#Sweet... Nerdy and awkward is how I like my people :(

[seasprincess]

nerd!rafe x popular!reader

mdni

warnings: smut-handjob, pathetic sub!rafe, this is not cannon Rafe AT ALL

Rafe Cameron is a quiet nerdy boy with about no friends. Where as you, you’re loud and popular, friends with everyone.

Ever since you had joined the school Rafe’s eyes have been on you. Watching you laugh and smile with the people that flocked to you like moths to a flame.

He couldn’t help admire you in a way. But mainly he was admiring your beauty.

He has never spoken to you of course. God no he wouldn’t dream of it. Well that’s not entirely true.

He’s dreamt of it, thought of it, imagined it while his hand was around his length. But not in a perv way of course. No no. Not in the way the other boys do it. In a sweet way. Right?

But no, he couldn’t talk to you. In the world of high school. Rafe isn’t allowed to talk to you. He’s too ‘low’ for you. Which he thinks is stupid but he can’t rewrite the social laws of the school.

So he’ll just sit in class staring at you instead of doing his work. Not like he needs to do more work in class. He’s smart enough to pass a test with just a glance. So here he’ll sit waiting for his chance to talk to you properly. Instead of that couple times you were sweet to him, sticking up for him and that one time he said thank you for you holding open the door. And god did that thought make his heart beat.

But soon enough, here’s his lucky day.

“Rafe, you’ll be working with y/n.” The teachers words ring in his head as his eyes are pulled up from the desk. He turns to face you and sees that you’re looking at him. And he c-wait-you’re looking at him.

He does a double take before seeing you wave at him. A small gesture that means so much to him you don’t even know. So he does a wave back. But he’s shy and awkward so now he’s stressing that he looked weird and seeing your friends giggling and whispering doesn’t help the feeling he’s embarrassed himself.

So quickly he turns away, back to the page on his desk. Drawing random lines on it to make it appear he’s doing something. Doing anything other than looking at you and gawking.

Why does he have to be so shy and embarrassing? Why can’t he be like the popular people like Bryce and Zach? They can just talk to everyone and just be confident all the time. He hates himself for his anxiety that is in the bottom of his stomach everytime anyone even breathes to close to him. He hates it so much th-

“Hey partner.” Rafe’s brought out of his spiral of thoughts when you speak to him. He’s frozen looking up at you, is this real? Or is he dreaming?

“H-hey.” He says, pushing up his glasses on his face as he adjust in his chair.

“So when we doing this project?”

“Anytime. Anytime that’s good for you, I’m free. Like all the time. I’m not doing…anything.” Rafe decides to stop himself from babbling and making himself look like a complete and utter loser.

But all you’re doing is smiling at him. Not pulling the disgusted face he’s use to.

“Tomorrow night? My place?”

“Yeah sure.”

“Cool, don’t have snap so I can send you the info?” You say as you pull out your phone. Waiting for him to respond to you.

Rafe rubs the back of his neck as he thinks how to reply to this. He couldn’t say that his mom doesn’t allow him to have social media and even if he was to have it he wouldn’t have enough friends anyway.

“No. I don’t use snap anymore.” He lies.

“Oh right okay. Insta? Tiktok?”

Rafe just shakes his head.

“I can give you my number?”

“Yeah sure okay.”

Rafe gets out his phone, a tiny phone that was probably made eight years ago that his mom told him was ‘cool and trendy’. She’s so wrong it almost hurts.

Rafe had been waiting and waiting for this day. Yes the plans were arranged yesterday but he’s just so excited it’s almost sad really.

But after making his way to your house and you giving him a tour of the mansion you live in. You’re now both sat on your bed.

He’s in your room.

On your bed.

“No you’ll have to tutor me.” You say as you smile before looking back at the work that’s in front of you. You’re laying on the bed as Rafe is sat stiff.

“Tutor you?” Rafe asks, adjusting his glasses again for the second time this minute.

“Well we’re doing this project and I don’t get what it’s about so you’ll have to help me.”

Earlier when Rafe started talking about the project he had presumed that he’d been doing it all himself like he’d usually do with other people. But you insisted you’d actually help. Even if you have been distracted a couple times.

“Yeah sure.” Rafe replies as he smiles, looking down at you. He’s rather close to you it’s making his heart beat so fast. If it beats any faster it’ll pop out his chest like in those cartoons. His eyes might also pop out his head too. We’re just waiting for that.

God he’s so close to you he can smell that perfume you wear every day to school. It hasn’t changed since the first time he met you.

He’s just watching you lay on your stomach on the bed, writing down some things. He just can’t seem to pull his eyes away from you. You just look so beautiful and calm. Of course he has to go and ruin it.

He’s just staring, and before he thinks he leans in and kisses you. His soft lips pressing against yours until he realises what’s happened and pulls back.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He says as he starts panicking. Of course he’s ruining things like he always does. He may be smart when it comes to academics but he’s so stupid when it comes to social situations.

But all you do is smile. Just smile at him before pushing up and climbing onto his lap.

“Oh, oh. Okay…” He says as he holds his breath and looks anywhere but you. His hands don’t touch you. Just in the air, frozen in place by this very unexpected action from you.

So you place his hands on yours hips looking at him before your hands are placed on his cheeks. Gently rubbing them as you look down at him.

“You have a crush on me Rafe?”

Rafe nods as he stares into your eyes. He’s too shy to say anything, and also incredibly aroused by having you here. On his lap. His hand sneaks as he brings it close to his face to adjust his glasses. He look looks up at you like a puppy.

He’s so cute and shy it makes him all the more attractive to you. Some people think he’s all these things but unknown to him you’ve always had some feelings for him. Even if you did try and stop them.

Your hand travels downs Rafe’s body until it reaches his zipper. His dick twitching in his pants as he lets out a low whine. He’s so pathetic it’s so hot to you.

“You want me to touch you Rafe?”

This has escalated very quickly, and as scary it is to Rafe. It’s very exciting for Rafe too. He’s never even held hands with a girl. Or spoken to one for longer than thirty minutes. Twenty minutes. Ten minutes at best.

“Yes please.” He whines out as he wriggles lightly underneath you, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He has thought about thus situation before but this is not how he was expecting at all.

You smile as you start to kiss him, lips pressing softly against Rafe’s. His lips are soft, different to what you’ve kissed before. Your tongue slips into his mouth which is met by more whines from the boy underneath you.

Your hand slips into Rafe’s pants and before he can say a word you start to stroke him. His dick hard and leaking with precum. He feels slightly embarrassed but that’s quickly stopped as you begin to go faster. And all he can think about is how good it feels and how much better it is than his own hand.

The moans and whimper from this man is heavenly. Making those panties you chose to wear just for him wet.

“Please, please can I cum?” Rafe is begging for this. Begging for this release from you. His whole body is practically shaking. He knows he’s acting needy and pathetic. But he can’t help it. He’s practically brainwashed by you.

He’s a man who could genuinely have any job he’s ever wanted but here he is whining for you. Whinging and moaning and begging. A possible future president is begging to cum.

“Yeah baby. Cum for me.”

You will definitely be doing this again.

a/n: don’t know how to feel about this one and i am still upset over bae’s eyebrows.

[mrfoox]

Don't get attached so easily I say, as I'm already attached...

[dearsnow]

BIRDS OF A FEATHER

- phoenix and her girlfriend set you up with a wso they insist will be right up your alley. (robert “bob” floyd x fem!reader, fluff, reader is meant to be similar to bob, ie quiet, sweet, and nerdy, mentions of being drunk/having sex but nothing explicit)

word count: 2,003

a/n - this fic is parallel HEAVY, so don’t be surprised if you see the same phrase passed around. it’s truly a mindlink esque situation lol. and it’s 100% self-indulgent because the reader’s personality is so similar to mine (i am nothing if not a self caterer)

“Nat, I’m really not sure.” Bob tries to protest. “You know I’m no good with dating and stuff. Who’s to say she’ll even like me?” Natasha pats him on the back, firmly enough for him to know she means it.

“You guys are birds of a feather. Trust me, she’ll like you.”

“Jamie, I just don’t know.” You frown. She’s trying to set you up with her girlfriend’s friend, claiming that you’d be the perfect match, but you know you’re not the most amazing when it comes to meeting new people. You’re slightly awkward at best, socially anxious at worst. “He probably won’t like me. And if we’re really so similar, don’t you think it’ll be stiff and weird because neither of us can say the right, flirty thing?”

“You don’t need to be ‘flirty’ to have a good connection. Not every relationship is going to be like Natasha and I, all fire and flame. Sometimes it’s slow, and slow is good. It’s exactly what you need.” Jamie chides, putting a soothing arm around your shoulder. “Trust me. Birds of a feather, right?”

You shift uncomfortably in the booth you’re sitting in, Jamie’s hand rubbing the side of your arm comfortingly. It’s ten minutes before your supposed double date, and Natasha affirms that it’s about five minutes before he shows up. “Bob’s always early,” she stated, “so we can be even earlier to give you some prep time.”

You’re quiet. Shy, even, and you don’t have the best track record with social events. You’ve never really had a date that understood why you don’t want to get roaringly drunk and have sex in a bathroom and whatnot. The two girls, one in front of you and one by your side, have assured you that Bob will be different. He’s quiet too, but he stands up for himself. He’s strong and capable, with a humble attitude and the slight southern charm that you can bring home to your parents. If he’s really so great, though, what the hell is he doing going out with you?

Bob can see your booth through the door of the diner, and he steels his nerves quietly. He’s got this. He’ll make it a nice dinner, a nice experience, and he will not, under any circumstances, fuck it up. He owes you that much. He knows he’s probably not what you want in a guy. Natasha described you as hardworking, kind, and a good listener. He can’t help but think that you deserve much better than him.

He takes a breath and pushes open the door, the flowers in his other hand a little damp from his sweaty palms.

When he finally rounds the server stand, he can see you. And you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever had the pleasure of setting sights on.

He’s royally fucked, he thinks.

Oh my god, he’s so hot. You smile at him and curse a bit under your breath, careful to not let anyone hear. He’s everything you imagined and more, with sandy colored hair, bright blue eyes, and glasses that look like they’re just a little crooked. If you were bold, you’d reach across the table and fix them as he sat down. You’re not, though, so you just fidget with your hands under the hard wood.

He clears his throat and hands you a small bouquet of daises, sliding into the spot across from you. Nat gives a little self-satisfied smile from next to him. “Hi. I didn’t know what you liked, so I hope that’s okay. I’m- I’m Robert by the way, or Bob, whatever you prefer.”

You think your cheeks will split open from how hard you’re smiling. It’s such a small gesture, but the blush on his cheeks tells you that it’s earnest. “They’re perfect. Thank you, Bob.” You introduce yourself with the next breath, and he shakes your hand like it’s a business meeting. His palms are warm and just a little bit damp, but when his fingers curl around your own like they were meant to fit together, you couldn’t care less. “So,” you begin, somewhat shyly, “you’re Natasha’s WSO?”

When Bob hears your quiet voice, he knows he’s in deep. “Yeah. She’s a great pilot.” His praise earns him an elbow from Natasha, a silent ‘talk about yourself, dipshit’ evident in the action. He smiles nervously. “We do a lot of the weapons bits so the pilots can fly safely. How about you, what do you do?”

“It’s not as important and exciting as your job, that’s for sure.” You laugh before explaining exactly what you do.

“Honestly, that is important and exciting. I’m sure you excel at it, too,” Bob offers, somewhat bashfully. What makes your head spin is that he seems like he means it. He’s sincere, wonderfully so.

As that statement quirks the corners of your mouth up, Bob’s heart explodes. You’re charming and beautifully sweet, with a pretty smile and dashing eyes to boot.

Jamie enters your conversation carefully, like she wants to help but isn’t forcing anything. Natasha pipes in a few times, but overwhelmingly, it’s you and Bob. Neither of you have ever spoken so much in this type of setting before, and it’s great. You bounce ideas and jokes and quips off of each other like you were meant to. You feel like you were meant to, because everything just comes so easily with Robert Floyd. You’re finally talking to someone who understands every bit of you, polishing the hidden parts of yourself until they shine. You never thought you could feel this way with another person.

“Wait, have you read this book called For One More Day?” You ask, finding every opportunity to drag out a subject you enjoy so deeply. “It’s really sad, like a fictional memoir, but I think you’d enjoy it. The whole story is basically an ode to loving your parents while they’re still around.”

“I haven’t, but I’ll be sure to check it out the next time I go go the library.” Bob says, giving a slightly lopsided grin that makes your heart scream. “It seems right up my alley though. I like non fiction books, mostly, but I could go for a change every once and a while.”

Your food is almost forgotten in the midst of the conversation, and his is too. “When you do read fiction, what genres do you go for? I have a million recommendations, so help me narrow them down a bit.”

Bob will never admit this to his friends, but he’s an avid reader. He’s a sucker for a true story or anything about dogs, however, he’d read anything you could ever think to tell him about. He has already made a mental note to check out For One More Day and is currently making more notes as you list off more dog-central books. You, as you’ve told him, go for more of the fancy prose-d, heavy drama-d, and emotion-filled stories. It’s nice to see you like this, talking about something you’re honestly passionate about. The light in your eyes makes you look like a ray of sunshine.

Jamie grins at Natasha from across the table, utterly and unashamedly content that her plot has worked. Natasha rolls her eyes. “Alright, you two,” Nat says, “can we move on to something more exciting? Like planning a second date, maybe. One where Jamie and I can be happy at home while you two nerd out.”

Bob’s face reddens and you give a small, sheepish smile. “I’d like that.” You say.

“Me too.” Bob adds. Natasha can firmly say that she’s never seen him so happy, not even after a successful flight. It’s like he’s finally found the thing that made him tick, like you reached into his chest and wound up the gear box in his heart. “I’m free this Friday, if you’re up for it.”

You tap your fingers on the tabletop, thinking. “This Friday… this Friday is when I’m doing a book reading for the kids at our local library at lunchtime. We could have dinner after that, though.” You want to spend the entire day with him, but if a few hours is all you’re given, you’ll take it. You’d take anything.

Bob’s hands move to touch yours, just barely. His warmth radiates out, perfectly soothing your nerves. “If you want, I can make lunch and help you out at the book reading. I like those kinds of things, but I don’t want to impose.”

“You absolutely should.” You breathe. “You wouldn’t be imposing at all. In fact, I think the kids would really like it if Mr. Naval Aviator read a few books to them. You’d be like a superhero in their eyes.”

You’re a bit astounded by how much Bob’s face flushes. If you thought he was a bit pink before, he’s got a drunk man’s glow now. And you were being completely, one hundred percent honest when you said that the kids would like him. They’d love him. Micah’s father was in the Navy when he was younger, so there’s one connection, and April loves airplanes with a passion. It would be amazing.

“Then I’ll be there. Here’s my number, so you can text me when and where.” Bob slides a little piece of paper over to you, one that he must have written a bit ago, because his pen is securely clipped to his pocket. He likes you so much he wrote down his number while you were (probably) explaining your love for reading, or crafts, or small animals? You’re going to swoon if he keeps this up.

Natasha eyes where your hand is touching Bob’s. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Now eat your food.” She gestures to your half-touched plates. You and Bob both stutter a little, completely having forgotten what you’re going to have to pay for.

The rest of the evening goes amazingly. You talk about so many subjects that by the end of the day, when the sun is slipping below the horizon, you feel like you’re floating on air— light and unburdened by the way you’ve been able to express yourself. Bob insisted on paying for your meal, and though you protested, a little part of you feels giddy that you’re worth spending money on. Bob walks you to your car, tucking your flowers into the cup holder between your seat and the passenger side.

“I really enjoyed that.” He muses. “I really enjoyed you. I thought Nat and Jamie were kinda full of it when they told me about this whole double date, but I’m glad they weren’t.”

“Me too, oh my gosh. I was totally expecting some stuck-up Navy nerd, but I’m glad it was you. I enjoy you too, Bob, probably way too much.” You’re standing by your door, but you feel like you can’t leave just yet.

He looks at you with something you hope to think is affection in his eyes before glancing down towards your lips. “I’ll let you get going. Text me anytime.”

You hesitate, staring up into his ocean blue eyes. Before you can stop yourself or tell yourself it’s a bad idea, you take the collar of his shirt in your hand and kiss him.

It feels right. His hand coming up to rest on your waist, his body pressed against yours as he stabilizes himself on your car, it’s everything you’ve always dreamed of. His lips work in tandem with your own, like they’re collaborating on some sort of secret mission, and he kisses you like he loves you.

His pupils are blown up and he’s panting just slightly when you pull away. He misses the feeling of your lips on his as soon as it ends, the tingling sensation working its way down his face. “T-Thank you…?” He whispers. You laugh, the sound music to his ears. He can hardly believe that that just happened.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Definitely.“

You give him a small peck on the cheek and step into your car, so happy you think you could explode. As you pull out, and as he waves at you from the parking lot, you make an effort to remember to thank Jamie and Natasha.

Who would’ve thought that you really would be birds of a feather?

Taglist: @seitmai

[alsofoundinpeas]

Crossing the Line

Summary: Y/N never expected to fall for her roommate, Spencer, but when she becomes unexpectedly jealous of a girl flirting with him, she realizes she's in love with him. The problem is... how does she tell him that without ruining everything?

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Roommates/friends to lovers/two idiots in love trope. Jealous reader. Heavy making out. Dry humping (huge supporter of this I say bring it back!!). A small teensy bit of angst as reader struggles to accept her feelings. Insecure Spencer (sweet angel boy).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

Requested fic!! 🥳: I absolutely loved the fic you just wrote about Spencer and reader friends to lovers (and omg you write smut so well 😍) and I was wondering if you could write another one but maybe they’re roommates or something?

A/N: College!Spencer AU ahh!! Thank you so very much to the anon that requested this :’) <3 I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I know this isn't my usual, all-out smut buttt there will be a part two for these two, so stay tuned. :') As always, please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends. <3 Thank you and I love you all!! :)

Y/N never imagined she'd be rooming with a man, let alone one as… peculiar as Spencer Reid. Not in a bad way, of course—just, well, peculiar. Spencer was the last person Y/N expected to respond to her ad for a roommate, but she was glad he did.

At barely twenty-one, he already had two bachelor’s degrees and was deep into his third PhD. He’d graduated high school at twelve (an IQ of 187 had a way of doing that, she supposed), skipping the years most kids spent developing their social skills. As a result, he was incredibly awkward and nerdy, but Y/N found this more endearing than off-putting.

As a roommate, he was exceptional: he kept things tidy, wasn’t obnoxiously loud (even with their paper-thin walls), never had people over (which meant Y/N spent more time with him, as she didn’t have guests either), and even helped her study, despite her insistence she could handle it on her own (they both knew better). As a friend, he was even better—always listening to her ramble about anything and everything, joining her for their now-regular movie nights, and offering a shoulder to cry on when needed (and she was always there for him in return).

In the six months they'd lived together, they'd grown incredibly close. Y/N was even smugly certain that they had avoided the classic 'falling for your roommate' scenario—until Spencer came home ranting about a girl in his class.

“I mean, seriously! How hard is it to grab a paper without touching someone?” Spencer huffed, plopping down onto the couch next to her and reaching for the popcorn bowl that sat securely in her lap.

It took about three months of living together before Spencer felt comfortable enough to do things like share snacks during their movie nights or indulge in the occasional moment of physical affection.

Y/N never took it personally, understanding his aversion to germs (one of the first things he’d said when they met was that kissing was safer than shaking hands, and she’d almost jokingly taken him up on it). Every time Spencer felt comfortable enough to share food with her (like he was doing now) or lean into her on the heavier days, letting her hold him until the world felt a little lighter, her chest swelled with pride. It made her happy to know he trusted her enough to let his guard down like that.

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she listened to his rant. Apparently, a girl in the class he TA'd for had been getting on his nerves for weeks, but this was the first she’d heard about it. It didn’t surprise her—Spencer tended to bottle things up until they reached a breaking point, and then he'd unload it all at once, just like he was doing now.

"She’s always staring at me, too. Every time I glance up, there she is—staring and chewing on the end of her pen. It gives me the creeps," Spencer grumbled, a shiver running down his spine as he recalled it.

"Wait wait wait," Y/N stopped his rant with furrowed brows. "What did you say this girl's name was?"

"Her name’s Wren Davidson. You might know her—or at least know of her. I'm pretty sure she's in a few of the same classes as you," Spencer said, pausing to snack on some popcorn, though by now, their movie was all but forgotten as the starting menu looped on the screen. "She’s about 5'6", has dark brown hair with some highlights, and green eyes."

Y/N pressed her tongue to her cheek, thinking for a moment. The name sounded strangely familiar…

"Oh! I know who you mean—she's in my 8:00 AM lecture with Professor James on Tuesdays and Thursdays," Y/N said, snapping her fingers as she remembered. She popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth, then tilted her head. "So, just to recap—she's asking you questions instead of the professor, touching you whenever you hand out papers, staring at you… and what else?"

Spencer adjusted his glasses and leaned forward, clearly frustrated.

"She’s been bringing me coffee lately, even though I’ve told her a million times I don’t want it because you always make it just the way I like before I leave and I don't need more. And when she doesn’t bring coffee, it’s some kind of baked good. I don’t get it! If she’s looking for favoritism, why not try to suck up to the professor? I’m just the TA."

A sudden tightness gripped Y/N’s chest as she processed his words. It was clear now—Wren was flirting with him. But why did that thought send an unexpected wave of discomfort through her? Jealousy, maybe? No, that didn’t make sense... Why would she be jealous?

“She’s not looking for favoritism, Spence. She’s looking for a way to get into your pants,” Y/N snickered, ignoring yet another wave of unease that crashed into her at the mental image of Spencer actually having sex with Wren. Anyone would be uncomfortable thinking about their roommate having sex… right? That was a perfectly normal reaction.

Spencer suddenly choked on the popcorn he’d just popped into his mouth, coughing violently and startling Y/N. Without thinking, she leaned over, gently patting his back as concern flooded her expression. When the coughing finally subsided into a weak wheeze, she reached for his glass of water on the coffee table and handed it to him with a worried glance.

"Jesus, Spencer! Are you okay?"

"Why would you say that?"

Spencer's voice was unnervingly high, his face flushed from both the coughing fit and his growing embarrassment. He took a slow sip of water, trying to steady his racing heart. Setting the glass down with trembling hands, he adjusted his crooked glasses, his gaze avoiding hers. "For the record," he muttered, his voice tinged with insecurity, "I highly doubt she’s trying to… get in my pants."

Y/N's expression softened from concern to sympathy as her hand moved to rub his knee in comfort.

She remembered the first (and only) time she’d gotten Spencer to drink with her, how, in his tipsy state, he’d opened up about his painful past. In a rare moment of vulnerability, he’d shared how brutally he’d been bullied as a child prodigy, and how those experiences had led him to avoid romantic relationships for fear of humiliation and rejection. That night marked the turning point in their relationship, transforming them from roommates who got along to actual friends—a change she would forever be grateful for.

"You’re too hard on yourself," Y/N said gently. "Trust me on this one. As a woman, I can tell you with absolute certainty—she's flirting with you." She added, her tone matter-of-fact.

Spencer gave her a doubtful look, but after a moment, his shoulders slumped in reluctant acceptance as he began to entertain the possibility. "We’ll see," he muttered, grabbing the remote and finally starting their movie night.

It turned out Y/N had been right.

Three weeks had passed without a word from Spencer about it, and Y/N figured Wren had gotten the message and moved on. But then she began to notice Wren walking into class with a little extra bounce in her step, a shy, almost giddy smile lighting up her face as she sat down. Y/N shrugged it off… until she noticed Spencer doing the exact same thing.

Spencer began coming home later and later after class, a goofy grin on his face as he wandered through the apartment or headed to his room. Y/N didn’t ask any questions, knowing he’d share whatever was making him so happy when he was ready—though she had a pretty strong hunch about who it was. By the fourth week, he finally felt comfortable enough to confide in her.

"You won’t believe this, but I finally just asked Wren straight up if she was flirting with me… and she said yes!" Spencer said, his excitement clear as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Y/N cook. "We’ve been spending time together after class, and, uh… I asked her out on a date for this Friday!"

Y/N froze mid-stir, caught off guard by the sudden pang of sadness that hit her. Why did she feel this way? She should be happy for him—he was her closest friend, after all. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to keep stirring as she pushed the unsettling thoughts aside for the moment.

"That’s great, Spence!" Y/N said, though her voice came out a bit tighter than usual. "So… what do you have planned for your date?"

Spencer began to ramble excitedly about what he had planned for Friday, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. All it did was seem to make the feeling of dread and hurt creeping up on her worse, though she couldn't for the life of her understand why Spencer talking about his date had her so bothered. Maybe it was because she hadn't been on a date in over a year, having avoided the dating scene after her last breakup. That had to be it.

Y/N nodded absentmindedly, her mind fixated on the uneasy feeling growing inside her rather than his words. It had been so long since she’d felt anything like this, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make sense of why it was happening.

She wasn’t blind. She knew Spencer was ridiculously attractive (even if his wardrobe seemed to be straight out of an elderly man’s fashion catalog). And he was kind, thoughtful, and attentive—anyone would be lucky to date him. Yet, despite all that, she’d always seen him as nothing more than a friend. Or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

Fortunately, the timer went off, cutting Spencer off mid-sentence. He quickly shifted gears, helping her dish out their food. They moved to the living room, ready to enjoy their meal and unwind with TV, as they always did.

Spencer couldn’t help but notice that Y/N was quieter than usual. She didn’t join in with her usual banter during the show, instead taking absent-minded bites, taking bites between distant, unfocused stares at the screen. His brow furrowed as he put his fork down, observing her slowly push her food around without really eating.

"Y/N… are you alright?" Spencer asked, lowering the volume on the TV. "You’ve barely touched your food."

"Hm?" Y/N looked up, offering a faint smile as she shrugged. "Yeah… I’m fine, Spence. Just a little tired, I guess."

He didn’t fully buy it, but he decided not to push further. "How about a nap in my lap while I grade papers, then? After dinner, of course. I don’t want your head in my food," Spencer joked, pleased with himself. His lame humor had her rolling her eyes and grinning, stifling a laugh.

That had become normal for them: napping or cuddling, quick pecks on the cheek or top of the head when one of them left, cooking and eating together… the list went on. But the more Y/N thought about it, the more she realized it didn’t exactly align with typical roommate behavior. Or maybe it did, and she was just overanalyzing, letting the strange feeling she couldn’t shake make her paranoid.

"That sounds perfect," Y/N agreed, silently hoping the nap would help clear her mind.

They finished dinner, chatting between bites about their day. Spencer, ever the gentleman, told her to stay on the couch while he cleared their plates and rinsed them. After grabbing the stack of papers he needed to grade for Professor Hartman from his room, he returned, settling back onto the couch with a grin as he patted his lap.

Y/N eased into his lap, stretching her legs out across the couch as she nestled her head into the crook of his neck with a contented sigh. Spencer ran a hand down her back as she settled in, giving her hip a gentle pat before picking up the first paper to grade.

It didn't take long for Y/N to drift off in his arms, her breath warm against his skin as he graded papers. The room was quiet except for the soft rhythm of her breathing, the rustling of the papers as he flipped through them, and the occasional hum of a car passing outside. Spencer paused his grading, his gaze drifting down to Y/N as she slept peacefully in his arms. A fond expression softened his features as he watched her, her calmness soothing him. Slowly, he reached up and caressed her cheek with his knuckles, then resumed his work, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer.

Spencer’s eyelids drooped as he made his way through the last few papers, small yawns escaping him between each one. When he finished, he quietly set the stack on the coffee table, taking care not to disturb Y/N. With a gentle shift, he settled back into the cushions, bringing one hand to cradle her head as he adjusted their position on the couch. He carefully maneuvered so he could stretch out before pulling her closer, tucking her into his side.

It was late enough that Spencer didn’t see the need to wake her; he knew if he did, she’d be up for hours. Reaching behind him, he turned off the lamp, letting the room fall into darkness. The soft rhythm of her breathing eased him, and soon, he drifted off, her warmth grounding him. In minutes, they were both asleep, entwined in the quiet comfort of each other’s arms.

As the week passed, Y/N found it increasingly difficult to cope with the thought of Spencer going on his date with Wren. Every time he brought it up, she quickly steered the conversation elsewhere or found an excuse to slip away, guilt gnawing at her with every evasive move. She hated herself for it—he was genuinely excited, and she didn’t want to ruin that. But every mention of the date made her stomach twist, and she couldn’t bring herself to face it without feeling like she was being torn apart.

Y/N finally understood why the idea of him going on a date was so devastating to her nervous system.

Late Tuesday night, as Y/N lay awake in bed, a sudden, jarring realization hit her: she had fallen in love with Spencer. Somewhere over the past seven months, amid shared laughs, quiet moments, and unexpected tenderness, she had fallen hopelessly for the brilliant, quirky man she had sworn she'd never fall for.

And now, because she was a spineless coward who was too afraid to risk their friendship by speaking up, she found herself helping Spencer get ready for his date.

"Spencer, seriously—hold still! I'm almost done," Y/N grumbled, her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth as she fixed his hair.

Spencer let out an exasperated sigh but stopped shifting, almost going cross-eyed as he tried to focus on her. She was so close now that he could almost taste the minty freshness of her gum, her breath brushing his face making him more flustered than he expected. He nervously twiddled his fingers in his lap, his curiosity piqued as he waited to see how she had tamed his unruly strands.

"There you go. What do you think?" Y/N grinned proudly, stepping back to give him space as he stood from where he was sitting on the toilet lid, turning to face the bathroom mirror.

Spencer turned his head from side to side, eyes lingering on his reflection. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he examined himself. For the first time, he felt it—he felt good. Like he could finally see what Y/N saw when she insisted he was handsome. Instead of his typical gelled, slicked-down look, she'd arranged his hair to accentuate his face, giving his features a more defined, natural appeal.

"I... Y/N, I love it. Thank you," Spencer breathed earnestly, turning to pull her into a warm hug.

Y/N smiled gently, wrapping her arms around him. The newfound confidence in his eyes was enough to ease the ache in her chest about his date. At least, she thought, he was finally seeing himself the way she always had—worthy and deserving of feeling this good.

“Of course, Spence. Anything for you,” she murmured, the words feeling heavier than she intended. She meant it, though. She would do anything for him—even if it meant shattering her own heart along the way.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Y/N released a long, shaky breath, pressing her forehead against the cool wood for a moment before slowly making her way to Spencer's room. He had told her not to wait up, mentioning he planned on going to Wren’s afterward. So, she curled up in his blanket, clutching his pillow to her chest, trying to let the comfort of his familiar scent quiet her restless mind.

Less than five minutes passed before the tears began to fall, each one soaking into the fabric of his pillow as a sob broke free from her chest. She felt pathetic. There she was, crumpled in his bed while he was out on a date, all because she couldn’t find the courage to tell him how she felt—too afraid to admit the truth, convinced that he could never feel the same way about her.

The hours slipped by in a blur, her tears long gone as exhaustion weighed heavily on her. Too weary to move to her own bed, she simply tossed her pants to his floor, closed her eyes, and let sleep take over in the comfort of his sheets. She'd remake his bed in the morning before he got home, hoping he'd never know about the quiet, tearful night she'd spent there.

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, his fingers grazing his scalp as he quietly unlocked the door and stepped into the dark apartment. The date had gone fine, nothing awful… but there was a difference between nice and right. Wren was nice, but she wasn’t the one his heart had been quietly waiting for. That person was the other half of this apartment, likely fast asleep in her room, just as he’d told her to be—and he couldn’t shake the feeling she should’ve been the one he’d been out with tonight.

Spencer hung his jacket on the coat rack and slipped off his shoes, setting them neatly by the door. He headed toward his room, eager to leave the awkwardness of the evening behind and looking forward to starting the next day with the one person who truly made his world feel right. Though Y/N wasn’t his, there was a quiet comfort in knowing she was always the first face he’d see each morning. Maybe one day, he'd find the courage to tell her how he felt. But for now, he was content cherishing their friendship.

He couldn't shake the slight guilt he felt for Wren, a cringe running through him as he replayed the moment she'd tried to kiss him when he dropped her off. When she leaned in, he'd jerked back instinctively, his eyes wide in shock, leaving her face flushed with embarrassment. He’d apologized immediately, of course, and she’d been kind enough to accept it before hurriedly retreating into her house. Still, he couldn't help but feel the discomfort linger, knowing their interactions in class would be uncomfortable from here on out.

Spencer pushed open his door, too exhausted to bother with the light as he shrugged off his clothes, blindly stumbling toward the bed. He let out a sigh of relief as he collapsed onto the mattress—only to freeze when something beneath him let out a loud, panicked yelp. He scrambled back in shock, crashing to the floor in a clumsy heap, cursing loudly.

"What the fuck?" Spencer gasped, reaching for his lamp from the ground as he quickly sat up.

Y/N blinked at him in startled surprise, her brow furrowed and mouth slightly agape as she took in the sight of him sprawled on the floor. Spencer felt a wave of relief wash over him, his body sagging as he realized she wasn’t some weird, perverted burglar waiting for him. Still, as the shock wore off, confusion crept in. Why was she in his bed?

“Are you alright?” Y/N squeaked, instinctively reaching down to help Spencer back onto the bed. Her mind was still foggy with sleep, and her heart was racing from the jarring wake-up call.

Spencer quickly slid under the covers, suddenly self-conscious of his state of undress, his face flushing as he glanced at her. He cleared his throat and gave a small nod. "I'm good, just… uh, why are you in my bed?"

Y/N hesitated, her teeth gently catching her lower lip as she searched for an excuse that wouldn't sound ridiculous. But nothing came to mind. With a deep breath, she finally decided to just tell him the truth.

"I… I wasn't handling your date with Wren very well," Y/N confessed, her voice low. "I came in here hoping to get some peace because being near you usually makes me feel better. But instead, I just ended up crying myself to sleep in your bed. I'm really sorry," she added, her brows knitting together as she looked at him. "Wait—why are you here? I thought you were going to stay at Wren's."

Spencer’s expression softened as he took in her words. “I chose to come home,” he said quietly. “Wren’s nice, but tonight made me realize there’s really only one person I want across from me, or kissing me, or… anything else.” He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “But what do you mean you weren’t handling my date well? Why did you cry yourself to sleep, sweetheart?”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words, a wave of worry washing over her as her fatigue made it harder to hold back what she was feeling. Who could he possibly be talking about? She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before she finally spoke.

“I’ve been trying to figure this out for a while,” she began, her voice soft but steady. “And, Spence… I think I’m in love with you. I’ve probably been in love with you for a long time, but I was too afraid to admit it to myself. Every time I thought about you with her, I felt so… sick. So jealous. Because I wanted to be the one you were with. I wanted to be the one you fell in love with.”

The words hung in the air between them, raw and unguarded. It was out in the open now. There was nothing left to hide.

To her surprise, Spencer let out a soft chuckle. Before she had a chance to take offense, he reached for her hands, holding them gently as he spoke.

"Y/N… you're already the one I've fallen in love with," Spencer confessed, his voice steady as his eyes held hers. "You're the reason I came back. As I sat across from her, it hit me—there’s no one else in this world that I’d rather be with than you."

Y/N blinked hard, ensuring that she wasn’t asleep and that this wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t. He was still there when she opened her eyes, sitting cross legged and vulnerable (and enticingly bare under the covers) before her as he waited for her to respond. He tilted his head at that, laughing softly as his face scrunched in confusion.

“What are you doing, silly girl? I confess my love to you and your response is to blink at me like an owl?” Spencer teased, his nose twitching as he grinned.

Y/N huffed out a laugh of her own, gently squeezing his hands as she shook her head. “I’m sorry! I just— I wanted to make sure this was real,” she murmured, her eyes falling to their hands in her lap.

“Would… would a kiss help to solidify that it’s real?” Spencer offered, a shy smile on his face.

Y/N’s eyes widened at that, baffled but pleased with his newfound confidence. Maybe she should do his hair more often. Without a word, she nodded eagerly, leaning forward to gently capture his lips with her own.

The press of his lips against hers sent her spinning, as though reality itself was slipping away and all that remained was the grounding warmth of his hands cradling her face. Spencer’s kiss was all-encompassing—like she was the very breath he needed to live. She craved more, desperate to fan the flames between them until the heat ignited, consuming them both from within.

Spencer’s lips never left hers as he gently tilted his head, deepening the kiss with a slow, deliberate movement. He carefully lowered her to the bed, his hands supporting her as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers. "Feel real enough for you, yet?" he whispered, his breath warm against her skin, the faintest brush of his lips lingering as if he couldn’t bear to pull away for even a second.

Y/N rolled her eyes at his teasing, lacing her fingers into his hair to tug gently in retaliation. The whine he let out sent a sharp pang of desire up her spine, and she tugged harder just to hear it again.

“Mm, not yet. I think you’ll have to do it again to really convince me.”

The words barely filled the space between them before his lips were back on hers. She let out a soft exhale as his hips settled against hers, unable to help the giggles that slipped free when she felt his hard cock pressing against her through his boxers. She wasn’t laughing at him, not at all. She was just lost in pure, blissful joy, reveling in the realization that he was finally hers.

“Stop giggling and kiss me back,” Spencer muttered, his voice laced with playful frustration, but her laughter was contagious, and soon he was laughing too. Their lips remained pressed together, but it was more of a chaotic, shared moment than an actual kiss. As they pulled away, both of them breathless, the last of his nerves melted away, and they simply stared at each other, the connection now clearer than ever.

Spencer had imagined plenty of times what it would look like to have her splayed underneath him in his bed (thoughts that were shamefully fueled by her soft sounds of pleasure through their shared wall whenever she thought he was asleep). Nothing his imagination had dreamed up could ever compare to the sight before him. She looked utterly captivating, her cheeks flushed, lips slightly swollen from their kisses, eyes looking up at him with that familiar warmth. He always thought she was beautiful, without a doubt. But in this moment? She was a living, breathing work of art. A stunning, half-dressed masterpiece who was wrapping her legs around his waist with a shit-eating grin and—

“Oh—!”

Spencer squeaked as Y/N arched her hips into his again, grinding against him in a way that provided delicious friction against his aching cock. Spencer had never been more turned on than he was in this moment, the need thrumming through his veins driving him to rock gently against her in return.

Y/N’s grin faltered as her breath hitched, her brows pinching together as he began to thrust shakily against her through their underwear. Her mouth dropped open into a silent gasp as the head of his arousal brushed against her clit through the thin fabric, a helpless whine leaving her lips shortly after as he repeated the movement.

They were both too tired and too in love to rush their first time together (and Spencer’s first time in general), so they settled for this: the steady push and pull of their hips grinding together as their lips began to devour each other’s once more. The room quickly filled with their muffled noises of pleasure; soft moans and whimpers between passionate kisses and the rustling of his covers as they moved against each other creating an explicit symphony.

Spencer’s movements became more fervent as Y/N licked into his mouth, her nails dragging across his shoulder blades encouraging him to keep going. His body trembled as he felt her arousal dampening the front of his boxers, a guttural moan wrenching its way from his throat. She was soaked. All because of him.

Y/N’s head tipped back against his pillows, her eyes squeezed shut as she felt the pleasure coiling tightly in her lower stomach. His lips immediately moved to the crook of her neck, nipping and sucking gently at the skin there between whimpers of her name. It felt erotic, the both of them so turned on despite their exhaustion that they couldn’t help their movements, desperate to experience the other falling apart.

She’d make it up to him later, when she could actually take her time with him and make his first time something special, something memorable. But for now, she was perfectly content with this.

“Spence I’m—“ Y/N gasped, tangling her fingers into his hair as she began to writhe underneath him. “I’m about to—“

Her orgasm washed over her like a cold bucket of water, yanking the air from her lungs and making her body tense up as she cried out his name and clung to him. Spencer groaned alongside her, pulling his head from the crook of her neck so that he could watch her in awe. The sight alone almost had him cumming, his movements growing frantic as he chased his pleasure.

Her soft whines urged him closer and closer to the finish line as he rutted against her, and all he could manage was a soft shout of her name before his climax took hold of him, his cock throbbing against her as he spilled into his boxers. He collapsed against her, thrusting weakly with small whimpers to ride out both of their highs before his hips finally stilled.

Their chests heaved as they laid together, catching their breath. Y/N’s hands raked through Spencer’s hair, fighting to stay awake long enough so that they could clean up. When Spencer could finally move, he lifted up onto his forearms, pressing small, gentle kisses to her lips with murmured thank you’s before he climbed out of his bed to grab a towel from the bathroom. Once they were cleaned and stripped out of their cum-soaked clothes (to which Y/N and Spencer both giggled excessively about as they wriggled out of them), Spencer reached over to turn off his lamp.

Drained but happy, they collapsed into each other’s embrace, winding together in Spencer’s bed and surrendering to the pull of sleep. Just before sleep claimed him, Spencer pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to Y/N’s forehead, whispering, "I love you, my sweet girl."

A soft smile tugged at his lips when he heard her whisper back, "I love you too, my sweet boy."

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[meowpupp]

as a thank you for hitting 1k followers, and an apology for my absence, I would like to share my take on poly!141.

poly141! x recruit!reader. 1.5k words. mentions of sex, although no smut. yet.

you're a sweet little thing. smart as a whip, nerdy, and confident. having spent most of your post highschool graduate years studying, youve acquired numerous impressive qualifications. while most people your age in university were out partying, getting blind drunk, hooking up, you were studying.

a tech genius. that's what laswell had sold you as to price. he had been hesitant to allow any new members at all, especially ones so young. and yet, taskforce 141 sees two new additions. the newest little tech genius who's climbing quickly through the ranks, and another soldier. someone by the name of roach.

at first, you weren't amused. as a woman in the military, your life was already difficult enough. being assigned to an all male taskforce felt like your worst nightmare. but after some convincing from laswell, and realizing this would be the fastest way to make a name for yourself, you sign the papers.

your first week is smooth, albeit awkward. you and the other new recruit, roach, get along fairly well. he's funny, a little dorky, but obviously skilled. he isn't as intimidating as the others, being almost as young as you. you find yourself gravitating to him often, often staying up late together, eating meals together, and even training together. you make quick friends.

and so, it's only natural that you both end up becoming… closer. late night talks turn into makeouts, and makeouts turn into grinding. it's somewhat clumsy however… as if the two of you can quite place the power dynamics.

the others, however, are much more of a challenge to get along with. you're cautious, aware these men have been in this business much longer than you. the four of them- price, ghost, gaz, and soap- are a power unit. it takes weeks for you to find your place within the team.

price tries to be welcoming, although it doesn't quite work. there's this sense of authority and power around him that makes you feel small, almost submissive. his gruff voice sends shivers down your spine each time he speaks over comms, panties growing wet each time he gives you a direct order.

it's almost as if he knows, whispering your name rather than your military nickname. his voice sounds almost seductive. it makes you feel like a pervert, imagining him growling in your ear each time you get off.

price has a way of always remaining in control and not just with you. the power dynamics within the task force are subtle yet well established. there seems to be a chain of command that follows their ranks. price on top, then ghost, then gaz and soap. you notice how they all drop casual innuendos, their affection for each other, corssing over the boundary of just friendliness.

ghost barely looks, let alone, speaks to you for the first month. you're unsure if he even likes you. on the field, he's sharp and alert. you occasionally hear him share banter with the others, but never feel brave enough to join in. the man is intimidating, almost three times your size, a quiet sort of confidence and dominance that follows him around. he's the one you train with most often.

ghost is ruthless. he slams you into the matt, somehow always ending up between your thighs, his big hands holding them apart and pinning you down. you can't help but memorise the sight. your Lieutenant, panting, slightly sweat as he holding you in such a lewd position, glaring down at you.

it's your favourite fantasy to think about late at night as you touch yourself, unaware that the walls are so thin that ghost himself hears you whimper his name. he strokes himself in time with the slick noises of your cunt, imagining how desperate you must look.

gaz isn't intimidating, per say. he isn't distant like ghost or unapproachable like price. the man has such a casual confidence and arrogance around him. he's the first to speak to you, ask you about yourself. throughout your career, you've met many military soldiers. most the men fit into two categories, misogynistic dicks who don't believe you have a place within the ranks, or disgusting perverts who want a quick fuck (most of them have wives, even kids.) but gaz is refreshing. he fits into neither.

he often starts conversations with you. asking questions and truly listening as you speak. little do you know he records each one, saving them for when he's alone late at night. something about the way you speak, your tone, the quiet rasp or accent, it makes him stupidly hard. he's not above recording you while you workout, standing just close enough to capture each huff and grunt as you lift. it's those recordings that get him off the quickest, wondering how whiny youd sound if he held a vibrator to your clit, didnt let up until you were crying and covered in slick.

and soap. the man is difficult for you to read. your first impression is that he's one of those men who fit into the ‘misogynistic asshole’ category. apart from your initial meeting, he practically ignores you.

you can tell its not deliberate. he just seems more immersed in the natural, pre-established dynamic of the taskforce. the one that doesn't include you. it takes a while, but after a month or two, your interactions become more common.

he turns out to be very respectful- even helpful. due to your background in tech, you skipped a few ranks when you joined. soap helps you in the shooting range. standing behind you, body pressing into yours from behind, correcting your posture before you fire.

you even create games with each other. he gives you little quizzes. theyre normally about gun components, military jargon, or even field upgrades. with each quiz he promises a ‘reward.’

its embarrassing whenever you blush and grow wet when he says it. the rough growl of his voice, combined with the accent he has, all makes you dizzy. you don't even notice how he plays it up, practically purring out the word, smirking as you squirm, making sure to graze his fingertips over your hot skin.

it's obvious that after a month or two, that roach is significantly more acclimated than you. it feels unfair. your relationship with each member is steadily growing, yet something about how roach interacts with them is so different. it's like you're missing a puzzle piece.

it isn't until one night when you're venting your frustration that roach reveals the reason he's clicked with them so quickly.

“It's like an initiation,” he smirks, eyes flicking away from you, “think of it kind of like…. hazing.” his eyes are almost predatory as he meets yours again, so unlike the goofy persona he usually has, “if you like, I could speak to price. they have started to discuss inviting you in.”

it's as if everything made sense now. it wasn't your fault. it was another case of discrimination, you being left out because you didn't fit into their stupid boys club.

ever since that conversation with roach, you have become frustrated, irritable, and short with them all. you fulfilled all your required tasks but refused to engage with them any further. denying invites to the pub, ignoring gaz when he tried to speak, training alone, no longer asking soap for help.

after about a week of this, price calls you to his office.

a sick sense of unease and anxiety settles in your gut. the man is so intimidating, and this surely wasn't a positive meeting. you've never been in a position like this. all throughout school, you were a grade A student, and within your years in the military, you've always maintained basic respect and politeness. you've never been in trouble with a CO.

when you step into his office, however, all your expectations are subverted. price sits at his desk, smoking a cigar. roach leans against it next to him. the two of them are speaking lowly.

price notices you first. his eyes carry an emotion you haven't seen before. lust. he's staring at you as if you're some sort of prey. with a smirk, he blows out a large puff of smoke. it curls around him, only making him more intimidating.

“if you were feeling excluded, sweetheart, you should've made me aware.” he leans back in his chair. suddenly, the room feels so small, your body getting hot, “id be more than happy to include you.”

roach walks towards you, guiding you further into the office. he doesn't let you sit, however, instead standing behind you, hands groping your hips. his fingertips slip under your shirt, brushing the sensitive skin of your stomach.

he kisses your neck, “price wants to see how pretty you are,” his hands slide further up, taking your shirt off, “let's give him a show, yeah?”

cont.

[smutinlove]

hi! how are you? can I make a request? so ive been imagining in my head how would jason react to reader going to the wayne gala with him? (for being more especific after jason introduce reader to the batfamily reader gets invited by jason's family to go to the wayne gala)

how would the batfamily treat her? how does Jason behave on gala nights?? sorry for so many questions lol

thanks for reading this <3

y'all are FEEDING THE DEMON inside me. slay

-not proof-read. has punctuation mistakes (probably. maybe.. idk)

•after a few embarrassing encounters (for jason HAHA) with his family, you were formally invited to have dinner with them. and dinner turned into an invitation to the wayne gala. pretty big, huh?

•at first, you were hesitant... but jason said he wouldn't go without you and you did not want that. so you went with him.

•i mean, it was one thing being with him. but his arm wrapped around you waist while he introduced you to everyone, calling you his, "girlfriend."

•and whenever he called you his girlfriend, he blushed and smiled.

•i mean, usually jason would be one of those "macho, no feelings/emotions need to be shown" kind of men. but when he's with you, it's a whole new genre.

•he's so gentle with you. your dress got stuck? he'll buy you a new one. hungry during the gala? he'll make you sit down and give you a plate filled with food. (his siblings said that he's so chaotic during gala nights... not true.)

•and omg, speaking of his siblings, they are so protective over both of you. if you hurt him, count your days. if he hurt you, that's a different book in general.

•dick is like an older brother, except he is so sweet and genuine. he knows everything about everyone. tim is like the nerdy but really chaotic younger brother. he's super smart, but also on the brink of causing an alien invasion and murdering everyone in the galaxy. but he's just a goofy little boy <3

•steph is such a girl's girl. she's so friendly and sweet. she's an angel, i swear. cassandra cain doesn't talk much. but she isn't untoward or rude to you. she just doesn't talk a lot. but she has said a few nice words to you.

•damien... that little minx is formal. but once you break down his barriers, he is just another child and child soldier. you and him bonded over your love for animals. he even introduced you to alfred the cat.

•now, papa wayne, the man, the myth, the bat. bruce wayne. he was very friendly. holy shit, this man raised amazing children. he deserves the world. he is very sweet to you, always making sure you're comfortable. he's like a dad to you. (i wish he was my dad)

•alfred, the heart of the bat family. he's formal too sometimes. but he's really nice. he's helpful and witty. he knows everything about every member of the bat/wayne family. if you want to see jason in diapers or when he was in an awkward teenage phase, ask him. he has pics of EVERY batfam member.

•let's just say that jason was raised by amazing people. and those same people adore you with everything.

jason is my pookie bear. he's just a big cuddly teddy bear and i love him for that

[pomefioredove]

movie night

summary: vil devotes his time to showing you all the movies you haven't seen yet type of post: short fic characters: vil schoenheit additional info: romantic, FLUFF, reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, kinda short author's note: I so often think about how yuu is completely unfamiliar with pop culture in twisted wonderland. vil would lose his mind if he found out you hadn't seen a single movie yet. in my heart I know he's a little nerdy about it

It's to be expected.

Of course. Of course you haven't had the time or the means.

It's perfectly reasonable that you'd put your studies and social obligations before leisure time. He understands.

But hearing you so openly admit that you haven't seen a single movie since arriving in this world, let alone one of his, doesn't sit well with Vil Schoenheit.

As it turns out, the mythological being who doesn't spend their free time absorbed in media is real, and they're standing right in front of him with an apologetic smile.

Oh, you poor, poor thing.

Even after the conversation dies and you part ways on good terms, Vil can't shake this odd, itchy feeling.

He wonders what it must be like- not understanding anyone's references, being left out of conversations, still so dependent on a culture that doesn't even exist here.

Is there something wrong with the people you spend your time with? Surely at least one of them would take the time to show you the classics. Just one.

No wonder everyone regards you as naive and innocent. No one's taken the time to explain anything about this world to you. And he's sure that extends far beyond cinema...

"What is this?"

It's the first thing you ask when he opens the door to you. Ever curious, ever clueless.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" he says, looking thoroughly unamused with your naivete.

A projector. A white screen. And a tray full of luxury skincare essentials that he'll be sure to test on you while you're distracted.

"Seriously," you say. "What's going on? Your message was really vague."

He sighs. "Oh, goodness, just come inside,"

Vil sits you down on the edge of his bed and hands you a plush headband to push your hair out of your eyes. He's more than pleased at your lack of protests thus far, and continues to take advantage of your willingness while smearing a sweet-smelling face mask over your cheeks.

"It needs to set before we start,"

"Start what?"

Vil smirks, standing and drifting across the room to a large wardrobe- no, a cabinet. He opens it- no, a shelf. Packed full of DVDs, arranged by date and in pristine condition.

"Wow, Vil. I never took you for a nerd,"

His gaze sharpens. "Hardly. And try not to talk so much right now, you'll crack the mask,"

He hums merrily, delicate fingers dancing over the smooth plastic cases before stopping at a soft white one. "This'll do,"

You watch as Vil returns to your side, carefully inspects your face, and then walks back around to tinker with the projector. You, of course, wait patiently, hands folded neatly in your lap as the screen ahead of you comes to life.

He turns off the lights and sits beside you as a white light illuminates your face, turning the hue of the mask a strange color.

"This is a classic," he whispers. "It's the first film I remember loving."

"It's that good?"

He chuckles. "No, it's quite outdated, and terribly unfunny. I'm just fond of it,"

If there's anything Vil Schoenheit is, it's honest. The entire black and white picture (which you surmise is quite old by Twisted Wonderland standards) is heaped with unfunny and confusing references, terribly paced, and acted like a primary school play.

And yet, there's a sense of warmth that permeates the external terribleness of it, that of which takes form in each of Vil's awkward laughs.

You revel in each of his little comments, his tidbits about the actors, his trivia about the production. He certainly seems to know what he's talking about, and his grace and confidence almost distract you from how nerdy he's really being.

Though, he's really not paying close attention to the screen. Vil seems far more interested in watching you, your reactions, almost as if searching for some kind of approval in the expressions you make. Do you laugh at this joke? Do you ask about this plot twist? Do you enjoy this song?

It's a completely alien experience, having him looking to you for validation, although you make sure to comment on how much you enjoyed yourself. Just to see him smile again.

"Same time next week, then," he says. "One movie won't be enough to catch you up on decades of pop culture, after all."

And thus, a tradition is born.

It's strange for him to think about how you've made yourself a home in his schedule. Wedged between expensive photo shoots and meetings with luxury brands, there's you. One single name in the same spot every week.

He couldn't admit it, but you've quickly become the highlight of his calendar.

"And this is just after they transitioned to movies with sound. It was a grand extinction event, not every studio nor star survived," he says, nodding to the screen ahead.

You hum in agreement. Your eyes are heavier than usual, and you're leaning against your elbow, absent-mindedly agreeing with everything he says.

A part of Vil wants to tease you for finding his taste in film boring, but he's not even sure if you have the mental capacity to listen to big words right now.

"Sleepy?"

"Grim kept waking me up last night..." you sigh. "I'm paying attention, I promise."

He watches you lie through your teeth, and then he watches as your words grow heavy and your body slumps over, awkwardly positioned against his.

Vil sighs- whatever is he going to do with you and that terrible sleep schedule of yours?- and readjusts so that your head is neatly set in the crook of his neck and your body is comfortably fit against his.

He finishes the movie, and lets the screen play the menu sequence over and over again. It's not really worth waking you up over, after all.

You're so cute when you're sleeping.

He hates himself for thinking that. You're perfectly inelegant- awkwardly breathing, practically drooling. And yet, he could stay here for the rest of the night and not wholly regret it in the morning. He just wishes you'd picked a better time to fall asleep on him.

Someday, he'd gladly return to bed to cuddle with you after he'd done his evening routine.

But... just this once, he'll let it go.

[glamourscat]

Omg I loved your Tim headcanons??? Can I request Tim crush headcanons. Just anything about Tim having a crush on the reader and how he will try to flirt with them

a/n: i have already done a more general hcs w all of the bats + bruce and how they act when they have crushes (you can find it here)

i wanted to explore more of tim's, so here's me yapping some more lol :') thank you for the request, i hope it's what you were looking for <3

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

He is not the best at handling his emotions, we have seen that in different cases. He is headstrong when needed, with a drive and a passion that's almost scary. Because you see this lean guy, 5ft7 on a good day, who's absolutely unhinged doing the most random things on a Tuesday morning and you are just there thinking "how is he not a danger to society?" (someone pls tell me you get the reference lmao)

Still, when having a crush his passionate, unhinged and almost erratic behaviour doesn't go away. If anything, it mutates between a mix of awkwardness, cuteness and nerdiness. An intriguing mix of nervousness, sweetness, and the occasional awkwardness.

As someone who is naturally observant and analytical, he might be cautious and deliberate in his approach, trying to gauge how the person feels before making any moves.

He would for sure be the type of person to do nice, kind gestures in really subtle ways. It's all about showing how much he cares but under the radar at first.

From helping you on cases, if you're a vigilante. Patrolling together or going to missions together. Bringing your favourite snacks or even accompany you somewhere. The thing is, if you're Tim's crush, you're also his best friend-- or at least, a really close friend. So, all of these acts would almost feel natural, if not normal.

Now my fav, the ✦ Awkward Flirting ✦

He is so awkward that you get second hand embarrassment. He might try to make a joke or even a little comment, but it comes out a bit too nerdy or forced because he is trying so hard to the point it's not even more him:

“So, did you know that if you’re ever stuck in an elevator, you should press the emergency button and NOT just wait around like most people do?” (awkward pause) “Not that you’d ever get stuck, I mean. I just thought it might be... helpful.”

BLUSHING. Oh 100%.  Tim’s blush is immediately visible when he's around his crush. It might happen when you say something kind, when his attention lingers on you too long, or when you smile at him.

He’s the type who will fumble with his words, maybe try to play it cool by pretending he’s focusing on whatever he was doing.

I have said it before too, but he will over analyze and overthink like crazy. Every interaction with you becomes a ground to investigate. "Wait-- they smiled at me more than usual today" our delusional king <3

someone will definitely notice. I have the feeling Jason would be the first. Would he help? absolutely no. he would tease tim. which will prompt him to go to steph or barbs BUT only if he is truly desperate. Like, he has reached a point where he is staring at the ceiling at night unable to sleep because he keeps overthinking and so he pushes himself to ask for help. it might backfire on him, it might not. but who knows right?

Indirect Compliments are also a big thing. He might not say "hey I like you" straight to your face, but he will send signals. He’d throw out little compliments disguised as casual observations.

He is just a spontaneous dork. He has that nerdy rizz, if you know, you know.

“look, it's us” (cue cutting to him showing you a tiktok of two cats cuddles snuggling)

which on the matter of TikTok, he will SPAM you with stuff. Memes, tiktoks everything. Daily random selfies or random texts after patrol in the early hours of the morning.

Lastly, his body language is a dead give away too. And would betray him so badly. He might lean in a bit when you’re talking, keep his gaze on you for just a little too long, or even get a little fidgety when you're near. He’d try not to be too obvious, but you'd catch him looking at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, only for him to quickly look away blushing when your eyes meet. (should I do a oneshot about this? let me know)

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[auras-moonstone]

OMG!!! IDK IF YOU'RE TAKING REQUESTS BUT IF YOU ARE CAN YOU DO A NERD!ETHAN X CHEER CAPTAIN!READER. WHERE ETHAN THINKS SHES GOING TO BE REALLY RUDE BUT SHE TURNS OUT TO BE REALLY SWEET?! THEN, THEY TAKE AN INTREST IN EACHOTHER??? YOU DONT HAVE TO BUT IF YOU DO THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH!! AND I LOVEEEEE YOUR WORK!

i have been thinking of doing something like this for a while actually!! hope you like it🤍

i know places — ethan landry

word count: 1,872

pairing: nerd!ethan landry x cheerleader!fem!reader

summary: y/n needs help with her english essay and nerdy ethan offers his help

WHEN ETHAN HEARD HIS NAME BEING CALLED, EVERYTHING STOPPED. It wasn’t the fact that it was literally shouted aloud in the hallway, making everyone’s attention drift towards the person who had yelled it. It was the fact that said person was Y/N Y/L/N—cheer captain and prettiest girl in the school. Why was she saying his name? Actually, how did she even know his name?

Ethan didn’t have time to think, because she was moving towards him like a full on rainstorm and Ethan felt his legs getting weak, as if there were about to fail him. “Ethan!” she said breathlessly from running down the hall.

“H-hi” Ethan replied in a low voice, blood rushing to his face because of the unwanted attention. She was going to say something really hurtful and everyone was going to hear it. Cheerleaders making fun of people like Ethan wasn’t something uncommon, he had experienced it countless of times.

“Shit. I caused a scene, didn’t I? I’m so sorry” she sounded genuine, which made Ethan confused. Where was the insult? “I called your name before you exited the classroom, but you didn’t seem to hear me”. Ethan’s brain seemed to have been failing him because he was not able to utter a single syllable. “Anyways, you left your coat” she showed him the blue cloth that belonged to him with a tiny smile on her face.

He cleared his throat, coming back to his senses “Oh… thank you”

“You’re welcome!” Y/N said with a bright smile. “I’m Y/N, by the way”.

“I’m Ethan” he did an awkward wave, which the cheerleader thought was very adorable.

“Yeah, I know. You sit next to me in English” Y/N let out a little laugh.

The boy laughed nervously “Right, I know, I just thought you wouldn’t remember”

“Well, I remember you, Ethan Landry” she assured him with a smile, making him blush even harder. This reaction brought Y/N a sense of victory, and she decided she enjoyed seeing the boy blush for her “Are you taking the coat or you’re going to keep staring at me?”

“Oh, sorry” he grabbed the coat with shaky hands. That’s when Y/N noticed the piece of paper he was holding and the A+ written in red marker.

“You got an A+ in the Brave new world essay?” she asked surprised.

“Y-yeah” was this the part she was going to mock him? He knew her being nice was too good to be true.

But, once again, she surprised him. “Do you mind if I take a look at it? I didn’t do so well in mine” Y/N asked, feeling a bit embarassed by confessing that.

“Yeah, sure, no problem”

As she read, he took the opportunity to admire her. Y/N’s shiny hair fell flawlessly over her face, creating some kind of curtain. He wanted to tuck it behind her ear, but it would be extremely weird. His eyes then went to her face: her eyes were furrowed as she took in the words written on the paper, and she bit her lip in concentration—Ethan felt the need to brush his finger against it, because that action drove him crazy—and suddenly his heart clenched when he noticed her saddened expression.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“I’m not doing so well in English. If I don’t pass the make-up exam, I won’t be able to keep my position as cheer captain”

“You still have a chance, then” he tried to light up her mood.

“Yeah, but if this is what I have to write in order to pass… I’m screwed. I could never write something like this” Y/N sighed in frustration “Your writing is completely amazing, by the way”

“Thanks. I could tutor you, if you want” the words left his mouth before he could think twice.

“Really?”

Her eyes shone with such hope that he couldn’t say anything but, “Yes”.

Y/N wanted to hug him so bad, but she noticed how uncomfortable he was under the gaze of others, and her touching him was only going to make things worse for him. People were already whispering things such us: ‘Why is Y/N talking to that nerd?’ ‘Does he even go here?’ ‘Isn’t he the one who is always answering questions in Econ?’

She resisted the urge to scowl at every single person in the hallway. Why they gotta be so mean? “Thank you so much! When are you available?”.

“Any day, to be honest. But you have cheerleading practice, so you tell me”

He was so considerate and adorable she wanted to cry. “So make-up exam is this friday, meaning we have today, tomorrow and Thursday. Is it okay if we meet those days at 6:30?”

“Yeah, no problem. Can you come over to my dorm? The library is always crowded during exam weeks”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll give you my number so you can text me your address” he handed her his phone and typed her number. “There you go”

“I’ll text you as soon as classes finish”

“Thank you so much, Ethan. You don’t know how thankful I am”

“What if I turn out to be the worst tutor ever?” he joked.

Y/N laughed. “I know you won’t. And even if you were, I’m still very thankful you are spending your free time doing this for me”

He shrugged “It’s my pleasure”

Y/N STARED AT THE RESULT IN COMPLETE SHOCK. Were her eyes deceiving her? Was Mr. Keating pulling a joke on her?

“Excellent work, Mrs. Y/L/N. Your analysis was espectacular and your writing and vocabulary have improved immensely in such short time” Mr. Keating told her.

“Thank you so much!” she exclaimed, grabbing the paper as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

“May I ask, did you have help or did you study on your own?” there was no accusatory tone, just curiosity.

“Ethan helped me, sir. I definitely wouldn’t have passed without him”

“Oh, that’s nice of him. He’s an excellent student and writer”

“The best” Y/N nodded in agreement. “Speaking of him, I should thank him, for the hundredth time in the past three days”

ethan!!!!!! 🥹

i need to talk to you.

okay! see you after school? 👀

no. right now

oh, everything okay?

yes, don’t worry. i know a place we can talk alone

under the bleachers?

sure. see you in 5?

see you! <3

If there was one thing Y/N knew about Ethan before he even started tutoring her was that he was completely terrified of attention. That’s why they never talked at school, only texted (a lot). Both of them became close, and soon tutoring wasn’t the only thing they hung out for. After they were done studying, she would stay for dinner and a movie, and together they shared their opinions on them.

Y/N also found out that, when he wasn’t around students and their gossiping mouths, Ethan was beyond funny and outgoing. And also, while he was adorable and sweet, Y/N discovered that he had a flirty side—which she enjoyed very much and she always let him know that by blushing like a school girl. It was safe to say that the girl had absolutely fallen for the boy’s charm.

And Ethan fell for her charm too. She was kind, talented, beyond smart—which she always said was a lie, but Ethan was always there to contradict her—understanding, and down to earth. He couldn’t believe he once thought Y/N was a mean, popular, spoiled cheerleader. She was beautiful and amazing and he liked her more than he had expected.

“Ethan!” the girl’s voice instantly made his heart start racing. The brunette raised his head from the book he was reading to see the cheerleader running towards him. Next thing he knew, she threw herself at him, and he fell on his back. Thankfully, he had been sitting so it didn’t hurt.

“Hi there!” Ethan laughed, hugging her tightly. He would never get tired of her closeness.

“I did it!” Y/N exclaimed showing her the exam, still lying on top of him.

Ethan smiled proudly “I knew you could do it! Congrats, cheer captain!”

“Thank you” she whispered, voice cracking.

“Hey… what’s wrong?”

“Happy tears. I just can’t believe I did it” she said, smiling widely. “My friends joked about having to look for a new captain, which I knew it wasn’t a joke at all and they were actually concerned. And my parents were also thinking what they were going to say when I went home with the news that I was no longer a cheerleader… but I did it, Ethan!”

“That’s awful, Y/N” he frowned. She deserved so much better “Are you seriously telling me no one had an ounce of faith in you?”

“Well, there is one person who always betted on me. He would never get tired of telling me how smart I was, even when I was constantly saying the opposite” her eyes looked so bright, he wondered if he would ever be able to look away.

“Oh yeah? So he cheers the cheerleader?” he joked, making her laugh.

“Dork” she beeped his nose “Anyways, you want me to tell you about this guy?” Ethan nodded, sitting up. Y/N remained on his lap. “So, I could talk about him for days, but I’m going to keep it simple and tell you my favorite things about him. First of all, he has the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen and I swear I could stare at them forever. He’s very passionate about movies, and his little rants about them are the best thing I’ve ever heard. He gives the best hugs in the world, but then again I might be a little biased because I just love being in his arms”

“You do?” he looked up at her in awe.

“I do” she affirmed. “He’s the only one who sees me as more than just a popular cheerleader. He’s sweet and sincere. He blushes a lot when I compliment him, just like you’re doing right now” she teased. “His smile… holy shit, it makes me forget about everything. Especially when they are directed at me”.

“He sounds handsome and amazing” he joked.

“Oh, he is. And that is why I like him so much” Y/N finally confessed.

Ethan’s jaw almost reached the floor. “You like him?”

“So much it’s physically hurting” she said, fixing the collar of his shirt.

“He likes you too” Ethan cupped her jaw.

“Then he should kiss me”

So he did, and he didn’t care anymore if anyone saw them. Their lips fitted perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle that went together, and nothing had ever felt so right for them.

“I want to be with you, Eth. I know you don’t want people to whisper about you, and I’m afraid if you are with me it’s going to be inevitable. But I want you to be my boyfriend, I don’t care if we have to keep this a secret”

Ethan shook his head “No. No secrets. I want to hold your hand in plain sight, I want to kiss you. Let them say what they won’t, I won’t hear them”

Y/N smiled and went in for another kiss. “Let’s go now. I want to show them I have the most amazing boyfriend in the world”

[happy74827]

Cool Rider

[Steve Rogers x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When another date ends in disaster, and Steve shows up in an attempt to “cheer” you up, you’re instantly against everything. But it’s Steve, and you should know by now that he never takes no for an answer.

WC: 3859

Category: Fluff

A lot of people liked my other Steve fic, so I felt inclined to make another. This time with a lot more fluff (you’re welcome @summerrivera777777).

『••✎••』

Needless to say, you were shocked when you heard the roar of a motorcycle.

You didn’t do well with dates. In your 24 years of life, you had a total of one boyfriend, and he was the absolute worst. So, in the last six months, you have been avoiding all social activities like the plague and focusing solely on yourself and your future.

That meant that you had become very comfortable being a hermit and avoiding any and all contact with other human beings. You were happy that way.

So why was a man who looked like an absolute God sitting on a motorcycle at the front door of your house?

Well, because you broke that rule a week ago.

In all fairness, the man was cute. A nerdy, awkward kind of cute. And he was a gentleman. And you were lonely.

So, when he asked you for your number, you were too lonely to turn him down. You hadn’t expected him to call, and you certainly didn’t expect him to ask you out on a date. But you also didn't think you would have the willpower to say no.

So you accepted, and it turned out to be the biggest regret of your life. The “nerd” was actually a complete dick, and after 30 minutes, you just wanted to go home. But you couldn’t because he refused to pay for the meal, so you were stuck there with him.

The worst part of the night was when he got into his car and tried to follow you home. He kept insisting that he just wanted to be a good guy and make sure that you got home safely, but you were sure that he just wanted to see where you lived and probably get in a few gropes along the way.

Luckily, you were able to lose him about three blocks from your house. It was a good thing, too, because your phone had died a couple of blocks ago, and you were afraid that if you got caught by him, you wouldn't have a way to call for help.

The next day, you made an executive decision to stay the hell away from men, with the exception of a few nice, safe friends. That was how you ended up here, seven days later, hiding in your room and ignoring your doorbell.

The bell kept ringing, and you knew that whoever was out there wasn't going to go away anytime soon. Groaning, you threw your covers off of your body and stomped towards the front door.

You threw open the door, ready to rip someone a new one, when your angry speech caught in your throat.

Steve Rogers was standing on your front porch.

He was a friend from work, to simplify a very long story. You met him two years ago when you started at SHIELD. You were a tech genius, and you worked closely with the Avengers to keep their equipment running.

Steve was always sweet and funny. You had a lot in common and were very close. After a while, you started hanging out with him and his friends, Natasha, Sam, and Bucky. It was great.

As exceptions to men go, he was definitely a big one. He was a walking god, with the physique and the looks to prove it. And here he was, on your front porch, holding keys that belonged to the motorcycle parked out front.

You looked at the motorcycle, then back to Steve, before your face went blank.

"No."

"What?"

"No."

Steve cocked an eyebrow. A smile tugged at his lips as if he were amused. "No?"

"Nope. Whatever you're trying to sell, I'm not buying."

"Why would I be trying to sell you something? I’m not even selling anything."

"It’s an expression, Steve, Jesus." You said, throwing your hands up in exasperation. Steve might’ve been your best friend, but the guy was such a 90-year-old sometimes. "If you think that I'm going to get on that thing with you, you're wrong. It's death on two wheels."

His eyes widened in surprise, a laugh bubbling in his throat. He looked over his shoulder at the bike, then back to you.

"That's... a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"I'm serious, Steve. It's not happening. I don't trust that thing, and I'm not going to die in some freak accident."

He crossed his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his leather jacket tightening over his biceps. His smile didn't fade as he spoke, which only annoyed you more.

"It's not going to kill you. I’m quite insulted that you would think that I would put you in danger."

"You're an Avenger. You put me in danger just by existing."

His lips twitched, and you had the feeling that he was holding back a comment.

"Look," he said, leaning against the door frame. "You haven't come out with us in weeks, and I'm worried. It's not healthy to lock yourself in your house all the time. With the job we have, there's never a guarantee of tomorrow, and if I were you, I'd want to spend every day living it to the fullest."

His words caught you off guard. He was right. It had been almost two months since you had gone out with the group. You just couldn't find the motivation. You were content being at home, alone. You had gotten a little lax in your friendships, only going to work and coming straight home. And now, with the… issues… with your date, you just didn't have the heart to try again.

You could feel your resolve starting to crumble, but you tried to stay strong.

"That's a low blow, Rogers." You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. "But my answer is still no."

"You think that was a low blow?” He scoffed as he pushed himself away from the door and took a step forward.

He was so much taller than you, and his presence was overwhelming. With the added tightness of his clothing and the confidence in his eyes, it tricked your eyes into seeing him as bigger than he really was. He was big, of course, but right now, it felt like he was towering over you.

Your heart began to race, a flush spreading over your cheeks.

"You clearly never played football because if you did, you'd know that this was a real low blow."

Without warning, he grabbed you by the waist and threw you over his shoulder.

"Hey!" You squealed, slapping your hand against his lower back. He was wearing a black shirt and jeans, and you could see the muscles ripple in his back with every step that he took. "Put me down!"

"You're going to have fun today."

"Steve! Put me down right now! I swear to God if you don't-"

"You'll what?" He laughed, the deep rumble making your stomach flutter. "Punish me?"

You huffed as you pounded on his back with your fist. You weren't mad at him, really; you just didn't know how to respond.

Steve practically dragged you outside. You were sure that you looked ridiculous, but you were thankful that you lived far enough away from your neighbors for no one to witness this. When he finally set you down next to the motorcycle, you gave him a glare.

"You're an ass, Steve Rogers."

He gave you a smirk as he swung his leg over the bike, his leather jacket tightening around his arm as his muscles flexed. Personally, you hated leather, but the way it fit him...

"Steve, I’m not wearing the right clothes."

He was quiet as his eyes swept over you. You were wearing shorts and a tank top since it was the middle of summer and you were hot, but he was looking at you like you were covered head to toe in leather.

"We can go buy something and change in the bathroom or something."

He seemed to think for a moment before he gave a single nod.

"Sure."

He started the bike and motioned for you to get on behind him. Goddamn it, Steve.

Sighing, you swung your leg over the bike and wrapped your arms around his torso. It was an incredibly intimate position, with your body pressed up against his and your faces mere inches apart. For a moment, you didn’t even realize when he swung a helmet down in front of your face.

"Put this on, Scaredy-Cat."

"Shut up, I'm not scared. Just... concerned."

He raised an eyebrow at you, his smirk still ever-present. You rolled your eyes before slipping the helmet onto your head.

The engine rumbled beneath you, and Steve revved the engine a couple of times, laughing when you squeaked in surprise and gripped him tighter. You could feel the laughter in his chest, his muscles moving under your fingers.

"Hold on tight, princess. Wouldn't want you falling off."

"You're a dick."

"Language."

"I will push you off this bike."

Steve didn't say anything; he just pulled the kickstand up and eased the bike into drive.

You squealed when the bike began to move, tightening your hold on Steve and burying your face in his back. He didn’t seem to mind; he just chuckled and sped up a bit.

You tried not to scream as he maneuvered the bike through traffic, weaving in and out of cars. It was a terrifying experience, especially since you had the distinct impression that Steve was taking advantage of the situation and driving recklessly.

You felt the wind on your legs and the constant hair strands whipping into your face, but you refused to look up. The speed, the closeness of the cars, and the fact that there was nothing keeping you on the bike except for Steve made it impossible to even think about moving.

When Steve finally stopped the bike, you had your eyes closed tight, and your body pressed completely up against him. Your arms were wrapped around him so tightly he was surprised you could breathe.

He took a moment to enjoy the feeling before gently prying your hands off of him and stepping off the bike. He turned and reached out a hand for you, waiting patiently for you to move. When you didn’t, he moved back towards the bike and took the helmet off your head.

You were breathing hard, trying desperately not to show how scared you were.

"It wasn’t that bad."

You shot him a glare, which made him grin.

"Just... shut up."

He laughed and helped you off the bike, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. He was a gentleman, of course, and you couldn’t complain about the feeling of his hard body pressed up against yours, but the sudden closeness was a bit overwhelming.

"Ugh, I think I have whiplash."

"Liar," said Steve with another laugh, be dramatic. You liked it, admit it."

"Whatever, why are you even kidnapping me, anyways?"

"I told you. It's not healthy to sit in a dark room, alone, all day, every day."

"First, rude.” You said, giving him a nudge in the side. He let out a small sound, which made your eyes widen in surprise.

"Did that hurt you, oh Captain, my Captain?"

"It didn't hurt," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "And second?"

"What?"

"First, rude," he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "Second?"

"Oh! Yeah, why are we actually doing this?"

That’s when Steve paused. Your heart instantly dropped at his hesitation. Steve only hesitated for two reasons. The first reason would be if he were completely at a loss for words, and clearly, by his recent attitude, that wasn’t the case. So that left the second reason: because he knew something that he either didn’t want to tell you or something he wasn’t supposed to know.

With recent events, it wasn’t difficult to guess what was happening.

"Natasha told you, didn't she."

You were already pulling away from him, ready to go back home and hide in your bed for the rest of eternity, when he caught your wrist.

“Hey,” His voice was softer, and there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “It doesn't matter. What matters is that you have a good time today, alright? So, forget about what happened, forget about what Natasha said, and just focus on having a good day. Okay?"

“I don’t want a pity date, Steve. It’s nice that you care and everything, but-”

"I'm not pity dating you." His voice was firm, and his face was hard, the complete opposite of the way it was just moments before.

"Then what do you call this? My actual date sucked, and I've been cooped up in my house, so you thought, 'Hey, why not take her out and show her a good time?'"

Steve let out a sigh and shook his head, his fingers loosening around your wrist. "No, no. That's not... I'm sorry."

The change in him was drastic. He seemed to shrink in on himself, and his head drooped like a kicked puppy.

"Steve,"

He lifted his head and looked at you, his baby-blue eyes filled with guilt.

"You have no idea how badly I want to punch that guy for treating you like that.” He spoke softly as if the words were only meant for him to hear. But, as the saying goes, the walls have ears, and the parking lot was pretty damn quiet. “But that's not what this is. You're my friend, and I hate to see you sad. I'm not here just because of a stupid date. I'm here because I care about you."

There was a pause, a heavy silence hanging between the two of you. He was looking at you expectantly, a pleading look in his eyes.

"I'm not going to make you talk about it if you don't want to."

"Okay,"

"And I'm not going to bring it up again unless you do.”

"Okay."

"And, I'm not going to ask you for anything in return, maybe a little more conversation, a smile, maybe a laugh, but other than that..."

A smile slowly crept onto your face. He had the uncanny ability to make everyone else smile, regardless of their mood, and he was the only one who could do it. It’s not that his jokes were particularly funny because they weren't, but it was the way he said them.

He was an awkward, nervous mess most of the time, but when he was confident when he was in his element, there was no stopping him.

"You sure you want to waste all your energy on me, old man?"

His lips twitched at the nickname, his eyes brightening. "For you, doll? Anything."

And there it was. That goddamn smile that made your heart skip a beat and butterflies erupt in your stomach. He was just too sweet, and it was completely unfair.

"Come on," he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and tugging you close. "Let's get you something nice."

You smiled as you walked next to him. As much as you hated the motorcycle ride, it was nice to spend some time with Steve. He parked outside a Target, and the two of you walked in, immediately making your way to the women's section.

You took charge almost immediately, going to the racks and picking out different things. Steve followed behind you, carrying your armfuls of clothes as you added more. You went through rack after rack, throwing the things that caught your eye into his arms.

After about the tenth outfit, you turned around and saw him standing there, his arms filled with clothing and a smile on his face. You ignored it or tried to, as you turned back around and went to another rack.

When you finally finished, you had an armful of outfits, and Steve was practically weighed down. He didn't seem to mind, though, and you had the feeling that he had enjoyed his role as a pack mule. When the shopping was done, you ran to the bathrooms and changed into the outfit while Steve waited outside.

A pullover hoodie and a pair of jeans, the closest thing that Target had to leather. Not exactly what you wanted, but it would work. When you stepped out of the stall, you found Steve sitting in one of the chairs, flipping through a magazine. Such a 90-year-old, again.

He looked up when he heard the door open, his eyes sweeping over your form.

"Where to now? The ditch?"

Steve rolled his eyes, a smile spreading across his lips. "You’re an avid book reader, right? What's the biggest bookstore in the area?"

"Are we going to Barnes and Noble or something?"

"If that's what's closest."

You paused, watching his expression. There was no sign of teasing, no hint that this was a joke.

"…Really? Barnes and Noble?"

"Is that an issue?"

The disbelief must have been written on your face because Steve gave a loud laugh, throwing his head back.

"Oh, come on. I can be spontaneous!"

"Sure," you mumbled, trying not to show how happy his statement had made you. He remembered a stupid fact about you that you had told him months ago. And he had stored it, not forgotten it.

You felt like you were in the twilight zone, but you weren't complaining.

Steve bought the outfit and threw the tags away, and the two of you got back on the motorcycle. It was easier, this time, with the knowledge that he had cared enough to listen to your ramblings. Maybe he cared enough to calm it.

You had your face buried in his back, not out of fear this time, but out of comfort. You couldn’t see him smile as he sped up, but you could feel it.

At Barnes and Noble, he sat and watched as you wandered the store, a smile on his face. He didn’t say anything, didn't pressure you into talking, didn’t even try to join in; he just sat and listened as you read him the summaries of the books. You didn’t even mean to; it just kind of happened.

One moment, you were looking through the books; the next, you were reading the synopsis out loud to Steve. He didn’t say anything, didn't make any indication that he was listening, but you could tell by the way his head would turn towards you when you spoke. And once again, Steve was your personal pack mule, carrying the books that you were interested in.

By the end of the night, he had an armful of books, a satisfied smile on his face, and you were laughing. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed this much, the last time you had felt so happy.

When you got home, the sky was dark, and the moon was high. Steve followed you inside and set the books down on the coffee table. He had refused to let you carry them, insisting that they would get ruined in your hands. You didn't bother fighting him on it and allowed him to carry them.

"Do you want a drink or anything? Something to eat?" It was obvious you were slightly nervous now, but Steve didn’t seem the notice… or even care at this point.

"No, thank you. I should probably be getting back."

"Oh." You paused, not really wanting him to leave, but you couldn’t ask him to stay. You were friends, that was it, and nothing more. "Okay, yeah."

"Well," he started, his fingers flexing by his side. "I'll see you soon, then?"

"Yeah," you said, giving him a smile. "See you soon, Steve."

He looked like he was going to say something else before he gave you a soft smile and walked out.

Once he was gone, you shut the door and let out a sigh. Today was perfect, and you hated yourself for it. You hated yourself for enjoying yourself, hated that you were able to push away all thoughts of him. It was like the universe was taunting you, dangling the perfect guy in front of your face, and you couldn’t have him.

"Why him, huh?"

"I can still hear you." Steve's voice echoed through the house despite his absence in it, and you internally groaned as you got up to stare out the window. Damn, his super hearing.

You pulled the blinds aside and watched as Steve got on his bike, his helmet still in his hands.

"Steve."

He paused, turning his head towards the house. He couldn’t hear what you were saying now that he was by his bike, not with the closed windows, but he could see the silhouette of your body against the curtains. You lifted it up in an instant, an invitation.

"Steve.” You repeated, and this time he heard it. Loud and clear.

"Yeah?"

"Did you really mean it? That this wasn’t a pity date?"

Steve paused for a moment, his lips slightly parted. After a moment, he rested his helmet on the handlebars and made his way back to you. He stopped inches from you, slightly bending down through the window.

A smile and a simple glimpse at your lips was his only answer. He looked back in your eyes, his expression soft, waiting. He was leaving it up to you, not wanting to push, not wanting to scare. He wanted it, but he wasn’t going to force it.

It was all the incentive that you needed.

You reached through the window and grabbed his jacket, pulling him forward and crashing your lips together. It was desperate and slightly awkward since you were halfway through the window, but neither of you seemed to care.

Steve reached forward and grabbed the side of the window, pushing it open even further and lifting you through. You let out a surprised squeak, which quickly turned into a moan as he pressed you up against the house.

His lips were warm and softer than you expected. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

After a few moments, Steve pulled away, his forehead resting on yours and a smile on his face.

"Okay, this wasn't a pity date."

Steve let out a laugh, the breath puffing against your face.

"Good. Glad we established that."

"What was this, then? I've been told that Captain America wasn’t one to put out on the first date."

"Oh, yeah. Definitely not. I'm a gentleman."

"Then what's this, Steve? What was today?"

His arm tightened around you, and he pressed his lips against your forehead, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Like I said, I can be spontaneous."

"Spontaneous," you mumbled, letting out a laugh.

"And," he continued, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. "It seems good girls like a little bad every now and then. You especially, given your choice of dates."

"So, is that what this is? Captain America showing me a good time?"

"No. This is Steve Rogers showing his girl a good time."

"Your girl, huh?"

"Yeah," he murmured, his lips inches from yours. "My girl."

And when his lips met yours again, all you could think about was the leather jacket, the motorcycle, and the promise of more.

And a whole lot more bad.

[asolitaryrose3]

Are you jealous?

Melissa schemmenti x fem!reader

Summary: Reader is shy and feels like Melissa is too far out of their league, but with enough nagging from Ava, and the presence of Gary, they finally tell Melissa how they feel.

Warnings: fluff, minor angst, jealous reader, comfort, Gary (for the plot only), my failed attempt at humour, Ava and readers are besties, Most of this was wrote at 3am, first time posting my fics on here, I’m trying my best.

*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*

“I think you should tell her” Ava suggested, “why, so she can laugh in my face and ruin the perfectly good relationship we have? Yeah, No thanks.” You joked slumping further into your chair.

When you had joined Abbott you had instantly fell in love with the people there, janine, although she could sometimes be annoying at times, you know she means well by it all. Jacob was like a brother to you, he was nerdy and sometimes ruined a joke or two, but for the most part he was caring. Gregory took some time to open to you, but when he finally did, he was surprisingly funny and good to be around. Barbara was one of the kindest people you had met in your life, you saw how she mothers the younger teachers, Janine mostly, and it was sweet and admittedly wholesome to be around.

Melissa was at first cold and icy toward you, which you later learned that was normal for her, but eventually she warmed up to you. After some time she started to bring in cannolis from your favourite bakery, more recently though she started to even bring in home cooked lunches for you. She was sweet and you admired her, but eventually you realised after a while, that you had developed a crush on her. You knew she wouldn’t like you like that though, You were quiet and awkward, while she was strong and confident, not to mention gorgeous, and so you figured a woman like her, a woman who deserves the best, wouldn’t settle for a person like you. But that was fine, if friendship was all you could have, you were fine with that but, a date or two would be nice though.

Ava was your best friend at Abbott and the only person that knew about your little crush on the second grade teacher. When you first met Ava she thought you were like Jacob or janine, more on the awkward side, but when she ran into you one night clubbing, she found that you weren’t at all like you were at school.

That was why you were currently sat in Ava’s office sulking in the chair across from her desk. “But what if she feels the same though? I mean, your hot, so I don’t see why she wouldn’t” Ava said putting her feet onto her desk. “How could Melissa Schemmenti like me?” You questioned. “Oh come on? What are you gonna wait till someone else swipes her up? Girl c’mon live a little, you can’t avoid her forever” Ava asked, her face now serious. “Cause have you seen that vending machine guy? he’s been makin’ moves on your lady” she continued. “He has?” You turned to her with wide eyes, normally you would be in the break room at lunch but since your realisation you’ve been staying in your classroom as of late, not that you don’t want to be near Melissa, but you thought that if you distanced yourself, your feelings would eventually go away.

“But what if she doesn’t feel the same?” You questioned, concern filling your face. “But what if she does though?” Ava countered, The bell rang as she finished. Letting out a sigh you finally agreed with Ava, “alright, we’ll I’ve got to go get my kids from the gym” You pushed yourself up from your chair and walked out of your friends office.

*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*

The next period ran over quicker than you thought it would. You were dreading going to lunch. You knew Melissa would never like you and yet after talking to Ava you somehow gained this false hope that if you asked Melissa out before Gary did, then maybe, you had a chance.

Finally, after many minutes of persuasion you went into the break room, you only saw Barbara at first, but then you saw…him. You had forgot Gary stocked the vending machine today, you saw the questioning look sent your way from Barbara, you walked straight over to the counter and grabbed your cup out of the cupboard and started to make a coffee, as you waited for the drink to finish you began overthinking everything, you knew you should have never thought you had a chance, it was obvious that Gary liked Melissa and of course she would like him back, he was good looking and he was sweet and thoughtful. Barbara had said it herself a while back, even she saw that they would be perfect together, and how could Barbara Howard be wrong?

The beep of the machine in front of you rang through your ears as you broke out of your thoughts. Grabbing the cup you tried to get out of the room as fast as you could. Opening the door you almost bumped into someone, it was Melissa.

“hey hon, slow down, your gonna trip over someone-” The second grade teacher hushed, “hon, are you alright?” She continued. The care in her voice sent a pang of pain to your heart, you didn’t want to avoid her anymore, but you knew it was for the best. “Yeah Mel, I’m fine” you rushed past her, practically running to your classroom.

You slammed the door behind you and slumped down in your chair. You threw your head back and let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Not long after, you heard a knock on your door and you groaned at having to talk to someone when you were on the verge of tears.

“Go away Ava” you murmured, with your eyes closed. You heard the door open and you began to speak again “Ava I’m not in the mood-” when you opened your eyes you had realised your mistake. “Oh- Um, hey Mel, sorry I thought you were Ava coming to talk about one of the student’s dad or whatever” you half laughed trying to seem alright in front of the redhead. Mel perched herself on the side of your desk, crossing her arms. “care to tell me why you haven’t been coming to lunch?” She questioned with a raised brow. “I- I’m just catching up on marking”

You weren’t necessarily lying when you said that. Most off your time was actually spent grading papers, while the rest was spent either sleeping or wallowing in your own self pity. “For two weeks straight?” She frowned at your petty excuse. “Tell me what’s wrong Hon, please” she pleaded with you, but you couldn’t look at her, “why do you care, shouldn’t you be with Gary” the words left your tongue like venom, the very Mention of the man made your fist clench and your heart ache. “Why would I be with Gary?” She questioned, confused at the relevance he had in all of this. “I don’t know, maybe because you always are.” You mumbled, jealousy taking over your words. “Oh c’mon that’s not true and you know it” She reasoned. “Oh please, every time he’s here, you only talk to him.” You retorted.

Melissa grew silent after that, as she re shifted her focus to your face. You felt you face flush beat red under her unrelenting gaze. After a while, her furrowed brow raised as a smirk grew on her face. Melissa stood from her seated position on the side of your desk and sauntered her way toward you. As she stopped in front of you, she lent down and grabbed both of the arms on the chair. With her arms trapping you and her legs either sides of your now closed knees, you were practically unable to move.

“Are you jealous, hun?” She asked, the humour in her voice evident. “I-uh…No, why would I be?” You stuttered out, knowing you did not seem convincing at all, as you looked down and away from the woman. You felt one of her hands grasp your chin in her hand and forced you to look her in the eyes, “I want your eyes on me, sweetheart” she practically growled, “now, are you jealous of Gary?” She asked again, her voice significantly lower than before. You contemplated on lying to her again, but as you stared into her piecing eyes, you felt you brain go foggy from her close proximity.

“Well, I- uh…maybe, yes” you mumbled as you stared at her with an anxious look, “I- I like you Melissa, like really like you” Melissa’s eyes softened, as she smiled. “That’s good to know” she chuckled. Suddenly you felt Melissa’s lips meet yours, you froze at the sudden action but melted in to her soft touch shortly after. You whined as she pulled away with a smirk. “I like you too by the way” she laughed again at seeing the adoring look on your features. “Wait but I thought you liked Gary?” You questioned. “Oh please, sure he’s nice, but you? Your amazing hun, I’ve practically liked you ever since you got here” Melissa smiled sweetly at you. “I’ve like you since you got here too” you grinned back at her.

“I was thinking, how bout this weekend you could come over to mine and we can have dinner?” She asked, sounding very small as she spoke. You smiled at her hoping to comfort her, “I would love to Mel." She rose to a standing position, she kissed the top of your head as she did so. “I’ll see you later, hun” You watched as she left and you smiled to yourself at the feeling of lips that still lingered on both the top of your head and your own lips. You spun in your chair at the thought of dinner with Melissa.

Once you turned to the direction of the door, you saw Ava’s head appear from around the doorframe. As she walked in to the room you the look she was giving you, “tell me everything” she gasped with shared excitement.

[m4sonn]

⋆୨୧˚The Outsiders greaser Gang x Hyperfem!reader˚୨୧⋆

Thanks to my friend @peachyponyboyy and the anon who recommended this for this story!!

ponyboy:

> doesn’t mind that you’re feminine

> genuinely doesn’t care what you wear as long as you like him back and aren’t a shit person

> if you’re a boy he’s terrified that you’re gonna get jumped so he protects you with his life, it’s Oklahoma in the 60’s I don’t imagine they’re very accepting about two gay guys and a guy who wears skirts

> he hates the way makeup feels on his face but he’ll (begrudgingly) let you practice on him every once in a while after a bit of begging and whining

> would genuinely rather kill himself than wear anything feminine

> draws you a lot, if you sew/make your own clothes he makes you outfit designs he thinks would look good on you

> likes to help styling hair and encourages you to try new things (like dye and new cuts and styles etc)

> if you’re a guy he was probably scared to introduce you to his friends and brothers in fear of them judging him and you but they didn’t mind you

> calls you “baby” and “honey”

Sodapop:

> likes more feminine people

> likes helping you choose outfits

> if you ask him for help choosing a shade he’ll ask questions like what are you wearing, how are you doing your hair, what vibe are you going for etc to make sure he chooses the best choice

> helps style your hair for you

> jokes around and lets you do makeup on him and even tries on fem clothes with you sometimes at stores

> constant shower of compliments

> talks about you like he talks about sandy in the movie

> 100/10 waist hugger, hugs you from behind and rests his head on your shoulder or back of your head

> introduced you to his friends right when you two met but introduced you as a friend and then reintroduced you as his gf/bf later when you two started dating

> calls you “cutie”, “sweet boy/girl”, “sweet pea” or “baby boy/girl” (cringe I know)

Darry:

> doesn’t mind it

> type of guy to remind you to close your legs when you’re sitting down

> makes sure your skirt doesn’t ride up too much while out in public/tells you if you don’t notice

> hates the feeling of lip gloss but is willing to get some on his lips to kiss you

> kisses your hand a lot all gentleman like

> you were probably more scared than him to meet his gang and brothers (by more scared I mean that he was totally chill abt it), he just kind of brought you along one time just randomly to a group hang out and they were just chill abt it.

> calls you “sweetie”, “honeybun”, or “peaches” (I hc his favorite fruits as peaches)

Dally:

> usually dates fem people only so you’re right up his alley (sorry mascs, he’s only for the fems‼️‼️)

> mainly only dated girls

> likes to take you shopping with the little spare money he has

> likes to see you try on clothes cause it just makes you look so happy

> adamant that he’s straight (he’s not) and if he dates a guy he says that you’re “close enough” and that it isn’t gay. He doesn’t realize how much this hurts you and only realized how this made you feel after Johnny and pony pulled him off to the side to talk to him about it cause they realized how you always got quiet and awkward after he said that

> likes his partners a bit nerdy but still confident so if you’re a dude who’s confident enough to be feminine in public but is still a little shy and has those nerd glasses he’s ALL OVER YOU‼️‼️

> probably puts his hand on your thigh under your skirt while sitting next to you

> whenever you bend over he’ll slap your ass

> likes to take you out and show you off to his friends, right off the bat when you started dating he went to his friends to show off his new partner

> calls you “pretty boy/girl”, “doll”, or “doll face”

Johnny:

> loves you for who you are and not how you dress

> constantly telling you how cute your outfits are on you

> like pony if you’re a boy he’s terrified of you being jumped for being a feminine gay guy and protects you with his life, gives you a switchblade just in case, even if both of you know you’d never use it.

> waist grabber/hugger and no one can change my mind, when you’re wearing a tighter top that shows off your waist is when he does it most

> goes feral when you wear a shorter skirt

> I don’t imagine his mom to be a very feminine person other than meeting pony boy’s mom so you are like the only feminine person he’s really ever talked to so he knows nothing about how to help with outfits or makeup etc but tries his best to help with whatever

> was trying to grab a makeup pallets for you and he dropped it and broke it and cried while apologizing

> was pretty scared to introduce you to the gang (especially if ur a boy) but he told Dallas first and helped him introduce you to the gang after reassuring both of you they’d love you (they adored you and loved that Johnny finally found someone)

> calls you “sweetie”, “darling”, or “my beautiful amazing pretty amazing most perfectest bestest boy/girlfriend (yes he would call you this)”

Two-Bit:

> usually likes more fem lovers so he doesn’t mind you being fem

> If it’s modern day he yells gyatt at you and slaps your ass when you bend over ☹️☹️

> let’s you do his makeup and sometimes his sister joins in and you two either actually do his makeup or you just smear a bunch of products in his face

> his mom and sister LOVE YOU.

> when he brought you home his sister was all over you, enjoying having another feminine person in the house other than her mom cause two bit is “a nasty stinky and unhygienic boy” and she’s “glad to know that he finally has someone who might be able to get him to straighten up a bit and stop being so gross. And maybe you can even help that drinking problem of his.”

> you cackled after she said this but two bit didn’t take it as well and chased her around the house 💞💞

> he was so excited to introduce you to the gang, right when the two of you started dating he wanted to introduce you to them but he let you choose when, they loved you :3

> calls you “babe”, “baby”, “cutie”, and “sweet cheeks” (ur literally the Minnie to two bit’s Mickey)

Steve:

> doesn’t mind that you’re feminine

> he’s gay, only dates dudes, sorry girls 😋😋😋

> doesn’t know anything about fem clothes n stuff cause he grew up with only his dad but he tries his best :///

> When you guys go to watch bull fights or drag races he totally lets you sit on his lap, he could NOT care less if people are staring.

> likes to take you to drag races and even lets you be in the car with him when he’s in one

> likes to show you off, flexes how he managed to get such a pretty bf

> touchy asf

> was scared to introduce you to his dad but he did eventually, his dad was confused (“so that’s not a girl??”, “wait so what you’re tellin’ me is yur’ one of them queers??”) and physically could not bring himself to believe you were a boy because you’re so fem, but accepts you two

> he yaps to the gang abt you, like never shuts the fuck up and it annoys the hell out of them

> introduced you to them immediately

> calls you “darling”, “my love”, or “babe/baby”

[1moreff-creator]

With the release of a thrilling and VERY shocking Chapter 1 for Project: Eden's Garden, I'd like to resubmit my "What would make them laugh?" inquiry, but for the P:EG cast instead.

Yeah, I feel like we kinda need that one after everything that happened over there :'D. I've been wanting to write for this fangan anyways, so this is as good a place to start as any! Let's go!

Spoilers for Eden's Garden CH1

(Also, is the "shocking" description a pun on the murder method? Very funny if so xD)

Cassidy: We know she enjoys extremely horrible puns and referential humor, and the strength of her laughter correlates to how much the people around her either groan or enjoy the jokes alongside her.

Damon: He'd never admit it, but he enjoys silly jokes about niche topics he's researched for debates, provided he remembers enough about them. He particularly enjoys deadpan and sarcasm, and teasing other people.

Desmond: With how chill he is, he enjoys sweet and wholesome jokes the most. He can chuckle at anything if he's in a large enough group where everyone is comfortable, though.

Diana: She enjoys watching her friends engage in goofy antics and have silly discussions. Anything that makes them laugh, will make her smile, at least, and she'll usually laugh along too.

Eloise: Very odd and awkward sense of humor that not everyone gets. However, if someone matches her energy, she can very easily become a giggling mess. Very into inside jokes.

Eva: She'd rather not admit it, but really nerdy jokes and overly convoluted wordplay amuse her more than anything else. She also enjoys teasing the very few people she can call friends, and laughs when they get flustered.

Grace: Making fun of people and sexual innuendo are the easiest way to get her to laugh. She really enjoys slapstick and silly misfortunes, and flustering people like Wolfgang with her innuendo.

Ingrid: Laughs whenever she finds something cute, and generally, she finds other people's laughter cute. In other words, she laughs when others laugh, so she tries to make that happen.

Jean: Will readily and heartily laugh whenever he's having fun with friends, no matter what that fun looks like. Particularly enjoys anything that reminds him of the sea, like puns about the ocean and the like.

Jett: Similarly to Jean, if he likes the people he's around, a quick laugh will always precede all his sentences. Other than that, high intensity bits where there's one joke after another in quick succession are the best ways to hear his laughter.

Kai: Internet memes, "brainrot" humor, references to popular media... Just the most "chronically online" sense of humor you can possibly imagine. Also likes teasing people occasionally.

Mark: He's the hardest to get to laugh in the entire cast, but the best way to do it would be catching him off guard with a really ironic or unexpected joke. Self-deprecating and generally depressing humor go over particularly well.

Toshiko: She really likes weirding people out with her odd stories and grandiloquence, because it makes her feel smarter than them. But when she's not teasing others, she can also be seen giggling at absurdist jokes she's embarrassed to admit she likes (finds them childish).

Ulysses: He enjoys smart history references, so his sense of humor can certainly be described as "nerdy as hell." Very big fan of deadpan humor, too.

Wenona: Also a big fan of deadpan, she and Ulysses have fun together. She also likes making fun of people, and finds it particularly funny when they fight back on whatever point she makes.

Wolfgang: Likes playing along with other people's antics, like Grace's. In other words, he laughs when someone is being super silly around him and he can "yes and" his way into a funny bit.

Tozu: Human suffering and overly dramatic puns.

Mara: Clinically unable to laugh, or so she says. Secretly loves cute animal videos.

Cara: I guess it depends on what theories you believe about her. However, I don't know the full range of theories around her, so I'll leave it at that :p

Hope that was good enough! Thanks for the ask, it's always fun to think about this! :D

[lexithwrites]

some headcanons for the ladies of the fandom, and no this isn't gonna follow canon, they're all a little gay at the least, so cry about it x

dorlene,,my loves, i feel like they met at a gig honestly, marlene is very tomboy/grunge and loves going by herself to bars and pubs where some local band is playing and she's a bit awkward on her own but once she has a drink and sees a pretty girl she's a lot more chill and confident

then she meets dorcas and she's fucked, so so fucked

dorcas is my goth queen, long black dress, buckled harness across her chest, sharp black nails, dark makeup and so much jewellery and marlene cant stop staring at her

she didnt think she liked goth chicks that much but FUCK this woman is a goddess, and shes tall,,,marlene is a sucker for taller women

shes so nervous trying to chat her up because dorcas' voice is like velvet, its so soothing and melodic and marlene thinks she might orgasm just from talking to her, and dorcas TOUCHES when she talks to you she's touching her arm and running a hand down her back and telling marlene she looks hot and marlene is so red

but they do exchange numbers and talk for days before marlene finally has the guts to ask her out and dorcas takes her to this restaurant and honestly they spend the entire night together walking around and talking and they go to marlene's and do makeout but nothing further, dorcas is also my demi queen and marlene is probably shaking with nerves lmao

also i feel like when marlene introduces her to the group they're all starstruck by dorcas too, dorcas is like the hottest woman they've all seen and dont know how marlene's nerdy ass pulled her but are so proud and happy

plus dorcas is the sweetest most gentle woman, she's so caring and attentive and pays so much attention to what someones saying to her, she remembers everything

also her and lily? besties, they're both into the same shows and they're both book lovers and talk for ages about fanfiction hehe

speaking of, my girl lily, she's basically walked out of the 70's and i love her for it

all flares and tie dye shirts, long, bright red hair and crazy bright makeup, her favourite colour is yellow and she loves flowers and summer and UGH okay

she loves 70's rock too, i feel like she kinda hides it a little but her and sirius bond over it very quickly

her entire apartment is very boho and there's lots of incense and candles and yes, shes a stoner, shes cool

very bisexual but basically only wants to date women as her experience with men (past a fling with james when they were teenagers) has been bad so she goes on a lot of dates with women to try something new and they didnt really work out past a few dates but she's hopeful

then one night she's getting drunk and a lil high with mary and she realises how pretty mary is, how soft her skin is, how fluffy her hair looks and suddenly they're really close and woah her lips are so plump and taste like strawberry wtf

i feel like her and mary hooked up once and got so nervous that they ruined their friendship that they didnt talk for a week until remus begged them too because he hates his two closest friends not speaking

when they do talk mary tells lily that she's had the biggest crush on her for so long but she didnt know how to say anything because lily had dated other people in that time and lily just feels her heart sore because oh,,,oh

mary is the sweetest girl, okay, she's precious and honestly its because of trauma and just her resilience to it thats kept her so loving and sweet, she deserves a fiery girlfriend like lily

mary has a big family and i'll stand by that, she has like four brothers and three sisters and she's the third eldest so she's taken care of them a lot too

she loves taking lily to her families home and introducing them to her girlfriend and honestly? they adore lily

she's cool and feisty and funny and she clearly makes mary very happy, but her older sisters do have a protective talk with her but they love her, they know she wouldn't hurt her

i feel like mary is a theatre girl too, she loves acting and directing and learning about sound and costume design, she's defo in the universty theatre department and lily is always coming in with a coffee and some lunch incase she forgets to eat, plus it makes mary blush when lily comes in because everyone stares at her

also in the theatre department is none other than xenophilius, a shy, whimsy guy who is dating probably the scariest yet coolest woman ever, miss pandora rosier

her and her brother were always into acting growing up and loved being in plays together, so they're defo in the department too

i feel like pandora loves making costumes and does the makeup for shows she isn't in and evan is a big sound design guy, so they're always backstage together as well as onstage

pandora is whismy goth, her and dorcas bonded over that when they first met in freshers, and she always smells of flowers and cigarettes from her brother

she also wears the TALLEST shoes ever because she's short, i love short panda

and xeno is the tallest lankiest mother fucker okay he's like barty height and so skinny, and he has a shock of white hair and heterochromia eyes and fiddles with his fingers a lot and pandora thinks he's adorable

they talk about true crime together and she reads his palm a lot and he does her tarot reading and its a beautiful, soft, loving relationship

but i feel like they're also a lil freaky,,,maybe some knife play here and there who knows, pandora is a wild card

her and dorcas became friends with the other girls through marlene and after that they're all insperable

they go shopping, smoke weed, hang out in the rosier's pool during the summer, its great

and marlene is the only driver so she takes them to the beach and down to brighton for the weekend so they can go to the gay bars together, its just great

i love my ladies, i hope this meal was filling

[highonmarvel]

Restless Heart [1] | Tricks

♩Steve Kemp

You thought you were dark, and you are, but the charming surgeon you’re becoming addicted to is testing the extents of your morality.

content warning: this is a dark fic, and this series explores taboo topics such as abuse and assault, abduction, deteriorating mental health and mental illness, graphic depictions of gore. Think of a trigger warning: it applies to my work.

addition content warnings here!

“I just don’t eat animals.”

People are generally vegetarian for two main reasons: health or ethics. Steve is a doctor, and evidently in very good shape, so maybe it was to do with that, but you guessed it was probably some moral reasoning. You nearly make a comment, want to ask, “So you don’t eat men?” but you manage to bite that back as you swallow down some chicken.

You nod, and he seems to anticipate your apology as he quickly assures you he doesn’t mind you. You had tried to be vegetarian once, when you were younger and so much more golden, and sweet, and never wanting to hurt a fly, but you abandoned that in less than two weeks, and grew out of that sunshine view. You aren’t super edgy or the “fuck everything” type, no, you just understand that a person can not be good 100 percent of the time, and you have grown to accept that. You know you aren’t holy, and that’s freeing, in a sense, makes you feel safer exploring darker thoughts, only on your own, though. It’s amazing to be at terms with oneself, it’s the ultimate peace.

“Hey, so, I was thinking…” Steve starts, setting down his fork, “If you’re up for it, we should go on, like, a trip or something.”

How long had you known him? Long enough to not think twice about hopping in his car. Or maybe it hadn’t been that long and he’s just the most addictive drug in the world. Steve is heroin personified—not even, actually, it’s so much stronger than that; the desire to be as close to him as physically possible is so overwhelming you have no idea how by any miracle you have managed to stay seated across from him at the table.

“What did you have in mind?” you try as a casual question, maybe a little playful, but even you can tell it’s not convincing. You’re not necessarily shy, maybe a little awkward, but not cowering at the thought of social interactions, but with Steve, there’s just something. Fuck, his defined jawline, smart sense of humour (despite a little awkward charm—in fact, that nerdy attractiveness may benefit him), and his high-inducing touches. He melts down your stubborn persona to a blushing schoolgirl with just a half smile. He knows, he has to, but he’s never mocked you for it. Is that something you would be into?

“A surprise, if you’re up for it.”

You’re up for anything.

The next evening, you’re at his home; it’s huge and gorgeous. You remember wondering if he had a wife and kids when you first started seeing him, but now a little more so—why would he have such a big home just for himself?

“You really don’t have a wife?” you ask, peering down one of the long corridors.

He laughs from another room, and you follow the comforting sound over to a sunken living area. He gestures to your glass on the end table of the couch opposite of him. You settle down and lift the glass to him before bringing it to your lips.

“I don’t,” he insists with a smile, taking a sip of his drink.

You don’t even remember what you asked for, but you drink it anyway, because it’s from Steve. It’s a little tangy, but not too strong, lingers on your tongue and coats your throat.

You hear your name called in a familiar voice. You lift your suddenly incredibly heavy head to look up at Steve; he has his left arm draped over the back of the couch, and his right forearm laying on his thigh, holding the glass seated on his knee.

“Why’re you sitting so far away?”

What a good question. You stand, and even though you attempt to do so slowly, you still rise way to fast, and the fancy wooden floor sways underneath you as you grip your head to stop it from falling forward. You take a step, and you’re out.

♡

You stir to consciousness but keep your eyes shut, turning over and pulling a thin blanket over your shoulder. But something doesn’t feel right. The light shining on you is too warm a colour, the sheet over you is as crisp as a hospital blanket, and it feels like you’re laying on the floor.

Your eyes rip open and you try to sit up with shaking arms providing little support. The wall opposite you is painted with blue and purple and yellow as a beach sunset despite the air of despair about the room.

Your attention is drawn at the sound of ice clinking against glass, finding Steve taking a sip of a drink, seated in a chair by a door.

“Steve?” you ask, trying to stay as calm as possible, “What’s happening?”

He lets out a breath, and says, “I’m gonna tell you but you’re gonna freak out.”

He looks down at you with a glint that could be slight boredom or amusement, and you struggle to properly read the situation.

You look down to your right, where a thick leather bracelet covers your skin, connected to a chain of silver looped through a hook in the ground.

“Take this off, please,” you ask between uneven breaths.

“I can’t do that.”

“Take. It. Off.”

“I. Can’t. Do that.”

He sets his glass down and stands up, causing you to immediately retreat into the corner.

“Don’t!” you shriek, kicking the sheets towards him in your attempt to cower, “Don’t touch me!”

“I’m standing right here,” he responds, holding his hands like he’s unarmed.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” you begin hyperventilating, your body tensing and chest restricting as he crouches before you, “… Are you going to rape me?”

He tilts his head in disappointment and drops his voice, “Why would you ask me something so ugly?”

“Oh my God, oh my God…” you begin again, over and over like a prayer to heaven as he tries to speak to you.

“I like you, and I’m not going to rape you. Listen to me, very carefully,” he says, calm but authoritative, but you continue with your panicked three words over and over again before he yells your name.

“There she is,” he gives a tight-lipped half-smile, like he’s trying to be comforting but doesn’t have the patience for it, “I’m gonna sell your meat, and your hair, and get a lot of money for it. I’m not gonna kill you… right away… because the fresher the meat, the better. I’m not gonna kill you… unless you act up.”

His words are hardly registering in your mind as your eyes dart around the room, looking for any escape points.

“It’s great here, and I’ll cook for you! I’m a great cook,” he steps back and gestures around him, turning to look at the mural on the wall, giving you time to prepare to stand, “And by the way, look at the sunset—”

You yell as your charge towards him, clawing at him with your left hand and trying desperately (and in vain) to pull your right free. He easily steps back from your attack and you swipe at air, leaping further to try to get to him but being tugged back by your restraint.

He manoeuvres himself around you and sweeps you off your feet by gripping your waist, either ignoring your thrashing or used to this response, expertly managing to lay you down as if he’s done it many times before.

His breathing is slightly heavier when he steps over you and makes his way to the door, but you can’t tell if that’s because he’s angry or if your tantrum took him a little more effort (still barely anything, though).

“Behave.”

He leaves you with that. The cage-like wooden door slides shut and an electronic noise from a keypad let’s you know it’s locked.

♡

There are two other women in the basement, Penny, and someone else, resigned to their fate, and you fear you’ll soon become like her, giving up once you’ve had enough taken from you. You can’t have been in the basement for more than a few days, only managing to keep track of time by the three meals Steve delivers you a day. At first you tried to lunge at him, but he didn’t even drop the bowl of cereal he brought down, promising he’d make you a better breakfast the next morning because he had something to take care of; you soon found out that something was the nameless woman whose cell was furthest from you seeing as she was taken away screaming and never returned.

You refused to eat the next meal he delivered, and he encouraged you for a bit but didn’t press too hard before leaving. When dinner rolled around, your temper had been building all day but you had tried to bite your tongue out of fear; you had learnt Steve was a man of his word, and even if you believed he liked you, you just as well believed he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. Part of you was curious, however, as to how he had managed to keep this up for what you presumed to be years given his expertise without getting caught or even suspected, and the thought made you choke on a sob that you played off as a cough, remaining careful under his gaze. You had learnt Penny didn’t have many friends and family that she had become distant to, similar to yourself, and the thought of all the women who disappeared into thin air without so much as a news call made your stomach twist: you would be one of those women now.

When he set the tray down, you knocked the food aside and tried to scratch at his torso but his thick sweater kept you from it.

“You know,” he said as he sat crossed-legged on the floor only a little bit away from you after you had effectively tired yourself out with trying to get a single hit at him for what felt like an hour, “I knew you were batshit crazy pretty early on.” Your eyes snapped up to him as he casually admitted what you’d been trying so hard to hide for the few weeks you had been dating him. Admittedly, your erratic nature was something you’d eventually stopped trying to hide as you grew up finding the harder you tried, the more explosive you would become when the secret was inevitably revealed, but you really wanted to try keep some sanity about you, at least until you got to know him a little better and were secure in the knowledge it would be at least a little harder for him to leave you than it was in the early days.

“Like, bite-your-dick-off insane. It made me wonder how you’d react to this, if you’d be as violent as I see you are now, or maybe you’d see the appeal.”

“I’d mind it less if you were doing this to men, but you said you ‘don’t eat animals,’ so I guess that rules your kind out.”

He let out an amused exhale through his nose and bit his lip to keep himself from smiling too wide.

That had to have been a few days ago, though you can’t really be sure seeing as he had stopped bringing meals down for a bit after your tantrum, and you were left to scream out your frustrations on your own until you fell asleep. You didn’t hear him come down for Penny either and eventually the conversation between you two had fizzled out. You wanted to leave the mess to spite him but it started smelling rancid and you had to clean up the cell to stop yourself from vomiting even more than you already wanted to.

Finally, the basement door creaks open, and your heart starts beating fast, but you can’t tell if you’re excited to see him or dreading the reason he’s coming down. You’re prepared to swing at him again despite your many failed attempts, but you’re also so hungry you’re not willing to risk going without another meal.

“I need a shower,” you say the second he appears in the cell doorway.

“Hello to you too,” he responds dryly, but his demeanour is cooler than you want considering your emotions are running so high you feel you’ll die if you don’t lash out. Maybe it’s because you’ve missed a few doses of your medicine, but you swear you must have hallucinated his response as being positive when he leans down to unclasp your wrist and you flex your hand to get some feeling back into it.

You rise unsteadily to your feet, unsure if this is a dream or a test, but step out the cell when he motions you ahead of him. He closes the door and grips your bicep as he urges you forward, his hold not hard but firm enough to let you know he is still in control. You feel like a newborn deer and you walk down the corridor, seeing daylight for the first time and wobbly on your legs. Running is not an option, he’d catch you instantly and maybe kill you on the spot, but maybe you can distract him.

You turn suddenly and slash at his face with a roar, trying to claw his eye out. You manage to scratch his face and he’s startled enough to drop your arm in favour of cupping his injured cheek. Maybe the smarter thing to do would have been to run to the kitchen and grab a knife, snatch a lamp from the side table, a vase on the mantle, find a weapon of any kind, but in your fury you lunge at him, managing to jump onto his back and continue trying to rip his eyes out, screaming as your nails scrape against his forehead, but he catches your wrists to stop you. You wrap your legs around his waist repeatedly kicking your heel into his thigh as you try to land a kick at his crotch, but he suddenly falls backwards and you hit the ground with a cry as your back collides with the hard wooden floorboards. Pain shoots down your spine and you try to prop yourself up onto your forearms but are forced to fall backwards with a cry when what feels like white hot searing fire shoots across your nerves.

Steve stands with a foot on either side of your body, blocking the sunlight which you were just getting used to as he towers over you. Despite the few red marks across his face and a little blood running down some of them, he seems too calm for the situation, quickly able to regain a normal breathing pace after your attack. He leans down and grips your neck, pulling your face a little closer to his.

“Bad girl,” he whispers, the last thing you hear before your head is slammed into the floor and you blackout.

♡

Your limbs feel unnaturally heavy when you slowly stir to consciousness, struggling to open your eyes and feeling your lashes stick together every time you manage to part your lids just a little. The sound of ‘80’s pop music vaguely runs through your clouded mind, along with Steve’s humming. You recognise the song, Restless Heart, that you and Steve had danced to, and now he played the same special moment while you were… on his operating table? You groan as you finally manage to pry your eyes open, almost blinded by the bright white lights shining down on you.

“Steve…” you mumble, trying to shift a little from laying on your belly. You register a thin blanket covering only the upper half of your body and somehow manage to feel self conscious despite the horrifying implication of what he’s doing to you.

“What…” you want to ask ‘What are you doing?’ but you’re unable to get your tongue to move as it sticks to the roof of your dry mouth.

Steve seems to understand when he comes into your sightline and answers, “I’m taking your ass.”

It takes a moment for you to comprehend his words before you hear soft metal clattering, undoubtedly the sound of surgical tools as he moves around the room behind you, singing along with Peter Cetera to the song that was once a reminder of the happiest you’ve ever been, and now a macabre ballad to the worst moment of your life—at least thus far.

“No… no…” you mumble as your eyes well with tears.

“You broke my trust, honey. There’s got to be consequences. I wouldn’t quite say you did a number on me, but you certainly could have, and I can’t have that happening again, now, can I?”

“Steve, stop,” you manage to mutter, your throat dry.

“You see, I don’t mind you, I nearly admire the fight you put up when I come visit you, but it’s not so fun when you try to trick me when I’m doing something nice for you.”

Does he really think letting his captive have a shower is something nice?

“I’m not taking much,” he continues, and if you could think straight you would hate that this more talkative side of him comes out when he’s at his most evil. “You’ll be fine, and you’ll be lucky. And I’m a doctor, remember? But listen,” he sets his tools down and walks over to you, blocking the light as he lowers his voice, “If you ever try something like this again, you’ll lose a limb.”

You sobs slowly die out as you feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness again, the last words you hear being Steve yelling in time with the music, “Don’t leave me here with my restless heart!”

♡

When you wake up on the thin mattress back in hell, you sigh deeply as you consider how to even handle yourself. Now that the shock and anaesthesia has worn off, your back hurts more than ever, and not knowing the condition your ass is in, you wonder if you could use the toilet, even if you managed to pull yourself up. You feel frustrated and defeated, now knowing that when Steve comes around, you won’t even be able to try to assault him, futile as your attempt may be. Though you know your hotheaded decisions are more than unlikely to ever be successful, trying at least gave you some sort of power, or at least the illusion of it.

As you lay on your stomach, feeling your heartbeat through your ribs and against the floor, you can’t help but feel like you’ve a restless heart of your own. You want to kill Steve, you genuinely want to murder him, and painfully at that, you even want to torture him; you want to take one of his butcher knives and slash his dick off, shove it into his mouth and hack at his throat over and over again until his head lolls down the stairs. Or maybe you should repeatedly stab him, make sure he feels every tear until you land a dagger in his restless heart.

And… you almost like it. You almost like being able to get years of anger out and having a valid excuse as to why, you like the idea of being able to murder someone and it being justified. If you can survive this, you’ll have the chance to play out all your sick fantasies with the cover of self defence, you can finally unleash your darkest desires, on someone who deserves it.

♩

} next chapter: Painkiller

my beloved taglist: @cowboysnbugs, @buckys-wintersoldier, @cjand10

[cyborgfranky]

Sleep On My Heart - Chapter 2

chapter one

“I hate this.” You huff, spread out on the floor like a starfish after a long day of training, muscles screaming in agony.

Penguin isn’t much better, actually worse if you really thought about it. He was a much better fighter, but he was also lazy and hardly had any endurance.

Bepo would come in to help out with training (like an angel), but then Law would catch him and scold him for leaving the navigation room unattended.

Shachi also stopped by occasionally, but Penguin usually kicked him out since he was being a huge nuisance.

He groans and flips over onto his back, “Me too.” Penguin sits up with a wide smile, “But~ I think you could beat me soon…!”

You furrow your brows at him, “If by soon you mean another agonizing month, then yeah, I agree.”

“Hey, are you okay?”

“I don’t like losing.” You huff, crossing your arms with a pout.

Penguin hums in reply, seemingly pondering something before standing up and offering you a hand. “Let’s go have lunch.” He smiles widely, and you have a feeling he’s up to something when his grin stays the entire (short) walk to the dining room.

The quiet buzz of the Polar Tang always brought you comfort, especially when it filled the awkward silence that came with your captain. He nodded at you and Penguin in greeting, reading a newspaper while sipping coffee. He clearly had just woken up, evident from the fresh dark circles under his eyes and his dry, cracked lips pressing insistently against his mug. He shifted in his seat, like he wanted to leave, but was too stiff about himself to just get up and go.

He was funny that way, sometimes it felt like distaste for the people he was around, but the next moment it would become clear he was just incredibly socially awkward. Although you had only seen that happen, it only felt like he was burning with annoyance at your presence everytime you were around, never granting the sweet relief of him just being introverted.

Penguin hands me a rice ball, which I accept gratefully despite wishing it was a sandwich. You had found out the hard way how much Law hates bread when you made him a sandwich a few weeks back, only to be met with the most dramatic reaction a man could have to bread. Penguin and Shachi watched and laughed at you for an hour after that, and you grimaced at the memory, remembering how Law’s hatred for you had seemingly deepened since then.

Penguin chats excitedly with you, lately he’d made it his mission to find out everything there is to know about you. He’d asked any questions that came to mind from ‘ what’s your favorite color?’ to ‘ so… tell me what it was like growing up with an absent father’. Penguin had not nearly enough room to joke about absent parents, by the way.

He taps his chin for a moment, then lights up, “What’s your favorite weather?”

You huff in amusement, “Cloudy, I guess.”

“Oh good!” He gushes, “Once we surface the weather will be perfect!”

You perk up at that, “Oh? We’re surfacing soon?” You ask through a mouthful of rice.

Law sends you a sharp glare, looking up from the paper he was so focused on a moment ago, “Don't talk with food in your mouth.”

Penguin rolls his eyes, “Give em’ a break, we’ve been training so hard, Captain~”

Law sighs and folds his paper, placing it under his coffee. “Have you defeated him yet?”

You snort, wanting to make a smart comment about his nerdy vocabulary, but ultimately deciding against it. “Almost!” You send a fake punch at Penguin, knocking his head back and giggling softly at his stupid face.

“Good. If you can do it before we surface, I’ll allow the crew to go out drinking, my treat.” He quickly looks toward Penguin, “And no, that does not mean go easy. I’ll observe for the next few hours until we dock.”

A spark of determination erupts in your stomach and you scarf down the remains of your onigiri and chug the glass of water Penguin had provided. Law quirks a brow at you and you catch a glimpse of a smile before it disappears, like it was never there. I stand up and begin to pull at Penguin’s sweatsuit, “C’mon, hurry up!”

“I forgot how much of an alcoholic you are!” He laughs, fixing his hat as he stands up.

“Am not!”

“Didn’t Shachi catch you drinking the rubbing alcohol–”

“Let’s go!” You nervously laugh, afraid of what Law might do if he found out you were drinking patient resources.

Law steps into the room after the two of you, he glances around the room for a moment before simply sitting in the corner, opening a notebook and presumably writing notes on the news. Nerd .

It’s awkward at first, being around your captain is always nerve wracking and Penguin isn't helping by being thrice as comfortable with it than you are. Trafalgar keeps sending disapproving looks your way, and that throws you off even more.

“Stop.” He says, sighing and standing up from his spot. “Sit down, Penguin.” The jumpsuit-clad man rushes to his spot like a dog with his tail between his legs, and his fear only adds to the quake in your knees as your captain takes his place.

Law raises his chin at you, hands on his hips. “You know the human body, correct?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Focus on my weak spots; my neck, ears, knees, anything you can think of. Play dirty, we’re pirates.” It’s a lot easier to face him head on, you realize as the adrenaline rushes through your veins. He won't use his devil fruit , you decide, not on such a trivial thing .

This knowledge fills you with confidence, he might even go easy on you!