ohhhh shit." Yoongi bites onto his bottom lip as he laughs and tucks more bills near your thigh.

"It's his birthday!" Hobi yells, causing you to smirk at Yoongi and grab his hand to let him feel up on your breast. Jungkook shifts in his seat, a little envious of how Yoongi was able to touch you in that way before he was able to. Like fuck? Could it be my birthday too? Could it be my birthday everyday? He was never gonna let this one go. He continues to watch as you push Yoongi back onto his chair and give him a birthday lapdance.

"Happy birthday." You say softly in his ear before getting back up on the stage to do some tricks on the pole.

One, two: Turn upside down.

Three, four: Wrap them legs around.

Five, six: Treat the pole like a slip and slide.

Seven, eight: Flip back up and slide back down.

"Damn, it's my birthday over here too." Jin says tapping his lap and tossing a roll of bills near you before looking over at Taehyung. He's also throwing bills onto the stage, but he's focused on the other main lady off to the side. Still doesn't mean he isn't throwing bills your way either, cause he is every chance he gets to look over at you.

"Like what you see?" Jimin jokes with Jungkook.

"Yeah." Is all he says as he's approaching you. He gives you this look, which you don't understand what it means, but you didn't have the time to decipher it right at this moment. You watch Jungkook closely, his mouth pressed tightly together as his eyes are still scanning your entire body before he brings them back up to meet your eyes. You crawl towards him seductively, your fingers lightly brushing down his neck before you gently tug on his jacket. He doesn't say anything as he tucks bills near your titties, giving you one last look before sitting back down in his seat.

The main show comes to an end pretty quickly afterwards, other dancers making their way to the poles if they wanted or kept serving the boys whatever they needed. You hop off the stage, collecting your bills and folding them tightly together, tucking it deep on the side of your breast to keep it hidden. You head outside to get some air because what the fuck just even happened? You weren't expecting that whatsoever, even though you knew better than that. You should have always thought there would be a chance you'd have to do what you just did. You should have always been prepared.

"Lil mama, you looked good dancing up there in that tiny ass suit you got on." One of the men in Bigs' crew said as they lingered outside the backroom door, smoking cigarettes. "What do you say? Wanna come home with me so I can help get that off?" He smirks, approaching you.

"I'm only out here to get some air, please don't come up to me with all that bullshit." You spit out, causing the guy to furrow his brows at you.

"This one's got a little fire in her." He laughs, coming closer to you. "Whatchu gonna do if I don't take no for an answer, miss thang?" He grips your wrist tightly. You try to break free, but after tonight, you were too fucking tired to even deal with his stupid shit. "Oh, she's weak now?" He grips tighter, making you wince as you try to pry him off. He brings you closer, his face inches away from yours - so close you can smell the smoke and alcohol mixed together, coming off of his breath. Suddenly, you hear someone clear their throat behind them, their attention going from you to the individual. "Oh shit, it's Jeon Jungkook." You watch as the man lets you go, Jungkook standing there with his hands in his pockets and jaw clenched. He doesn't say anything besides nod to acknowledge them. "Big fan, dude."

"The fuck? I had my private show scheduled with Phoenix almost 10 minutes ago. You guys have been holding her up?" Jungkook is obviously throwing on an angry act because you didn't have any private shows booked tonight.

"Shit, my bad. I didn't know—"

"You didn't know cause you were too busy being a jackass?"

"Mr. Jeon, no disrespect here. I'm sorry I took time away from your show. Please, take whatever time you need with her - on me." He says, his friends silently standing by as they throw their cigarettes and go back inside.

"Yeah, it should be on you for fucking wasting my time." Jungkook doesn't say anything else, but he does glare at him until he's almost tripping over himself making his way back inside the club. "You okay?" Jungkook asks, coming closer.

"Yeah. Thanks." You rub your hand up and down your arm, the cold air nipping at your skin.

"I thought you said you weren't working tonight."

"I wasn't supposed to. Bigs just told me I was requested to be here tonight." You raise your eyebrow. "Wait, how did you not know? I thought it was—"

"You thought it was me that requested for you?" He chuckles. "Funny that you think I'd share you with the guys."

"Sooo?"

"I don't know." He shrugs. "Maybe he just wanted his best dancers to be here."

"Hm." You slightly smirk at the compliment. "Best dancers, huh?" He rolls his eyes and playfully sighs.

"Yeah, don't milk it." A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

"You gonna be here all night?"

"Possibly since it's Yoongi's birthday." You nod. He stays silent as he looks at you for a bit, his head slightly cocked to the side.

"So does he get a pass for tonight?" Jungkook chuckles and shakes his head.

"Only cause it's his birthday."

"Mm, not even because he's your senior or anything of the sort?"

"Nah." He smiles a bit. "Not at all. I hope you know I'll never forget it."

"Please, I didn't know Jeon Jungkook was a drama actor, too. What can't he do?" You sarcastically say.

"Okay, say whatever you want." He kicks the dust below his shoes as he lightly chuckles with you. It's silent again, but it's a calming silence. There's no awkward vibes or anything of that matter. You begin to rub your arms again, the cold nipping at your skin harshly. "You should get back inside, it's freezing." He watches you shiver in front of him. He isn't sure if he should hand you his jacket, even if he does want to help you out in the slightest bit, but he figures he shouldn't since you still needed to finish your shift.

"Okay." Your expression softens. "See you in there?" He silently nods, watching your hips sway back and forth until you're deeper in the club. The night doesn't end for everyone until a little bit past 2, close to 3am. You're hauling your tired ass back home, Kai struggling and barely making it alive as soon as you walk through your front door.

"Jesus fuck, thank god." He shuts the TV off and covers his entire body with the blankets.

"Kai, I told you that you didn't have to wait."

"Well until you're out of the club, this is my life now." Why was everyone so dramatic tonight? You chuckle to yourself.

"Okay, if you say so. Night bubba."

"Night." He yawns. In about 2 seconds, he's back to snoring loudly, causing you to laugh to yourself as you get ready for bed.

[jungkook] 3:14am: home?

[y/n] 3:17am: yes. you?

Maybe Kai didn't have to stay up for you after all.

[jungkook] 3:23am: yeah.

[jungkook] 3:24am: i'm assuming you had a really long day today so sleep well, Y/N. can i call you tomorow?

[y/n] 3:20am: you can, i don't know if i'll answer though. :) goodnight jungkook.

And so Jungkook smiles to himself before grabbing a water and heading back to his dorm room. He was slowly getting used to your sarcasm and attitude, being that he has never had to deal with someone being this way towards him. It was fun, and new.

"So was your lady actually there tonight?" Taehyung asks with Jimin sitting next to him.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Jungkook scrunches his nose before turning on his heel to walk away.

"Wow, Jungkookie is being selfish. Namjoon hyung go scold him." Namjoon laughs.

"Jungkookie don't be selfish." Joon says nonchalantly just to keep Taehyung happy.

"Yeah, yeah." He shuts himself in his room to get ready for bed. Jimin silently sits next to Taehyung as they relive the night's events before going to bed. He had seen you and Jungkook talking outside, which only solidifies his assumption.

And he was onto you.

i'm good on that pussy shit; i don't want what i can get, i want someone with secrets that nobody, nobody, nobody knows

track six: gangsta - kehlani

[lilliagradiewrites]

go get her, kid. (peter parker)

Summary: Peter Parker is hopelessly in love with Tony Starks’ teenage daughter, and Stark encourages him to shoot his shot.

WC: 7.4k (holy shit)

Warnings: Bad language, , really nothing else. A lot of cute peter and a painful amount fluff. A tiny bit of angst too.

A/N: I found myself watching Tom Holland interview clips today and I just couldn’t help myself. Here we are: my first peter parker/ spiderman one shot! I have some Harry and Jj pieces in the works, so keep eyes out for that!

LET’S DO IT!!!

--------

Peter  found himself in this position far too often. Staring at you shamelessly while you worked away at whatever was on your desk, usually a school assignment or some tech project. His crush had been going on for quite some time, but it was getting more and more difficult to hide.

You and Peter had been best friends ever since your dad first recruited him. Something clicked between the two of you, causing an instant friendship. As time went on, you grew closer and closer to the superhero, and he quickly became your best friend. You began surrounding yourself with his friends without even realizing it, becoming close with Ned and MJ almost instantly. They were great people, and you loved being around them, but something about Peter was just different. Your energies matched perfectly for some reason. He got your humour, liked the same things as you, plus he was a great conversationalist and an even better listener. Some of your favorite memories were made with Peter.

Despite knowing practically everything about the boy, you were completely oblivious about his huge crush on you. Ned was the only person who truly knew, though many other people had their suspicions. The Avengers had an idea about it, considering you were what he talked about 90 percent of the time. MJ could tell because of the way he looked at you. When he looked your way, his pupils enlarged, his cheeks went pink, and the look on his face was entirely lovey-dovey. It was so obvious just in the way he gazed at you when you spoke.

He was looking at you in that way now, though you weren’t aware. He was meant to be studying (it was the whole reason he came over to your house, or at least that’s the reason he told you), but he couldn’t bring himself to care about chemistry homework when you looked so damn beautiful. Your hair was pulled back into a low ponytail keeping it away from your face as you worked. Your hands flew across the keyboard on your laptop, typing out something Peter probably wouldn’t understand. He was smart, sure, but you were intelligent in a different way. You were insightful and observant, you got things other people couldn’t begin to process. Your brain understood things in a different capacity than most. Peter assumes you got this trait from your father, who was the exact same way.

“What’re you typing? Something for school?”

You nodded, your attention not wavering from the laptop screen. “Yeah, an assignment for AP Lit.”

“Oh, that one project you told me about? With the essay and the powerpoint?”

You nodded again. “Mhm.”

Peter furrowed his brows, moving off your bed to come stand near you at your desk in an attempt to get a better look at what you were working so eagerly on. “I thought that project wasn’t due for another month.

“It’s not. I had an idea for the essay, and I figured if I get started early, I have more time to edit and perfect it.”

“You’re such a perfectionist.” Peter says with a light chuckle, looking at the state of your desk. It was both chaotic and organized at the same time. Pens, highlighters, pieces of paper, a book with annotations scribbled in the margins, notebooks with neat class notes printed inside of them in your pretty handwriting. They were all scattered about the surface, but Peter knew you well enough to know that there was always a method to your madness. As you observed longer, he realized that all of the items were in different sections on your desk, based on categories and subjects. He smiled lightly, realizing that this messy but technically neat surface was probably a very accurate representation of what goes on in your mind.

You finished the paragraph you were typing with a flourish, a satisfied smile resting on your lips. “There. I have a basic outline done for the essay portion. Obviously, I’ll have to go back and add a little more and elaborate on the points, but the basics are there.”

Peter glanced up at your laptop screen. His eyes were met with a never ending sea of typed out words. He smiled; this was so you. Your ‘outline’ is another student's essay doubled.

“You’re gonna write more than that?”

You looked back at him, and he saw your face for the first time during the encounter. His cheeks went slightly pink at the sight of you, and he prayed that you didn’t notice.

You didn’t, or perhaps you just didn’t say anything. You continued on with the conversation without skipping a beat, and relief washed over Peter because of this.

“Of course I am.” You stated with furrowed brows, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This is so boring and basic, and has no detail whatsoever. Anybody who reads the summary of the book online could write this. I want my teacher to know that I thoroughly read and understood the novel, you know? I don’t want to submit some surface-level shit, I want to really pick apart the undertones of and the meaning behind the story.”

Peter nods, pretending to understand what you meant. He’d barely been paying attention to the words you were saying, too encapsulated with your beautiful eyes to do so. You turned back around towards your work, causing your best friend to snap out of his trance-like state.

“Do you wanna watch a movie or something? I’m bored.”

You had now picked up a pencil and a highlighter, working on the chemistry notes he was supposed to be taking. “Don’t you have work to do, Pete?”

“...No.”

You paused your writing to gaze at him skeptically.

“So you did your book report for english?”

“Yes.”

“Your worksheets for pre-calc?”

“Mhm.”

“You read the assigned chapters for Pschycology and finished the quiz you had to take on them?”

A nod was your only answer.

“What about chem? We have notes, essay questions, assigned reading, and a formulas worksheet due next tuesday. Have you done all of that?”

Peter hesitated for a moment. “Yes, I have.” It was a clear lie. “Can we watch a movie now?”

“There’s no way you did all of that. Go finish your work, and then we can watch a movie.”

A groan escapes Peters lips as he turns, resting against your desk. “But that’ll take forever. Your dad kicks me out at 11:00. We’ll never have time to watch one.” He whines.

You smile slightly, unable to fight it. Not replying to your friend, you spin around in your chair, raising your voice slightly, “FRIDAY, connect to dad please.”, the command directed to nowhere in particular.

“Connecting to Mr. Stark.” The familiar robotic voice echoes throughout your room.

“What’s up, Y/N/N?”

“Hey, Dad? Can Peter stay a bit later tonight?”

“Why?”  Your dad’s voice replies through a hidden speaker, his tone almost accusatory.

“Because he wants to watch a movie but I won’t let him until we’re done with homework. We won’t have enough time to finish the movie if he leaves at normal curfew? Pleeeaseee, Dad?”

You can hear your father sigh. “Fine, but only because it’s not a school night and I’m feeling generous. He’s gotta be gone by one though, no exceptions.”

Both of you smiled widely, and you erupted in cheers. “Thanks, Dad!”

“Kid, be ready for training at eight. A later curfew doesn’t mean an exception from your early morning saturday sessions.” The statement was directed at Peter, who nodded, despite your father not being able to see him.

“Got it, Mr. Stark.”

“FRIDAY, disconnect.” You heard Tony’s voice from the other side.

“Disconnected.” The sound of the AI confirming the command filled your room, and the space fell into a brief silence once again.

You spun in your chair, turning to face Peter with a smug smile on your face. “There, now we can get our work done, and watch a movie. Satisfied?”

Peter nodded, giving a roll of his eyes and heading back over to his workspace on your bed, plopping down and continuing his assignments.

An hour and half later, Peter gave a heavy sigh, finally closing his textbook with a smile. “All done!” he announced proudly.

“With everything?”

“Yes, everything.”

You closed your notebook you’d been working in, standing up. “Great. I’ve been done for half an hour, I’ve been working on future assignments while I waited for you to finish up. Ready to watch that movie?”

Peter nodded excitedly. He loved watching movies with you, because you always cuddled up close to him on your bed while you watched. Peter loved being in close proximity to you, even though it made him a little nervous.

“What do you wanna watch?” He asked, beginning to clear his things off your bed.

“I don’t know. We can discuss while we go make popcorn.”

Peter’s eyes lit up; he loved popcorn.

“Okay!” He tossed the rest of his things in his school bag, zipping it up quickly and dropping it in the corner of your room. “Lets go!”

You chuckled at his childlike behavior, following him out of your bedroom door towards your kitchen. The entire journey down the stairs, down the hall, and to the kitchen was filled with Peter going on and on about movies he wanted to see.

You grabbed the microwave popcorn from the pantry, unwrapping it and tossing it in, starting up the machine.

You continued to listen to Peter as soft popping sounds filled your kitchen.

“Oh, you guys have Disney plus, right? What if we watched that new star wars show thingy? The mandalorian?”

You smiled at this statement. Though you didn’t see the boy in any way but a friend (at least that’s what you told yourself), you found Peter’s Star Wars obsession very cute.

“I mean, I would watch that, but I don’t think I’d understand it.”

Peter’s brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“Because I’ve never seen the movies.”

You watched in amusement as Peter’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening in shock. “You’ve NEVER seen the Star Wars movies? Are you kidding me, Y/N?”  

You laughed at his reaction, moving to fetch the fully popped popcorn from the microwave and transfer it into a bowl. “No, I’m not kidding. I’ve been meaning to watch them forever, but I guess I never got around to it.”

“I can’t believe this!” Peter exclaims in disbelief. “We’ve been friends for a year and a half now, and you’ve never seen the Star Wars movies? This is insane! I talk about them so much… did you just never understand what I was talking about?”

You shook your head, chuckling. “Nope, I never have. I kinda just let you talk about it, because I planned on watching the movies. I figured I’d understand what you meant when I watched them.”

“Holy shit… we’re watching the first one tonight, Y/N. No arguments, we’re doing it.”

You grabbed the now prepared bowl of popcorn, smiling at your friend. “Alright, let’s do it.”

You headed back up the stairs, the sound of your footsteps accompanied with the sound of Peter murmuring in disbelief as you made your way to your room.

Once the two of you arrived at your destination, you closed the door, placing the bowl of popcorn on your still cluttered desk.

Peter climbed into your bed, while you rummaged through your drawers in search of comfy clothes. “I’m gonna change into pj’s before we start, i want to be comfy.”

Peter nodded. “FRIDAY, put Star Wars: The Phantom Menace on Y/N’s TV.” He spoke out in a slightly raised voice. The movie appeared on your screen, waiting to be started as you changed.

A few moments later, you emerged from your bathroom, now wearing a pair of Nike shorts and a slightly oversized t-shirt.

“Y/N, this is about to change your li-” Peter’s voice trailed off as he looked at you. The oversized shirt you were wearing… was his.

He choked on the piece of popcorn he’d been eating. “I-is that my shirt?”

You looked down on what you were wearing, realizing that it was, in fact, Peter's. “Oh shit. Yeah, sorry. You left it at the lab once, dad gave it to me to give to you, and I guess it just got mixed in with my clothes. I’ll wash it and give it back.

Peter shook his head, coughing again. “No, it’s okay. You can keep it. It looks better on you anyway.” his cheeks went pink as he realized what had just left his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say the last part.

Your cheeks went even pinker at the compliment, which you couldn’t deny made your stomach flutter a little bit. “Okay, thanks.” You smiled at your friend, climbing into the bed beside him. You cuddled in close to him, probably closer than need be, but Peter didn’t seem to mind.

“FRIDAY, start the movie.”

---

A few hours later, the credits were rolling, and Peter was red in the face. You had fallen asleep halfway through the movie, and had moved even closer to him in your slumber. You were now full-on cuddling the boy, and he had no idea what to do. Your leg was moved over his, your head lay on his chest. One arm thrown around his waist. He liked having you this close, but his stomach was in a constant state of butterflies, and he was worried that the sound of his heart beating loudly in his chest would wake you.

He didn’t know what time it was, but it must’ve been close to one, because a knock sounded from the other side of your bedroom door.

Without waiting for an answer, Tony entered the room. “Alright, kids, it’s almost curfew, time to wrap it up…”

His eyes landed on you and Peter, cuddled up in your bed.

“Kid, what the hell is going on here?”

“Mr. Stark! Um, Y/N fell asleep while we were watching the movie and she kinda… I don’t know.. Ended up like this? Nothing’s going on, I swear, it’s just… I didn’t want to wake her up…”

Peter’s face was the color of a tomato at this point. Stark still had his suspicions about the boy’s intentions, but had a feeling that Peter was telling the truth. “Alright, then. You’d better get your ass home and get some sleep. Like I said, you don’t get a free pass from training because you were cuddling with my daughter till one am.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “No, Mr. Stark, I- We weren’t… I Wasn’t…”

Stark chuckled at the boy’s flustered state. “I’m screwing with you, Kid. Now get the hell out of my house. I’ll see you at 8 AM sharp at the compound”

Peter nodded frantically. “Yes, sir. 8 AM. Got it.”

Tony turned and left without another word, leaving Peter slightly panicked. Did Mr. Stark think that something was going on between him and Y/N? Would he be mad if there was? Peter didn’t know what to think, but he knew that he should probably leave before Tony decided to come back.

Peter climbed carefully out from underneath Y/N, setting her head gently on her pillow. He tried his very best not to wake her as he moved out of the bed.

“Goodnight, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Love you lots.” Peter whispered to his ‘best friend’, planting a sweet kiss on her forehead. With that, he slid your window open, climbing out of it and swinging his way home.

Peter was completely oblivious to the fact that Tony had been standing quietly outside your door when Peter said his goodbyes, and Tony saw the entire encounter. The ‘goodnight’, the ‘i love you’, the sweet forehead kiss.

Tony had his suspicions, but that night it was confirmed: his newest recruit had it bad for his daughter.

Strangely, Tony didn’t find himself terribly angry over it.

The next morning, you awoke to the sound of your alarm blaring frustratingly loud. You groaned at the noise, picking up your phone to turn it off. The time on your phone screen read 7:00 AM. Groaning again, you pulled yourself reluctantly out of bed. As much as you hated getting up out of bed, you knew you had to if you ever wanted to complete your training. Your father had promised you that you’d get a spot on his team if you trained hard enough, and you were extremely determined. It had been your dream for years to become an Avenger, so you had been training your ass off for months to earn your spot.

This is how all of your Saturdays had begun for many weeks. An alarm going off at seven in the morning, waking you up to get ready for training at eight. It was a normal routine for you at this point, but for some reason the early wake up never got easier.

You moved about your regular morning routine, heading straight for your bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. Once your basic hygiene was done, you brushed through your hair, changed into some clothes (your training uniform was at the compound), grabbed your phone, and headed downstairs.

You made a beeline for the kitchen, where your father was already making his morning coffee. When he noticed your presence, he gave you a tired smile.

“Morning, Y/N/N. Sleep well?”

Still half asleep, you gave an exhausted nod. “I shouldn’t have stayed up that late last night. I’ll yell at Peter when I see him. He always manages to convince me to let him stay late.”

For some reason, your father gave a light chuckle at your words. “I bet he does, sweetheart.”

Your brows furrowed at his statement. Something about his tone of voice didn’t sit right with you. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, making your way over to fix yourself a cup of coffee.

Your father smiled smugly at you, passing over the coffee pot and a mug. “Nothing, honey. Be ready in fifteen.”

Still suspicious, your eyes followed him as he placed his coffee mug in the sink and moved from the room. Why was he acting like this? Did Peter do something last night? You remembered falling asleep halfway through the movie, not being able to make it through the whole thing. Had something happened while you were sleeping?

Deciding not to let it bother you, you pushed the interaction from your mind, focusing solely on fixing your coffee. You were barely functional without it, and you knew you needed to be fully aware for training. You had to prove to your father that you could keep up with the Avengers, and that you’d be a useful asset to their team.

You downed the coffee quickly, knowing you had only a few minutes left to get ready. When your father gave you a time warning, he always meant it. And, you knew all too well, he would leave you behind if you were going to make him late.

He’d done it twice before.

Once you had finished chugging the remnants of your coffee, you placed the mug neatly in the sink, right beside where your father had left his. The drink had been an instant pick-me-up, and you automatically felt more awake. You found yourself getting more and more excited for the day ahead of you. Though waking up early on saturday mornings was a pain in the ass, you did enjoy training. You got to exercise, learn about cool technology, and screw around with your best friend. What wasn’t there to like?

Now that your best friend had crossed your mind, you pulled out your phone to text him. You sent him a message every morning, or he sent one to you. It was just a thing the two of you did. Over the past year the two of you had been close, it became some sort of routine.

Y/N/N: morning spidey. u awake?

Within moments, he was typing out a reply. He always answered your messages quickly.

Spidey: yes i am :) ready for training? I’m gonna kick ur ass in sprints today

You chuckled lightly at his response. You and Peter had always been insanely competitive towards each other, and it really jumped out during training. Unfortunately for you, Peter usually won the challenges. You always blamed it on the fact that he had more experience and super strength; he blamed it on the fact that ‘you suck’ and ‘he’s just that awesome’.

Y/N/N: u can try, but idk how that will work out. I’ve beaten u in all of the other sprints for weeks.

Spidey: doesn’t matter. I’m showing out today

Spidey: bring ur a-game, irongirl.

You smiled at the message.

Y/N/N: always do, spiderboy

He started typing back immediately, and you knew exactly why. He called you irongirl to screw with you, so you had begun calling him spiderboy to get on his nerves. It worked every time.

Spidey: Y/N!!! It’s spiderman!!!

Y/N/N: spiderboy!!! It’s nova!!!

Spidey: ugh. Ur impossible.

You grinned widely. Your playful banter with Peter has always been one of your favorite parts of the friendship.

Y/N/N: but u love me anyways :)))) see u soon

Spidey: u better be glad i do. see u soon

You reread the texts, unable to fight the smile on your face. Everytime you interact with Peter, you remember how much you truly love him. Being an avenger, and the daughter of one of the smartest and most famous men on the planet, wasn’t easy. Peter was the only one who had a taste of the madness that was your life. Having him around was having a sense of normalcy, and so were incredibly grateful for him.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your voice being called from the front door of your house.

“Y/N! Time to leave!” Without hesitation, you locked your phone, slipping it into the pocket of your sweatpants.

You hurried towards the front door, not wanting to be left behind again. When you arrived, your father was already standing there, holding the door open. You gave him a smile and a quick thank you for holding the door, then made your way out. The driver was already waiting patiently in front of your house. This was one of your dad’s six drivers.

“Morning, Bernard.” You say kindly to the driver, climbing into the back seat of the range rover. “How are you today?”

“I’m doing wonderful, Y/N. How are you?” The older man replied. You really liked Bernard, he was one of your favorite drivers. He was an older man, in his mid seventies, and you found him to be the sweetest person in the universe. Sometimes, he’d bring you your favorite candy when he used to pick you up from school, and he was always so considerate and kind.

“I’m good. Tired, but good.”

The man smiled at your reply. By this point, your dad had finished locking up the front door of the house, and he climbed in the backseat beside you.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark.” Bernard said professionally to his new passenger, and your dad nodded as a reply.

“Morning, bernard.”

The conversation ended there between the two men. Your father wasn’t a very social person with people he didn’t know, and Bernard was aware of this fact. He mostly talked to you when you were in the car, and Tony went on his phone and did Lord knows what.

“How is Dorothy doing? Is she feeling better?” You asked the man as he began pulling out of your driveway. Dorothy was Bernard’s wife, and she’d gotten sick the week prior. Given her age, Bernard was very worried about her.

Bernard smiled at your question. “Much, much better. They released her from the hospital yesterday, she’s back home and doing great. Thanks for asking.”

“Of course!” You grinned back. “Did you ever find out what she had?”

“Pneumonia, just a very bad case of it.”

You nodded in understanding. “Well, I’m glad she’s better! I was worried when you first told me.”

The conversation continued, talking about anything and everything as you drove to the compound. He told you about his wife, his four kids and what they’re doing. His granddaughter had a baby a few days before, and he was extremely excited about it.

After a 20 minute drive, you pulled up to the building you knew so well. Bernard went to the normal procedure of getting through the front gates, and then pulled up to the front of the compound.

“Well, here we are.” Bernard announced, parking the vehicle. You and your father began climbing out of the backseat.

“Thank you, bernard. Tell your granddaughter I said congratulations!”

He wished you a kind goodbye, and then you were gone, leaving the car and heading towards the compound.

When you walked into the main section of the building, you spotted your best friend in the kitchen. You had to admit, he looked incredible, standing near an open window in the early morning light. He was already dressed in his sleek, black training uniform. It was tight against his body, showing off his muscled body. Sometimes, you forget how beautiful Peter is.

“You’re staring…” A singsong voice came in your ear. You whipped your head towards the voice to see your father walking away from you, smirking. You stood there, feeling slightly confused. Had you really been staring at Peter?

At times, you forget that Peter is only your best friend. The two of you act like an old married sometimes. You spend all of your time together, and you know each other so well.

Strange feelings you couldn’t understand had crept up on you before, especially recently. You couldn’t deny Peter was attractive, and he was a great person, too. How could you not love him? The issue is, you found yourself loving him in a different way than before…

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. You couldn’t be thinking about this right now, it’s not the place or time. Peter was standing right in front of you, and you needed to be focused for training.

You could process your feelings and emotions at a later time.

You began walking up to Peter, who was leaning up against the counter holding a cup of coffee.

“Morning, loser.” You said teasingly, greeting your friend. His head snapped in your direction, and he smiled when his eyes found you. (You thought you could see his cheeks go pink, too, but you forced yourself to ignore it.)

“Hey! How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good.” You replied, leaning against the counter beside him. “I didn’t even notice that you left last night, I was really out. Did my Dad come in and tell you to leave?”

The pink in Peter’s cheeks darkened at your statement. Of course, this was the perfect time for your father to reenter the room. “Yeah, I did. He seemed very comfortable, but I kicked him out at one.”

Peter and your father were making direct eye contact. Your dad had that stupid smirk on his face, and peter was bright red.

You looked between the two of them, not knowing what to think. Before, you were just suspicious, but now it was confirmed: something happened last night between the two of them, and you were determined to find out what.

Hours later, you’re completely exhausted from training. You worked your ass off, and had successfully beat Peter in sprints.

“That’s right! You lost! How amazing is spiderboy now?”

Peter rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. “Whatever, Y/N. I let you win.”

Your jaw dropped. “You did not! I won because I’m better!”

Peter just smiled at you. You took a swig of the water bottle in your hands, turning around to look at your friend as you did.

The sight you were met with was very sweet. Peter stood there, smiling at you with a look you could only describe as adoration. You looked back at him, a small grin resting on your face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” The brunette boy says cheekily.

“Why are YOU looking at ME like that, Parker?”

You took a step closer to him, his eyes widening slightly at your movement. He said nothing in response to your question (though it felt more like an accusation), and you smiled again.”Got nothing to say?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

“Parker!” You jumped what felt like 20 feet in the air at the sound of Natasha’s voice, breaking up the little moment between you and Peter.

You stepped back away from him, and you couldn’t help but notice the sadness flash across his face before he turned to the other woman in the room.

“Yeah, Nat?”

“Tony needs your help in the lab. I believe his exact words were ‘he needs to be here in five or I’ll kill him.’ A few minutes have already passed, I’d start running if I were you.”

Peter’s eyes widened for the second time. “Oh, shit, okay. Thanks, Nat.” He turned his head quickly in your direction. “I’ll meet you in your room when I’m done, okay?”

You nodded with a smile. Peter planted a quick kiss on your forehead before jetting off in the direction of the lounge.

Grinning to yourself, you turned towards the sink, your back facing Natasha. You begin cleaning out your now empty water bottle, thinking over the previous interaction with Peter. You loved when he kissed your forehead.

“So, how long have you liked him?” You were so deep in thought, Natasha’s voice made you jump once again. When you’d fully processed her words, your cheeks went pink.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh, don’t give me that. I know you like him.”

“Like who?” Play dumb. That’ll throw her off your trail… right?

“Peter! Come on, you’re caught. Just admit it, Y/n, you’re making things harder on yourself.”

Finally, you sighed. Drying your hands on a towel, you turned reluctantly back towards Nathasha. “Is it really that obvious?”

The woman broke out into a grin at your words. “Of course it is! You two are hopelessly in love with each other. It’s almost hard to watch.”

Your cheeks went pink at her statement. “With each other? Oh, no. You mean I’m hopelessly in love with him. It’s not mutual. I’m just his best friend.”

Nat rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, come on! ‘Just his best friend’ my ass. He loves you, Y/N. He’s even more obvious than you are.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, I promise you’re wrong.”

She looked at you pointedly. “I was right about you, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, but…” Your voice trailed off. You couldn’t argue with that. Nat grinned smugly at your reaction.

“That’s what I thought. Please confess to him when he meets you in your room later. It’s painful to watch, I can’t do it any longer.” And with that, Natasha was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Was it really thought obvious? Could everyone tell how you felt about peter? You could hardly even tell how you felt about him; the line between best friend and crush had been blurred for so long. If everyone could tell that you were hopelessly in love with your best friend, you would be incredibly embarrassed.

Even worse… what if Peter could tell that your in love with him?

You shook your head, as if clearing your thoughts. No. You couldn’t think like that. Of course he didn’t know; he would’ve said something.

Right?

Sighing, you walked off towards your room to take a shower, pretending you weren’t going to think of him while you were in there.

---

While Natasha was exposing your feelings, you were completely oblivious to the fact that Tony was doing the same thing to Peter in the lab.

When the boy walked in, Peter fully expected that he was being called for one of three reasons.

One: Tony had a new mission for Peter.

Two: Tony needed help with an experiment.

Or, three (the scariest option): Tony wanted to scold him for (albeit unintentionally) cuddling with his daughter the night before.

Peter could only be described as apprehensive as he walked carefully into the lab, where Tony was hunched over a table, working on something that Peter couldn’t see.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter spoke nervously, a timid way of letting Tony know of his presence. “Nat said you needed me. Is that true, or was she just trying to get rid of me?”

“No, no, I called for you.” Tony replied. He made a few last touches on whatever he was working on, then turned around towards peter. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Okay, option two is eliminated. Now, the question at hand is: will it be option one or three?

“Oh, okay. What about?” Peter said casually (or at least, that's how he hoped it came across.)

Tony gave a pointed look to the boy before speaking again. “My daughter.”

Peter’s eyes widened slightly.

Shit, shit, shit.

Option three it is.

“Is this about last night sir? I swear I can explain-” Peter was quickly speaking.

But, before he could finish, Tony was cutting him off.

“This isn’t about last night, kid. I mean, it kind of is, but not really.”

Peter’s brow furrowed.

Unknown option number four?

“What do you mean, sir?”

“I saw what happened before you left last night. The forehead kiss, the ‘I love you,’ all of it.”

Peter was bright red in seconds. “Oh…”

“Do you love my daughter, Peter?”

The boy’s cheeks somehow managed to go a darker shade of pink.

“I-I uh.. O-of course I do, she’s, uh, she’s my best friend.” Peter stammered out.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “That’s not what I mean, Peter.” The man says, his tone borderline accusatory. “Do you love her, love her?”

Silence. Peter didn’t know what to say, so he opted for nothing at all.

“I already know the answer, Peter, so you might as well just come out and say it.”

Peter pondered his next move. If he played his cards wrong, this conversation could end in him losing his life. Tony Stark was not one to be messed with, especially when it comes to Y/N.

On the other hand, Tony Stark was not one to be lied to, either.

Peter sighed, accepting his fate. “How did you know?”

Much to Peter’s surprise, Tony gave a small smile. “I see the way you look at her, kid. I’ve looked at many girls like that in my day. That enamoured look. You're in love with my daughter, and I have some questions.”

“Questions?”

“Yes, questions, kid. Keep up.”

Peter nodded. “Alright.”

“How long?” Tony asked.

“How long…?” Peter didn’t understand what Tony was aking.

“How long have you been in love with Y/N! How long have you known?”

Peter looked away, breaking eye contact momentarily out of nerves.

When did he begin loving you? Now that he’s truly thinking about it, he can’t really remember.

Maybe it was the first mission that the two of you did together, back when you still known as irongirl. It was a bank robbery, an easy task that Tony had given for your very first mission.

Maybe it was that one time when you dragged him out of bed at 6 AM so that you could show him your favorite coffee shop.

Perhaps it was when you took that faithful mission to Asgard, when you gained your powers accidentally, earning your new title as Nova.

Or, it could be the time that you and him stayed up late binge watching a show he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you that night. You looked so beautiful that night, getting excited as something cool happened in the show. Your hair was tied back, wearing an oversized shirt, your face makeup free. He couldn’t help but smile as you laughed, and didn’t think he’d ever heard a more beautiful sound in the world.

Yeah, he thinks it was that night.

“Um… about ten months ago, I think? That’s when I realized, but I think I’ve loved her for longer. I just forced myself not to acknowledge it, I guess.”

Tony nodded in understanding. “I get that. What is it about her?”

Another question the boy had to think about.

“There’s a lot of things, I think. Like how excited she gets when she talks about things she’s passionate about. Oh, and the way she laughs when something’s funny in a movie or a show or something. And the way she sends me memes or videos that she thinks are funny. They’re usually not very funny, but of course I think it’s hilarious just because she sent it to me. And she always listens to me when I talk, even if I’m talking about something stupid and boring like science stuff I think is interesting. She talks back to me like she cares what I’m saying, and I know she probably doesn’t, but she acts like she does, and that’s enough. She always drags me out to go on adventures, or, at least, that’s what she calls them. Usually it’s just going to get coffee or try out some new restaurant she heard about but it’s still fun. She’s just so amazing, and I think she makes me the best version of myself.”

The rant ended, and for a moment, Peter forgot that Tony was even in the room.

“Damn. I wasn’t expecting that. I’m impressed, kid. To be honest, I expected some shallow answer like ‘she looks hot in her suit’ or something like that.”

“No, sir. Of course, she’s beautiful, but Y/N is just so much more than that.”

Tony gave another sweet smile to the boy in front of him.

“She likes you, too, you know.”

Peter’s head snapped toward Tony again.

What the hell did he just say?

“What?”

“Y/N. She likes you.”

“No way. She just sees me as her best friend. I’m probably like a brother to her. She doesn’t like me like that.”

“But she does, kid. I know my daughter better than I know myself. She is head over heels for you, spidey. Which is why you should tell her how you feel.”

“Tell her how I feel? Why would I do that?”

“Because she likes you, too, and then you two will be stupid kids in love.”

“Are you serious?”

“Aren’t I always?”

Peter paused for a moment. “I thought you’d kill me when you found out I liked your daughter, not convince me to go talk to her about it.”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, kid. I brought you in here with the intention of killing you, or just telling you to stay away from my daughter. But after you went on that little rant about why you loved her, I just couldn’t tell you to keep away from her. You really love her, kid, I can tell. So go talk to her.”

“You’re sure you won’t be mad if I ask her out?”

Tony shook his head and smiled.

“Go get her, kid.”

-------

Freshly clean and feeling a significant amount better, you sat on your bed scrolling on your phone. Thoughts of Peter had begun to fade (mainly because you forced them out of your mind) and that helped to keep you from stressing about what’s to come.

You had decided to confess how you feel to Peter.

True, this plan could ruin everything. Today could be the day you lost your best friend, and that thought made you want to cry.

But today could also be the day you finally get to kiss the boy you’ve loved forever, and that thought also made you want to cry.

You didn't have much time to think about it further, however, because Peter was knocking on your bedroom door.

“Y/N? It’s me. Can I come in?”

You paused immediately, your heart rating speeding up.

Oh, shit. This is it. This could be the beginning or the end of you and Peter Parker.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. It was now or never.

“Yeah, Petey, come on in.”

The door opened, and the boy you loved so much walked in. His cheeks were pink, you noticed. His cheeks only went pink when he’s nervous. Why was he nervous?

You could tell by his damp hair that he had also showered before coming to your room.

“I need to talk to you about something.” He rushes out.

Oh.

“Same.” is your reply. What else are you meant to say?

“Oh, really? Well, uh, you can go first. I’ll wait.”

You shook your head frantically. “No, you first. You said it first, so it’s only right that you go.”

Peter’s hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing it. Another nervous habit of his.

“Can I sit down?”

You nodded. Why was he even asking? Usually he’d just plop down whenever he pleased, no questions asked. This behavior was very out of character for the boy you knew so well.

The boy sat down on the edge of your bed, and then took a deep breath. “Okay. I don’t know how to tell you this, but I just have to. I don’t want you to hate me, and I really hope this doesn’t affect our friendship, but…”

Peter paused for a moment, and looked into your eyes. They were brimming with concern, and he just couldn’t hold it back anymore. He broke the eye contact you’d been maintaining, mustered up all the courage he could, and then blurted it out.

“I’m in love with you. I have been for I don’t know how long. I wasn’t planning on telling you, because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but it was starting to get physically painful and I just- I can’t hide it anymore. I love you and I’m sorry.”

Peter clenched his eyes shut, unable to look at your face. He waited (very anxiously) for a reaction, but it never came. Eventually, he opened his eyes, gaining the burst of bravery it took to look at you.

Your jaw was dropped, the expression on your face unreadable.

Oh, no. No no no no no. He’d fucked up. He fucked everything up and now you were never going to speak to him again. He’d lost you. Damn you, Tony Stark.

“Y/N…” He began his apology solemnly. “I’m-”

But he never got to finish his sentence.

Because you were pouncing on him before he had the chance to.

You were on him within seconds, kissing him with so much intensity that he fell back on the bed. He was taken aback for a moment, but quickly kissed you back.

For a moment, the two of you just lay there, wrapped in one another, kissing like there was no tomorrow.

A kiss that made up for all the ones both of you had longed to have in the months before.

You pulled away gently, looking into Peter’s eyes.

“I have loved you for so fucking long, Peter. I was going to tell you that I loved you today.”

“Are you serious?”

You laughed lightly. “Of course I’m serious, you dumbass.”

“Hey!” Peter feigned offense.

You pecked his lips. “You’re a cute dumbass, though.” And then you were kissing him again, and it’s all you could’ve asked for.

----

After a while, the two of you had finally tired each other out, and now you sat cuddled against each other on your bed. No movie or show was playing; it was just you and Peter, listening to each other’s breathing and the sound of your heartbeats.

You looked up at the beautiful boy you were cuddling with, only to find he was already looking down at you.

“Aren’t you going to ask me out, Parker?”

Peter’s eyes widened, and his cheeks went red (for the millionth time that day.)

“Oh, yeah, I- I just thought- nevermind, uh- Y/N, will-”

“Yes, of course I’ll be your girlfriend, Petey.” You cut him off, saving him a few extra minutes of nervous stammering.

He smiled sheepishly at you, then leaned down to bring you into a kiss.

You cuddled back down into his chest, smiling warmly.

You can confidently say that right now, in this moment, you are the happiest you’ve ever been.

[nomsugayoongi]

Recurring

Pairing: Jungkook X OC female

Warnings: None yet.

Synopsis: Jungkook meets the girl of his dreams...but the problem is exactly that. She's in his dreams.

Note: So I had this really bizarre idea for a fluff fest (and eventual smut fest because it's JK and I can't help myself) It's written and edited on a phone so forgive any mistakes and don't be afraid to let me know what you think.

"Huh?"

Jungkook looked around. He didn't know this street. Nothing looked familiar. Not the tall, grey buildings, not the neon lights casting colourful shadows on the dark pavement, nothing. He frowned, eyes scanning the signs on the building right beside him. It was one of those 24 hour convenience stores. The lights were on but he couldn't see anybody inside. No cashier behind the counter. No customers. He had no idea what time it was. Come to think of it, he didn't actually have any idea about anything. He felt a splash of water hit his face and glanced up at the dark sky. No stars. No moon. Just....black. The glow from the street lights cast faint beams and highlighted the beginning drops of rain. He looked down at the pavement. He didn't have shoes on. His bare feet looked strange against the concrete but he couldn't feel the cold ground. His frown deepened as he scraped his foot lightly against the path, expecting to feel the rough texture but feeling nothing. The rain started coming faster, droplets hitting the back of his neck as he stared down at his feet. He wasn't afraid. Even in this strange situation, with not a soul in sight, there was no fear. Just curiosity. He looked either side of him then down the dark street ahead. There was something glowing at the end of the street that piqued his interest. A soft, warm ball of light that flickered slightly even though there was no wind.

He started walking, the rain coming down harder, huge splotches soaking through his t shirt yet he didn't feel particularly cold. He looked in the windows of the closed shops as he walked past, the silhoutte of the items in the window seeming even darker against the faint light bouncing off the glass. It was so quiet. No traffic sounds, no voices. Just the sound of the rain hammering against the pavement. As he approached the end of the street, he squinted at where the light now seemed bigger and brighter. Pure darkness spanned out in front of him, but it was moving, shimmering and rippling as the rain hit the surface. Water. A lake or something. He couldn't tell how big it was. The darkness of the water sort of blending into the darkness of the night and made one big horizon of black. As he approached the edge of the water, he noticed that the ball of light that had caught his attention was a gently swinging lamp hung inside a gazebo. A rickety looking wooden Jetty connected the floating gazebo to the embankment and he quickened his pace to get to it, mainly because the rain was now hammering down so hard that he was drenched from head to toe but also because the soft glow of light against the stark backdrop of darkness was very inviting. He made his way up the jetty, hearing the wooden slats creak and groan under his feet then smiling as he reached the gazebo. It was cute. It seemed....out of place. An octagonal, wooden structure with a slate roof and half open sides. Benches ran around each edge, padded with thick, comfy looking cushions. A lantern hung from the center of the roof, swaying slightly above a small table. It really was out of place. It looked brand new, like something you'd see in the garden section of an IKEA catalogue. He wondered whether he was ok to sit since he was wet through but it was literally the middle of the night and there wasnt a soul around, so he sat, picking the edge closest to the open water and facing out so he could watch the rain bounce off the water's surface. He liked the overlapping circular ripples it created, like an intricate pattern on the glassy surface. It was nice. Absolute silence apart from the rain and the sound of his own steady breathing. He felt calm. Peaceful. Content even. Happy to just sit in the darkness and listen to the rain. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, the smell of the water and fresh rain causing a small smile to play around his lips.

"Hey. Soggy boy. What you doing in my dream?"

His eyes snapped open and he looked around wildly. "What the hell?" He muttered, confused. Stood at the entrance to the gazebo was a girl, her arms folded across her chest as she surveyed him. There was no way she could have snuck up. He would have heard her footsteps on the crappy old jetty. "Where did you come from?" He frowned, looking around with bemusement. "What do you mean where did I come from? It's my dream. Where did you come from?" She retorted. He looked back towards the street where everything was still exactly the same. No people. No sound. "I was over there." He muttered, pointing. "Wait...dream?" He questioned, completely confused. She nodded. "Yeah. This is my dream spot. I've been here loads of times. Want to tell me why you're crashing my dream? And why you're dripping on my cushions?" She said, arms still folded expectantly. "It's raining." He said stupidly. "I got caught in it. Wait...why aren't you wet?" He asked, suddenly noticing that she was stood among the falling rain but was bone dry. "It's my dream." She repeated slower, as though he was kind of dumb. "I decide what happens. I didn't decide on you though. Why are you here?" She asked, a frown creeping between her brow. He shrugged, still looking around curiously. "Dunno. Are you sure it's your dream? I think it might be mine." He reasoned. That would make sense. Not knowing where he was, the bare feet, the body temperature rain, the entire lack of life signs. "It's definitely mine." He muttered, more to himself than to her. "Yeah, cause I went to bed after practise and woke up here...except I didn't wake up. I must still be asleep. Huh! That's pretty cool." He said, a slow grin spreading across his face at the idea of being aware of his own dream. "Excuse me. Soggy boy. If it's your dream then why am I in it and why are you having it in my dream space?" She asked. He shrugged again, finally looking at her. She had long dark hair that was poker straight and impossibly shiny, it fell around a cute face, huge, sparkly eyes, button nose, pouty lips. Good cheekbones. She was short but curvy. Her expression displaying her curiosity. Definitely his dream. She looked like a strange Mish mash of all the things he liked in a girl. She was cute. Very cute. "Does it matter if it's your dream or my dream? Either way, it isn't real. Whoever is dreaming will wake up at some point and it'll end anyway. Why waste it trying to figure out whose head were in?" He reasoned. She nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "Yeah I guess. I'm just...not used to anyone being here." She shrugged. "Well I'm not here technically." He mused. "Neither are you." She hummed, studying him curiously. She'd dropped her folded arms and had taken a seat on the bench opposite his. She was staring at him intently. "You got a name or should I just keep calling you soggy boy?" She asked. "Jungkook" he smiled. "Huh?" She said, eyebrow raised. "Jungkook" he repeated. "Why the face?" She shook her head, still looking a little bemused. "That's not an English name." She muttered. He chuckled, now also looking bemused. "Why would it be? I'm not English." He replied. "But you've lived here a while? Your accent." She muttered. "Lived where? What accent?" He frowned. "In England." She stated. He chuckled again. "What are you talking about? I don't live in England. I've never lived in England. I barely know how to speak English although I've been learning for years. English is hard." He mused. "But you're speaking English now." She exclaimed. He frowned, laughing. "No. I'm speaking Korean." He said slowly. She looked like her head was about to explode. "No. You're definitely speaking English. I understand you. How would I understand you if you were speaking Korean?" She said, puzzled. "YOU'RE speaking Korean." He frowned. "EH? I'm speaking English. I wouldn't be able to speak Korean if my life depended on it, let alone carry out a whole ass conversation with some soaked stranger in my dream gazebo." She said defensively. He couldn't help but laugh. As far as dreams went, this was by far one of his most

interesting. "Ok. So you're speaking English. I'm speaking Korean...yet we understand each other. Cool." He smiled. She continued to look confused. "Ok so....Jungkook right?" She asked. He nodded. "Are you from Korea?" Again he nodded. "And to you it sounds like I'm speaking Korean?" Another nod. "Hmmphhh. I've had some pretty weird dreams before but this one takes the cake."

It felt like hours passed as they talked. He found out her name, that she was 2 years older than him and English. She worked in a hospital during the night and slept during the day. He told her about himself, the band, his band mates, he touched on what his life was like but didn't go into it much. It was nice to just talk to someone, even if he had to dream them up to do it. Without him even realising, the darkness surrounding them had begun to melt away, the sky lightening into colourful purples and eventually soft pinks as the sun came up. He didn't notice when the rain stopped or the silence gradually giving way to the sound of chirping birds. He was too engrossed in conversation to pay attention to his surroundings. He'd liked the sense of solitude when he first got here but quickly preferred having someone to talk to. She was attentive and interested, listening and asking questions, laughing when he made a joke. He felt...normal, which was nice. He was almost disappointed when she pointed out that time was almost up. He looked around, surprised. "When did daytime happen?" He frowned. She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Somewhere between your pressures as an idol and my frustrations at work." She shrugged. He gazed at the water, now noticing the lush green trees that surrounded the embankment, the colour of the sky, the sparkly surface of the water. "Wow. This place is beautiful." He muttered, eyes skimming his surroundings in awe. She smiled, nodding slowly. "It's my favourite place." She said softly. "Where is it? Is it real?" He questioned. Nothing about it was familiar to him. "I don't know. I've never actually been. I just...dreamed it once and liked it so I kept coming back. A lot of my dreams happen here." She sighed. He nodded thoughtfully. "I hope I come back." He whispered. "Yeah, you didn't get to try any of the cool dream stuff." She chuckled. He raised an eyebrow, pulling his eyes from the beautiful scenery to look at her. "What cool dream stuff?" She rolled her eyes again, making him feel like a rookie. "Y'know. The stuff you can't do when you're awake. Flying, floating, changing stuff, making yourself different. It's your head. Your dream. You control it. Once you realise you're dreaming, the laws of the universe become more flexible. Dreams don't care about gravity or continuity. Your head. Your rules." She explained. He looked at her wide eyed. "Really?" He muttered. She laughed, her laugh was musical and made him feel warm. "Mmm hmm. The trick is to realise you're dreaming quickly, gives you more time to play." Her smile was childlike, eyes twinkling with excitement. It was infectious, provoking his own giddy smile. "Is there time now? Quickly?" He asked. She hummed, looking at the sky. "Don't think so. Look." She pointed upward, his eyes followed. The sky seemed to be fading. He blinked a couple of times, trying to focus but everything was blurring. "No. I'm not ready yet." He frowned. He gripped the cushion in his fists, trying to hold on. "I want to stay." He heard her light, musical laughter but it sounded further away. "I hope you're here next time. See you, soggy boy."

Jungkook awoke, blinking rapidly as he looked around. He was in his bedroom. He sat up, frowning, his stomach still churning. He rubbed his eyes with a sigh. Of course he was in his bedroom. Where else would he be. Still, that was some dream. He looked at the familiar surroundings feeling almost a pang of sadness. "That was a good dream." He whispered to himself, feeling almost silly that a small part of him was already hoping to go back.

[insufferablelust]

Little Butterfly I (Sugar Daddy Mob Boss!Spencer Reid x Reader AU)

Warnings: Part 1 of an ongoing series (that i hopefully won’t abandon), Upcoming heavy violence, Mafia and Crime related fic, Spencer is a soft dom but is dangerous, HEAVY SMUT, upcoming dark kinks (Gun,Knife,Bondage etc), daddy kink for sure, Manipulation kink, Degradation, Humiliation (yknow the drill with me) spoiling kink?, upcoming murders etc, heavy topic regarding mental illness, College legal age!Reader, Age gap, older!Spencer, Mean!Spencer, BDSM themed, Indication of Subspace, Just heavily dark smutty series (yet again lmao) 

Hello, my wonderful readers, i want to thank you all for the patience you all have for this series, hopefully i can stick to schedule an update this once a week like Thrilled. This will be a new territory for me since all i know about mafia and such are from the movies and countless books my father has inherited me with, so i deeply apologize if there’re some mistakes, this is an AU that means its only a story and fantasy. If you are uncomfortable to violence and sex then PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS. Thank you, and Happy Reading. 

This series will set around the 80′s New York.

MASTERLIST HERE

There is no hiding from the absolute luxury you indulge in, in fact you love showing it to whoever might want to pry deep enough into your life. You caused no harm by it, and it certainly isn’t anybody’s business but yours and his.

The pair of arms around your waist is a certain remainder of who you belong to, and you loved it. He looked good tonight, almost too good with the suit adorning his perfection like an absolute genius adonis— your genius adonis. You feel your cheeks heats up slightly as he glanced at you, knowing just how shy you get around so many people— his little girl is sensitive after all.

Spencer Reid knows every little thing about you, what makes you tick, what makes you snap, what makes you bow in submission to him, and what makes you feel heavenly. He knows it all, he knows the way you trembled slightly whenever he wrapped his arms around your neck as he leaned down to kiss you, or how squirmy you get whenever he tug your hair, said your name calmly whilst shoving his fingers into your mouth— he knows everything.

—

It was a mutual agreement at first, living on 80’s New York has never been so stressful during your 20’s, all the student loans, the bartending you do sometimes, even the couple of scandalous photoshoots you sacrificed yourself doing to keep your bank account afloat. Your family never really cared much, and the only person that you truly have is Emily, your roommate.The whole ordeal was strange when you found out Emily’s ties to the mafia, being the daughter of one of the strongest mafia’s capo on America during that time. You wondered how on earth she has managed to doesn’t want to get on her father’s good side, and just except the riches that comes along with being a mob, but then again you were a stranger to it too...or so you thought.

The night she asked you to accompany her to meet her father and his boss, you shrugged and said yes, having nothing to do in the apartment other than wallowing in your own debts and sadness— you immediately agrees which put a smile on her cute face.

“I thought you didn’t want nothing to do with your father.” You asked as you raked through the closet to find something... ‘elegant’ but not too much, it’s going to be in a lavish restaurant after all. Your eyes darted to Emily’s who has been staring at her phone, smiling to whoever is texting her— you could only assumed it was one of her secret girlfriend-hookup for the week.

“Well i didn’t but money is tight, fucking inflation.” She looked up for once, lips hanging open at the sight of you standing there in a black dress, short with a slit on the thigh area— looking absolutely ravenous. “Holy fucking shit.” Emily whispered.

“What? is this enough? god i feel like such a prude.” You bit your lip as you await her comments, “You look fucking gorgeous you idiot, i mean are you sure you aren’t gay by any chance?” She laughed, which caused you to giggle, “I never said i’m not gay.. just that i’m not—

“Interested in dating, yeah yeah but we can at least fuck or something.” She jokingly raised her eyebrows as you throw your bra her way and laughed, “I just don’t want to get distracted em, especially that we live together.” You pouted before giving her a kiss on the cheek, which made her roll her eyes and smile.

Only if you knew what this meeting will entails.

—

The wine tasted exquisite on your tongue, the sweet burn of merlot was pleasant on the base of your throat which shocked you at first— maybe you should stop buying cheap wines, because the real ones are heavenly. You looked around nervously, it has been a long time since you’ve gone out to have dinner, let alone one as expensive as this.

“Stop looking like you’re about to die.” Emily whispers as she took the seat next to you, which you humorously giggle and swat her shoulder, “I’m not. It’s just.. new to me is all.” You nervously chuckled, before sipping on your wine some more. It was clear that her dad and his so called mob boss were late— which you rolled your eyes since Emily was basically rushing your make up, you just hoped that you looked decent enough, not that you want to impress anyone, its just good to feel like you’ve fit yourself to the occasion.

“Oh, you’ll get used to it.” Emily chuckled, before you could even process what she meant by that the sound of a soft elderly timbre rang through your ears, “Cara mia! Jesus, you’ve grown!” Emily slapped your thigh softly, gesturing for you to stand up.

Dear heaven, lord save your knees from buckling.

You watched as Emily greeted her father as you stood by her side, she kisses him on both cheeks as they made a small conversation that you pay no mind to since you were distracted, distracted by the pair of eyes that caught yours from the moment he walked in.

A soft yet stern eyes that held yours captive at this very moment, a presence that demands every single person for its attention, and intimidating like no other. A man, a finely sculpted man, standing in front of you in an attire that you were sure was more expensive than your whole closet, His soft looking curls marvelously falls fo his side, his plump lips were begging to be kissed— to be listened, to be heard, his tall lean figure towers over you which has you gulping down nervously— so much so that you failed to acknowledged the presence of Emily’s father calling your name.

“Y/N!” You let out a gasp before turning to shake Emily’s father’s hand, trying your best to smile as you glanced over the towering man, “So this is the Y/N i’ve heard so much about huh?” The old man snickered, looking gentle whilst maintaining a facade still. You giggled softly, “I hope there are all good things, nice to meet you Mr.Prentiss.”

“Oh please, Robert is fine. Oh Emily, Y/N this is don Reid.” He stepped back in.. what looks like an utter fear, you gasped as you realized that this is.. the mob boss Emily talked about, the masochistically handsome man you’ve been staring at— you thought a mafia boss would be someone older, but this is certainly not the case.

“Pleased to meet you both, Spencer Reid.” He extended his hand which Emily gladly took before she nudges your side whilst you were still gawking at the man, the soft yet deep timbre of his voice soothes and intimidate you at the same time, not to mention how he carries himself— practically saying he’s a god.

“Oh— um yes hello, pleased to meet you, i’m Y/N.” You bit your lip as you feel your cheeks hurt from the embarrassment, shaking his hand quickly— before you could even imagine pulling away, he gives you an amused chuckle and squeeze your hand tightly before releasing you.

“Well, let’s take a seat shall we?”

You are so fucking fucked.

--

“So, Y/N, Emily told me you’re majoring in art department, how’re you liking it?” Robert spoke as you eat your pasta slowly, trying not to show how you were trembling under the very same gaze that held you captive from the moment it arrives here. You gulped down a delicious bite of pancetta, before answering, “Oh i love it, always been my passion— well painting is, but i do love everything about art and literature.” You chuckled.

“I would love to see your art sometimes.” The voice could strangle you and you’d die happily, it really could— you glanced at the man whose been looking at you like a wolf to its prey, fingers skimming over the feet of the wine glass as a soft yet eloquent smile strikes over his face.

“Oh um, it’s not— it’s not that good, i wouldn’t want to waste your time.” You choked on your wine, feeling the burn on your throat as he let out a humorous-less laugh, shaking his head, before bringing his lean fingers to his lips. “Nothing is wasteful, not if it comes to such art like you.”

What?

“Huh?” You felt small, your cheeks heated at the reference as you tried so hard not to squirm and praised yourself by hearing what you thought you heard. Your eyes darted to his in a shy manner as he kept his composure well, licking the rim of his glass before sipping his wine gently.

“Anyways! dad, shall we talk a bit more private? i’m sure Y/N can keep the don company.” You gasped at Emily’s words, still barely grasping the previous encounter— the bottom of your heel jab at her left foot, as you glared at her, “Of course of course, don?” Robert spoke up, eyes lowering as his body turned to look at the smirking masterpiece that still stares at you with the same intensity.

“Go. We’ll be fine, won’t we angel?” You gulped down as much wine as you could without burning your throat before smiling nervously, eyes glancing back and forth to The Don and Emily.

“Y-Yes um sure.” You offered a gentle smile, even though your heels jabbed Emily’s which yet again resulted in her tiny laugh before she walks away to the back area of the restaurant.

The area was thick with intensity and glamorous lights, adding to the headache that already starts due to you being a lightweight around alcohol. Suddenly you realized, that you’re practically alone— with the don of the biggest mafia ring in America. “Go ahead and ask me the question.” He murmured sternly, causing your ears to perk at the sudden thrill that made your goosebumps rose and thrived under the shimmering lights.

“Pardon?” Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your dress as you tried so hard not to stare at the huge man, feeling as if you’re being cornered by a lion, and you his prey.

“Your cheeks are warm aren’t they? you keep biting your lips every time i muttered a word, you can’t even look at me because you know that the second you do, you wouldn’t be able to stop. Emily is right, you’re a pure little thing, its fucking cute really. If this table weren’t here separating us, you’d be across my lap already— for wearing something so slutty like that.” By the time he finishes taunting you, you stopped breathing, thigh squeezing against each other so tightly that you could feel how damp your panties are getting.

“Go ahead and ask, doll. Surely you can’t be dumb enough to think i would just allow anyone to meet me let alone a little college student like you.” His eyebrow lifted, as you nervous squirmed on your seat and breathed out.

“Why did you asked her to bring me?”

“Nicely. You know better, Y/N.”

“Sir...”

—

And the rest was history, the pair of arms around your waist tighten as the owner’s lips caress and nip at the very sensitive part of your neck, causing you to shudder and mewls. “mmh.. t-too early.” You complained, fully knowing that would only amuse him even more.

He chuckled as you had predicted, nimble fingers grazing up and down your front like feathers, delicately worshipping every inch of your skin. The blaring sound of New York’s traffic was prominent, but somehow that adds a thrilling aspect for you, months ago— you were picking up morning shifts by now, working your ass off just to gain enough cash to pay this month’s rent. But now, here you are, in the arms of the most feared yet young powerful don in the entirety of the mob community, Heck if everyone knows who he is and how much power he holds— they’d all fear him, but not you, not his fiery little butterfly.

“Shh, let me love on you a little.” Your heart warmed, familiar feeling of a thousand butterflies swarming on your belly caused your cheeks to warmed at the gesture. He said things like those often, though he made it perfectly clear that you were, you are only here for business arrangements, you knew he likes to toy over affection like this— one you aren’t supposed to get attached to. But how couldn’t you? when his hand so softly glides down the curve of your godly features, warm breath fanning across your skin from behind, whispering sweet words.

“Look so pretty for me, butterfly.” He whispered, causing you to yet again whimpers, hand clutching the sheets tightly as he moves down down down until he turned you over and settle between your legs, smiling at you. “If heaven is real, you’re definitely it.” He nipped and bit the exposed skin of your thighs, last night and the night before and before still there but like he said,

“If you agree to the terms, i’ll give you every damn thing you fucking want. Your bills, rents, loans, plus each and every single thing you wished to buy.”

“And in retur—“

“In return, you will be mine, mine to have whenever wherever i want, you won’t be my chained slave or nothing, but you’ll be mine.”

So marked you again and again he did, tearing your satin panties he did, panties that cost more than a week worth of luxury meal that he only grunted with “I’ll buy the whole fucking store, now shut up and let daddy eat his breakfast.”

You swore you’re in god’s heaven then and there, even if you aren’t sure that you believe in one, you can’t help but to think that this is some kind of miracle, your life is, here you have a perfect adonis, suckling on your clit as his fingers pump your delectable cunt in and out with such a fast pace that made you feel all floaty and flustered. The same man that commands the room whenever he walks in, the same man who pay all your bills, the same man who bought you a new lavish apartment and hands you gifts every damn day.

“Oh! oh please daddy right there..” You moaned out loud as your fingers latched onto his hair, softly tug on them as he moaned against your drippy cunt and suck your clit even harder,earning a particularly loud and lewd moan from you. “mmh! a-ah! i’m gonna—“ He held his finger up then, eyes finding yours as his mouth continues to work on your now sensitive clit. Spencer wasn’t too strict or nothing about your rules but if there’s two that he’s strict about is for you to cum only if he gives you permission— no matter the place or time, if he wants you to cum, you’ll cum— not that it’s hard, with someone as skilled as him.

When you begged and begged, he slapped your thigh only to grunt darkly, “If you can’t shut up and let daddy enjoys this, i’ll fucking take you on the balcony and fuck you for all Manhattan to see. Do you want that, Butterfly? want everyone to see what a filthy college girl you are getting fucked by someone as dangerous as me?” He slapped your cunt then, over and over again as you pant, and mewls.. Body jolts and pulsed at his ministration.

“You’re going to cum like this—“ He paused to spit directly onto your swollen clit, watching it wet the sensitive nub, “Going to cum with daddy slapping your greedy little cunt. Or you are not getting an orgasm.”

“Yes, daddy— oh!” True to his words, he spank you, over and over again, leaving you quivering and brokenly cried at the burning pleasure, “Cum princess, come on, you surely know how to thank daddy don’t you?” Your hole clenched around nothing as you arch your back and sobbed,

“Can’t— daddy please i-“

“You were so fucking desperate to cum, why not now huh? your sensitive cunt surely looks wrecked enough.” He scoffed before he spank your clit so hard you jumped at the sensation before he licked his fingers and caress your clit in fast fanning motion, not giving you enough time to even breathe as your cunt pulses and throb with overwhelming need of release, building up up up, up until you finally trembled and cum all over the bed— an orgasm so intense that you blacked out for few seconds straight.

“Shh.. shh good girl, that’s it— fuck you look so ethereal like this, butterfly.” He muses as he settle his head on your lap and admire your pulsing body, “T-Thank- y-you.. daddy.” You gathered all the strength you have left as he smiled proudly.

Your head laid on his chest as you both cuddle in silence, trying to enjoy the serenity and calm environment around you as the city below you buzzed all round. It was calming for awhile before his phone rang and you involuntarily sighs, “I know pretty girl, i know.” He muttered, before smiling apologetically- Not that he needs to.. Business arrangements, not like you’re his girlfriend or nothing.

love on you,

love on you,

let me love on you,

You forced your fuzzy subby mind to get the thoughts out, as you watched his figure put on his robe, and leaned down, “I’ll be back later okay, don’t forget to check your phone.” He kissed your forehead for a bit, letting it linger as you held back your tears, wishing he could stay with you, you need your daddy, you really really do need him now. Feeling all small and fuzzy like this. But with the blaring noise of his ringtone, you knew the don has business to take care of and of course you’re not important enough to held such important task to be left.

So you smiled all nicely and kissed all the rings finger on his fingers before bidding a tiny whimper of, “Best of luck, don.” Your head bowed a little in respect as he noticed the true and true sadness flashed across your eyes, but paid it no mind as his other burner phone blared.

“Thank you, Butterfly. Get dressed soon, and i’ll have Morgan bringing you that sandwich from the deli you love so much. I’ll see you soon.”

Oh how nice would it be if this is your life, but life doesn’t always have a happy ending after all.

——

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